Maybe we just took the Firebaughs too much for granted here in Oklahoma. They have been here so long that we thought of them as a part of us. Of course they are but they are much more than that--they were and still are missionaries among the Indians.

It took another missionary, Ann Farr Pipkin, to recognize that some word should be written down concerning the Firebaughs and their work among us. Now all of us are indebted to Miss Pipkin for the contents of this small booklet on the Firebaughs among the Choctaws and the Chickasaws.

Ann Farr is a dedicated person to the work of Christ and His Church. Her present work in Brazil is one evidence of her devotion. Like the Firebaughs she has been in the church all her life. With John Livingston, she could well say that she does not remember the day nor the hour when she did not love Jesus Christ.

With her zeal and keen intellect, we know that for one, Miss Pipkin will all through her life be answering her own question which is the last sentence in this booklet: "Who will follow the trails they have blazed, for the nurture of God's people in small rural communities?" Certainly her heart will be made glad, if this booklet will inspire us to be more like the Firebaughs.

H. Grady James

Robert and Henryetta Firebaugh, both almost 85 years old, sat in the living room of their home at 701 East Duke Street, Hugo, Oklahoma, one day in June, 1965 and looked back over their lives. It had been 53 years since they had come as bride and groom, to take up their work among the Indians of Southeast Oklahoma.

Here and there about the room were touches which reflected their interest in the Indians --swastikas embroidered in green on tan drapes, a pillow embroidered with a red thunderbird, a handmade wastebasket of natural straw with an Indian design in brown and black, and a switch-cane basket for magazines.

Their brown eyes sparkled as they rocked and recalled their childhood and youth in the state of Virginia, and their life together in Oklahoma. There were quiet moments as they thought of touching incidents and then chuckles over humorous happenings.

"The half can never be told" of their love for the Indians, their appreciation of them, and their Christian nurture of them for over fifty years.

Because their lives glorify God and inspire their fellow men to greater Christian devotion and service, some of their experiences are recorded here.

With grateful acknowledgment to Rev. H. Grady James, without whose help this booklet could not have been published. He added much information, helped to compile the material, collected and organized the pictures and supervised the printing.

Ann Farr Pipkin

The Firebaughs Among the Choctaws and Chickasaws

For several days John Henry Mohler, his wife and six children had been riding the train. It was an April day of 1884. They had left their farm in Rockbridge Baths, Virginia and were bound for Kansas to establish a new home on a farm there.

At Belleville,Illinois, just east of St. Louis, there was a sudden crash. The train in which the Mohlers were riding was derailed. Mr. Mohler was killed. Mrs. Mohler, expecting her seventh child, was badly bruised and cut, as well as the children.

Sadly the mother and children traveled back to Rockbridge Baths. The town, twenty miles from the famous Natural Bridge, was named for its healing springs. Fortunately, the Mohler home had not been sold and the family moved back in.

On September 15, Elizabeth Snyder Mohler gave birth to a daughter and named her Henryetta, for the deceased father. December 2, on a neighboring farm, a baby boy was born to Robert Dunlap and Sarah Clower Firebaugh and was named Robert McElwee. His middle name was for the pastor of the Presbyterian Church, William Meek McElwee. God had a wonderful plan for the life of these two babies born six weeks apart in this Farming community of Virginia.

An old saying is that a person who has never seen his father can breathe into the mouth of a child with sore mouth and that child will be healed. Since Henryetta had not seen her father, mothers would bring their sick babies and ask her to breathe in their mouths. Henryetta was not enthusiastic about this but would oblige the mothers.

This old practice was powerless to heal, but because Henryetta learned to know her Heavenly Father, she was to be used mightily by Him in helping a people far away to have the abundant life.

To make a living for the seven fatherless children, Mrs. Mohler made men's clothing, cut men's hair and boarded school teachers. She was of Scotch-Irish descent, a woman of unusual Christian fortitude. "She brought all of us up in the Church and Sunday school. She checked on all seven of the children each Saturday afternoon to see that they had memorized their Scripture verses and the catechism. If they had not, there was no visiting with neighbors children or going to the store."

Each youngster had only one pair of shoes, and every Saturday night he cleaned, polished and shined his shoes with stove black and a bit of Jersey cream. Then the seven pairs were lined up by the fireplace ready for Sunday.

Sunday dinner was prepared on Saturday. The chicken was dressed, pies and cakes were made and loaves of bread were baked.

The Mohler seven never thought that Sunday was a drab, long day. The dinner was special and after dinner we all gathered in the sitting room to hear their mother read Bible stories, Pilgrim Progress and the Christian Observer. Then they went to the basement to pop corn, crack nuts or make taffy candy.

The family sometimes had company for week-ends, but the company always went to Church and Sunday school with them whether they were Catholic, Jew or of no religion. No excuse was ever offered for staying at home on the Sabbath.

When Henryetta was seven years old her mother married Charles M. Schewey, a bachelor neighbor. He was a prosperous farmer and a strong Christian. No seven youngsters ever had a greater stepfather. He was a father in every sense of the word. Little red-headed, freckled-faced Henryetta and the others loved and respected him.

Two children were born to the Scheweys, Mabel and Edward, and Henryetta enjoyed being big sister to them.

Mr. Schewey kept a governess for the children. Two, especially, were outstanding teachers both by precept and example. Later a private school was opened in the community and all went to it. There they were taught Bible every day by a splendid Presbyterian teacher.

Robert Firebaugh was in the same class with Henryetta and there a romance budded. Later they attended Miss Bess Morrison's private school together.

They also attended the same church, the Bethesda Presbyterian. Each Sunday they sat with their families in their pews. Mr. McElwee's sermons always were "missionary in the broadest sense" they remembered.

Mrs. McElwee was confined to her bed for several years before her death, but on Saturday afternoons she would urge the children to come to her room to her bedside. There she told stories of missionary heroes and helped the pupils learn the Scripture verses. Henryetta memorized all of Paul's prayers. Always after that when a minister would use one in the benediction she would silently say it with him.

The next pastor and his wife, Rev. and Mrs. Henry Miller, also encouraged their interest in missions. Mrs. Miller organized the children into a band and they named it for a missionary who had been a classmate of hers at Mary Baldwin College, Miss Charlotte Kemper, who served in Brazil. The children looked forward to seeing Miss Kemper each furlough. They thought she was so cute with her bonnet tied under her chin.

Mrs. Miller gave each member of the Kemper Band a dime to use in some way to make money for foreign missions. Henryetta, or "Hennie" as she was called, appropriately invested hers in a setting of eggs and her mother supplied the "missionary hen." Robert or "Bob," being a farmer's son, invested his dime in Potato seedlings. The hard work of the children resulted in $ 100., which was given to help buy the Samuel Lapsley ship for the use of missionaries in the Congo.

The thrill of helping to launch a ship in the Congo gave Hennie, Bob and the other children an enthusiasm for missions which became a part of their lives. One member of the band, the pastor's son, William McElwee Miller, later went as a missionary to Iran.

At school Bob was noted for his mischief. When he took one of his report cards home, he had high grades in reading, writing, arithmetic, spelling and geography, but there was a smudge where the conduct grade should have been.

"Explain this smudge" his father had demanded upon seeing the report card. "oh, er, I was carrying a girl's books and dropped my report card in the snow," stammered Bob. "The snow blurred out that number."

Then there was the trick he played on his brother. He set a dead rabbit up in the field. When he and his brother were taking the cows to graze there, he pointed to the rabbit and cried, "Shoot that rabbit." His brother took aim and fired, only to find out, to his disgust, that the rabbit had already been dead.

Henryetta's first sweetheart was Bob. They began going together when they were about 16 and were engaged when they were eighteen. On a date Bob sometimes used a two-horse surrey. He named one "Closer" and the other "Closer Yet." "Get up Closer, get up Closer Yet" he would call to them, hoping Henryetta would get the double meaning.

When he was 17, Bob felt that, since his father was getting old, he should quit school and take over the work on the farm. But he was beginning to feel called to the ministry. The summer he was 18, the call came "more completely and stronger than ever." He decided to talk with his pastor, Rev. Henry Miller, about it. Mr. Miller discouraged him all he could, pointing out all the hardships of a pastor's life. But Bob became surer than ever that God wanted him to be a minister.

In the fall of 1904 Robert entered Washington and Lee University at Lexington, Virginia. Two years later Henryetta enrolled at Mary Baldwin College, Staunton, Virginia. There she joined the Student Volunteer Band. "When I was 17 years old," she recalls, "I began teaching in the mountains of Virginia, I taught a one-room school, had sixty children enrolled and got $35 per month. Wasn't that something? Probably more than I was worth! After teaching a few years I entered Mary Baldwin. I went only two years and began teaching again. I taught three more years in Goshen, Va., waiting for Robert to get out of the Seminary." After graduating from Washington and Lee, Robert went on to Union Theological Seminary, Richmond, Virginia. After that, he never doubted his call to be a minister.

Dr. S. L. Morris, the General Assembly's Secretary of Home Missions visited the Seminary in February, 1912 and made an impassioned appeal for a volunteer to work among the Indian. Firebaugh responded to the call.

Beginning Work in Oklahoma

After graduation from the Seminary in May, 1912 he and Henryetta were married on June 11. They had been engaged ten years. The trip to their work in Oklahoma was their honeymoon trip. "You will be scalped," their friends had gloomily predicted. But the 6 ft. 1 in. preacher and his 5 ft.. 1 in. auburn-haired bride, who weighed only 100 lbs., were unafraid. They knew it was God's will for them to go and they would go in His strength.

After three days on the train, they arrived in Durant, Oklahoma, where they spent the night at Oklahoma Presbyterian College as guests of Dr. and Mrs. W. B. Morrison. Dr. Morrison was president of the college and had known the Firebaughs in Virginia.

The next day, Friday, the Firebaughs proceeded to Bennington, where they were to live. Dr. Morris had written that an Indian would meet them at the train. He did. He was Ross Frazier, a full-blood Choctaw. Indian-like he hardly said a word as he took them to his home. People on the streets stared at Mr. Firebaugh's stiff black felt derby hat. When Mr. Frazier introduced his wife, the Firebaughs nearly fell over. She was a tall, attractive white woman from South Carolina and very friendly.

Quite a few people came in to greet the new minister and his bride. The newcomers were surprised, though, that nearly all were white people. They thought they had come to work among the Indians.

On Saturday some of the Gardners from Old Bennington, three miles away invited the young minister to preach in their church. He gladly agreed. On Sunday morning, he got up, milked the Frazier's cow and fed the chickens (Fraziers had been called to Paris by illness of Miss Mattie). After breakfast, as there was no transportation, he walked the three miles to church. When he entered the church, he spoke to the Indian and white people, but no one introduced him.

After Sunday school, William Gardner motioned for the minister to take over. The Virginian went to the pulpit. Still no introductions. The young man, who had come from so far away, thought this strange, but went ahead with the service. Thus he quickly learned that the Indians were not given to ceremony or flowery speech. Everyone present had already heard the new preacher's name and knew where he was from, so why tell them again, they reasoned.

Since her husband was preaching at Old Church, Mrs. Firebaugh spent her first Sunday in the town church. During Sunday school, she was given two little girls to teach. She recalls, "I wondered what I could do with two pupils. God spoke to me through these words, 'Henryetta, despise not the day of small things.' I determined from that day

I'd build the class up. I taught those two little girls for seven years as the class grew in number to twenty or more. I really think that class is the best piece of work I've ever done. I saw all of them accept Christ, and today they are all Christian men and women serving in other churches and communities.

"All that first Sunday afternoon I heard a binder running in the field. This shocked me. I had been reared on a farm, but had never known anybody to go to the field on the Sabbath day. I was more shocked on Monday, when someone told me that was a Presbyterian elder cutting his oats. I knew then that Oklahoma needed our ministry. The day was long and I was somewhat like Lot's wife. I longed for the dear ones I had left in Virginia."

The second Sunday "dear old saintly Brother Lloyd," (William J. B.), the superintendent of Indian Presbytery, lent the Firebaughs his team and carriage to take them through the woods to the little church at Chishoktak. Chishoktak is a Choctaw word meaning "post-oak prairie." There the Firebaughs saw plenty of Indians. The church was packed with them. The women, in their ankle-length dark skirts, and purple and red blouses, sat on one side and the men on the other.

The tall young minister, with a dignified manner and a Virginia accent, stood up and preached. The Choctaw designated to interpret for him, Sam Dyer, listened to the whole sermon and then translated it. Dr. Morris and others had counselled Firebaugh that it would not be necessary for him to learn the Choctaw or Chickasaw language, as the Indians would be benefited more if encouraged to use English.

So Dyer continued as Mr. Firebaugh's interpreter, always using this same method -- listening to all the sermon, then translating. The Choctaw singing stirred the young couple from Virginia, for the Indians poured out their souls in song. In slow, rich plaintive harmony, they sang with all the energy of their mind and voice.

Following the sermon at Chishoktak, the Indians had a dinner of banaha, pashofa, and pork, among other things. When the Firebaughs sat down with them and ate their food, they immediately won the friendship of the Indians.

Two Sundays a month Mr. Firebaugh preached at Bennington. On the other Sundays he visited the Choctaw and Chickasaw churches -- Chishoktak, Good Spring, Shady Grove School and Jackson School House. About 22 churches in Indian Presbytery were organized then.

The New Manse

It was more than a year before plans were made for the building of a manse for the Firebaughs to live in. Mrs. Firebaugh relates some of the details. "The men of Bennington contributed about $2,000 to build us a home. Mr. Morris Smith gave the lots. Robert Jr. was born in a little four roomed house, April 28, 1913. Charles was born in the manse, November 27, 1916. The people of Bennington were all so good to us and to our little boys. No small town or country church could have been better or done more for us during those lean years. Every year they gave us good poundings and filled our pantry with all kinds of good things. This is when I began to feel that God had cast our lines in pleasant places, and that we really belonged to Oklahoma."

Guests for Sunday School Convention

The Indians were so reserved around white people that they wouldn't go to white churches at first. (There has always been integration of the Indians with the white people -- some white people in the predominantly Indian churches and Indians where the whites predominate.) Mr. Firebaugh invited the Indians at Good Springs church to a Sunday School Convention at Bennington. These conventions were very popular in those days. The Bennington church members, nearly all white people didn't believe the Indians would come. "Well, they said they were coming," said Mr. Firebaugh, "and I took them at their word."

Sure enough, at sundown a wagon load, 17 in all, arrived at the Firebaugh home just at supper time on the night of the convention. One delegate was a grandmother with her baby grandson, Simon Belvin, in her arms. (Simon was later to become a minister.) Mrs. Firebaugh rushed to the grocery store and Mr. Morris Smith, father of Gunner Smith, gave her enough pork chops to cook for the guests.

After church the Bennington members graciously took the Indian guests to their homes.

Sunday Mishap

As they traveled country roads and forded streams to guide their people in the Christian way, the Firebaughs had many adventures.

One Sunday they went to the Pine Springs Presbyterian church near Farris, where there was a large Choctaw community. They went in their covered wagon. Mrs. Firebaugh rode on the spring seat carrying their baby, Robert, in her arms. As they crossed Boggy River then Muddy Boggy and the bottom, it seemed they would never get through the mud.

When they finally reached surer ground, Mrs. Firebaugh, to her great dismay, discovered she had lost her Sunday hat back in the mud. Because it was early spring and hot, she had pinned her hat to the inside of the wagon cover. It was a black sailor with violets, a very stylish hat made by Miss Rosamond Russell, a hat trimmer from St. Louis and a sister of Mrs. Ross Frazier. When they reached Farris, she bought a new hat in the store there. She wouldn't think of going to church without a hat!

Four Years in Missouri

In 1919 after seven years in Oklahoma, Mr. Firebaugh had malaria so bad that the doctor urged him to move to a more healthful climate. When a call came from the Presbyterian Church of LaBelle, Missouri, a small town this side of Quincy, Illinois, he accepted. He hadn't been there two weeks however, until Dr. Morris began to write, begging him to go back to work in Oklahoma.

Not only did Dr. Morris keep writing for the Firebaughs to come back to Oklahoma, but two men in Oklahoma joined in with appealing letters for their return. The Rev. Silas L. Bacon, Superintendent of the Goodland Orphanage, wrote a pathetic letter once a year, and Judge Murphy, a personal friend, wrote. Concerning the decision her husband finally made about returning is given in these words of Mrs. Firebaugh: "The zeal and consecration of Dr. S. L. Morris, the pathos of Mr. Bacon and the eloquence of Judge Murphy all combined to pull him back here."

Life at Goodland

In 1923 Mr. Firebaugh accepted the call as Superintendent of Indian Presbytery of Oklahoma, and he with his family moved to a home on the campus of the Goodland Indian Orphanage, three miles from Hugo. Mr. Firebaugh continued to serve as superintendent until 1957, when Durant Presbytery united with Indian Presbytery. From 1933 to 1940 he was also sharing in the Presbyterian, USA, work for the Indian churches of Choctaw Presbytery.

Mr. Firebaugh was pastor of the white frame church on the campus, built by the first missionaries, the Oliver P. Starks, in 1852.

Mrs. Firebaugh taught the sixth, seventh and eighth grades at the Goodland school for thirteen years. This was a public school located on the Goodland campus. "The classes were big and the lack of discipline nearly drove me mad," said Mrs. Firebaugh. Some of the students were good and outstanding in their achievements, however. Among them was Grady James, "who was an angel" and later became a Presbyterian minister. Seven others became teachers and among them were Cora Lena Farr (Mrs. Claud McCain), Anna Mae Frazier (Mrs. Bert Cox), Francile Perry (Mrs. Kelly Spring) and Lueda Labor (Mrs. Harold Roberson) . In those days Choctaw Presbyterian families sent their children to the Goodland High School to get the advantage of Christian training.

About this time a full - blood Choctaw, Solomon Belvin, brought his little girl, Lily, and asked the Firebaughs to take her into their home to learn English and to attend school regularly. Each fall Mr. Belvin would take about forty bushels of corn for Mr. Firebaugh's horse. In this way he helped pay for his daughter's board. Lily remained with the Firebaughs until she finished high school .

Mr. Firebaugh always had an assortment of tricky trinkets about the house -- to be used on any age group. Many of them were home-made. For instance one of the latest is a little wooden box. When one opens the lid of the box, a snake leaps out to make his strike with his pin-made fangs.

The Firebaughs enjoyed the fellowship with the young people. "When they would get into trouble, they would come to us; or when they wanted to have a little gathering of the young people, they'd come and we would provide refreshments," said Mrs. Firebaugh. "I think the most interesting and beneficial work we did at Goodland was in our personal association with the children, and I think that is what they remember more than our preaching and teaching." Juanita O'Bannon, later wife of Rev. Raymond Spivey, said her happiest memories of her childhood at Goodland were the times she would go over to the Firebaughs and eat bread, butter and jam.

Five of the 0'Bannon children were at the Goodland Home. When the mother died, the father felt helpless. He decided to send the children to Goodland. The mother was full-blood Choctaw and the father full-blood Irish. "They were all bright, attractive children,"Mrs. Firebaugh noted.

Mrs. Firebaugh recalled another outstanding family at Goodland -- the LaCroixs. "I never shall forget," she said, "one Sunday looking out the window and seeing Dr. Erskine Brantley of Antlers drive up in his little old Ford coupe. Children upon children (five in all) were packed into the car and he unloaded them at the door."

Dr. Brantly had been to see Mr. Bailey Spring, Superintendent of the Orphanage on Friday to make arrangements for placing the LaCroix children in the Home. Their mother had died and the father couldn't work and care for them, too. Mr. Spring had said, "No, we cannot take them. We already have about 200 children. That is as many as I can possibly take." The home was having a hard time financially and it was hard to get enough food.

Disappointed, Dr. Brantly returned to Antlers. On Sunday, when he learned that the father, Julius LaCroix, would have to put his four sons and daughter in the Catholic convent, he piled the children into the car and took them to Goodland. "Now these are our children," he told Mr. Spring. "Make room for them some way. They are not going to a Catholic school." And they did make room for them. Mrs. Spring put the youngest, Eugene, in her room and cared for him as if he were her own child. One of the LaCroix children, Christine, later became a teacher in the Goodland school and has taught there with her husband, Harry Crews, for 21 many years. Another, Julius Jr., is a medical doctor in Hugo, Oklahoma. The other three ---Tom, Jack and Eugene are also doing well in their jobs.

Adventures by Car

When the Firebaughs returned to Oklahoma in 1923, they purchased their first car, a Ford, for $300. Traveling was easier in most ways, but it was harder to cross swollen streams.

One winter when Mr. Firebaugh was to preach at the Beachtree church at the Beachton, 30 miles up the mountains north of Broken Bow, a hard rain came and he knew mountain Fork river would be too high to ford at the regular crossing. He went around by Arkansas hoping to cross it at a narrower place. At Hatfield, Arkansas, he inquired at the lumber office if their employee, who went 13 miles to Beachton every day to their camp there, had been able to cross Mountain Fork that day. "He must have succeeded, because he hasn't returned," he was informed.

The river was roaring as Mr. Firebaugh approached. But since the lumber man had crossed, he would attempt it, too. He drove in and the water poured into the car up to the seat. The engine choked to a stop.

A man came riding across the river on horseback. "Is there anyone around here who can pull me out?" asked the preacher. "Yes," he said, 'There's a man on the hill who can pull you out, but you'll have to hook the chain. He has a cold and won't get out in the cold water." When the man came, Mr. Firebaugh stripped off his clothes and went under the water to hook the chain on his car. The rescuer pulled him out to the other side. Mr. Firebaugh left his car and walked the remaining two miles to Beachton. There he learned that the lumberman had been able to cross the river with no trouble at all -- because he had used a boat.

After the Firebaugh's two sons, Robert and Charles, were old enough to stay alone, Mrs. Firebaugh nearly always went with her husband for visitation and church services.

One evening as they were going to a church service at the schoolhouse at Nashoba, they came to the headwaters of Little River, which was on the rise. "I don't believe we can make it this time," sighed Mr. Firebaugh. "Oh, I believe we can," Mrs. Firebaugh observed cheerfully. So they drove on in. Before they got to the middle of the river, water was running all through the car. Mrs. Firebaugh's cheer quickly vanished and she groaned "How are we going to get out of here?"

"Pull off your shoes and stockings and I'll carry you across," laughed Mr. Firebaugh. She straddled his back and he carried her safely to the bank.

On another occasion the Firebaughs were stopped on the road by rain and black mud and thus missed a preaching appointment at Matoy. At first, Mrs. Firebaugh began to fret on being unable to get to the church. Then she recalled what the late Missionary Lloyd (Rev. W. J. B.) use to say under like circumstances; "Well~ it's the Lord's work and the Lord's weather." Quoting this seemed to ease Mrs. Firebaugh.

"Oh, we've been in all these rivers," chuckled Dr. Firebaugh, "And on all the bad roads."

"Just as he retired gravelled roads and electric lights came in," sighed his wife.

Honorary Degree

In 1932 Mr. Firebaugh was requested to appear at his alma mater, Washington and Lee University to receive the honorary degree of doctor of divinity. That year he was commissioner to General Assembly in Montreat and from there went on to Lexington. The citation for the degree reads:

Missionary to those who within our own borders sit in darkness, statesman of a finer civilization for an under-privileged social order, devoted follower in the path of human need where walk the feet of Perfect Divinity. "

Live words of insight and deep appreciation for Dr. Firebaugh are found in the writings of the late Dr. Ebenezer Hotchkin. He wrote, "Dr. Firebaugh has many outstanding characteristics, three in particular: persistency, tenacity, and piety--persistent in business, tenacious in purpose, and pious i n presenting Christ to lost men."In a lighter mood Dr. Hotchkin wrote: "Firebaugh loves the wide open places, the streams of water, and the mountains, casts a good hook and shoots a good shot. He loves a dog. Long live the Firebaughs!"

Cherokee Lake Encampment

When the Firebaughs arrived in Oklahoma, there was a wide-spread interest in church camps. The Indians and the older missionaries like the Rev. Lloyd, were interested, too, and began to look for a camp site. One of the elders at the Chishoktak church donated three acres of ground around a lake called Cherokee Lake. The name came from the time the Cherokees camped there during the Civil War.

In 1913 and 1914 about thirty people camped out in tents at Cherokee Lake for the first conference. Each church group camped to itself and brought its own supplies. It rained most of the time those first two summers, which made cooking over a campfire very difficult. Dr. Firebaugh would hold an umbrella over his wife and the fire, while she made flapjacks for breakfast.

The next year Dr. Firebaugh built a cabin and others followed suit. Each year the Indians looked forward to the encampment at Cherokee Lake. Bible classes and other classes were held under trees or arbors. One of the main features of the camp was the evening services held by the lake side. The young people loved to get in a boat on the lake and lead the singing and the service. This service attracted people from all around.

The old Indians would not get in the boat on the lake to lead the services. "That would be imitating Christ too much," they said, "to talk from a boat." They were very humble and careful to do what they felt was the right thing.

The encampment's at Cherokee Lake continued until 1942. When the war came, it was hard to get gasoline and supplies, and the camp could not be held. After the war, the presbytery decided it would be better to send the Indian young people to the regular synod's youth conference, rather than have their separate conference, as they did at Cherokee Lake Encampments. Later the property was sold. But the Cherokee Lake encampments live on in the memories of hundreds who were benefitted by them.

Christian Education

Much Christian nurture of the children of the Indian churches was provided through Vacation Bible Schools. Each summer the Firebaughs recruited teachers and took them to the various churches. Among those who helped were Indian students trained at Oklahoma Presbyterian College. Bible School workers included: Merle and Eugenia Brown and Marie Wauchope of Shawnee; Bess and Anna Farr Pipkin (now a missionary to Brazil) Juanita and Lula Mae O'Bannon; Mary Lee Haraughty of Lawton (now a missionary to Japan); Mary Cusher; LaVerne O'Rear (now teacher of missionary children in Africa); the directors of Christian Education for the synod, beginning with the first one, Evelyn Green in 1936; Grace Thompson, the Director of Christian Education for Indian Presbytery, who worked closely with the Firebaughs from 1948 to 1957 and made an outstanding contribution to the Indian people. Oscar Gardner always referred to Grace as "Amazing Grace."

Finally, the earliest "Helper" to the Firebaughs in Christian Education was Dorothy Fincher. Years after Dorothy left the work to be married, the Indians when working on programs or projects, would say, "Dorothy Fincher said, 'do it this way.'" Then one would tell how Dorothy did it. If Dorothy Fincher said so, there was no better way, according to the Indians.

The Firebaugh Home

The Firebaugh home was always open to guests. Many of the Bible school workers or itinerant speakers felt the blessing of the Firebaugh hospitality.

The Bible and Day by Day devotional book were kept on the table in the breakfast nook. Being very methodical, Mrs. Firebaugh usually called her guests for breakfast at 7:30. After family worship breakfast would be over at 8:00, exactly in time to turn on the radio, at the end of the table, for the morning news.

Because the Firebaughs became noted for their happy, Christian home life, Mrs. Firebaugh was in demand as a teacher at young people's conferences on the course "Marriage and the Christian Home."

She was a church leader throughout the synod and served as president of the Synodical Women's Auxiliary four years, beginning in 1932. She recalls, "It took only one year of that extra work for me to realize that I could not carry a double load, so I resigned as Bible teacher at Goodland and devoted my full time to the woman's work of the synod. While going to Montreat I received a diploma in 1934, which made me an accredited teacher for the Board of Woman's Work."

This Board used Mrs. Firebaugh in a number of states as teacher of personal witnessing and missions. In October, 1941, the women of the church presented her with an Honorary Life Membership. In 1945, the Historical Foundation at Montreat presented her with a Certificate of Award as having done outstanding work as historian for Indian Presbytery. The Board of Church Extension used her in various states to present home missions.

"The honor we both appreciate most," Mrs. Firebaugh wrote, "and which made us profoundly humble, was one conferred by the young people of Indian Presbytery at their Spring Rally, April 1, 1951 --they conferred the degree of LLD -- Love, Loyalty and Devotion."

"I feel every circumstance of my childhood and early life prepared me in a small way for the work out here in Indian Presbytery."

Encouraging Young Men in the Ministry

One of the most effective parts of Dr. Firebaugh's ministry has been to encourage and help the young men who have felt the call to the ministry. The first one he helped was Leonard Spears, a white boy, of the little Banty community, north of Bokchito, Mr. Spears has served churches in Oklahoma, Texas, and California, and served as chaplain in World War I and II.

Next Dr. Firebaugh helped enlist for the ministry Grady James (1/4 Choctaw) from Poteau and Oscar A. Gardner (1/4 Choctaw) from Old Bennington. Then he encouraged Simon Belvin (a full-blood Choctaw) from Good Springs, Richard Harrison (1/8 Choctaw) from Banty and John Bohanan (full-blood Choctaw) from Eagletown.

Three men Dr. Firebaugh himself trained for the ministry were full-blood Chickasaws: Jonas Imotichey and Watson Colbert from Fillmore; and Elijah Wisdom from Bromide. During two years Dr. Firebaugh went once a week to the Sandy Creek church at Fillmore or to Jonas Imotichey's house there to teach these three. They were men who did not have the educational qualifications to enter the seminary, and could not leave their families to further their education. "All three have proven very helpful men," said Dr. Firebaugh.

The most copious writer of Dr. Firebaugh's "Sons in the ministry" was Oscar Alexander Gardner. Oscar, in his letters, referred to Dr. Firebaugh as "The Old Doctor" or "The Beloved Doctor."

In a letter Oscar wrote, "The Old Doctor has a philosophy that is Christian and therefore very humiliating. He said, 'That anyone could be reached with the Gospel, but we peddlers bungled the job."'

Another letter begins, "The Beloved Doctor has been building churches all summer and has now begun to build programs for the coming meeting of the Indian Presbytery. His idea is to have all the ministers who have come from Indian Presbytery on the program with an assigned topic on 'The Church." . . . So take your pick and consider yourself invited, solicited and all but commanded to be present."

All these ministers and their wives have been like sons and daughters to the Firebaughs. Mrs. Firebaugh addressed her letters to every couple, "My dear Children."

Appreciation of the Indians

Philosophy: "The Indians are wonderful people," the Firebaughs say with deep feeling. They enjoy pointing out the fine traits of their Indian friends. They have appreciated the good sense and humor and rich expressions of the Indians. One friend they like to quote is Sam Dyer, Dr. Firebaugh's interpreter. This was his philosophy of government. "Uncle Sam is a fine old fellow. He will always do the right thing. He'll carry out his promises. But he has a lot of business to attend to --- too much to handle himself. He has to turn some over to his boys. And he's got some mighty crooked boys."

Indian Cooking: "The Indians are superior to us in their cooking," Mrs. Firebaugh said, "especially anything in the meat line. Of course we love their breads, banaha, pashofa and shuck bread. In the early days the Indians would work for hours to grind corn in a pestle, in a wood block. Two women with a pestle would pound the corn alternately. Then they would fan the husk off. They could grind it fine enough to make pashofa or fine enough to make flour.

One day Mrs. William LeFlore from Chishoktak gave six pones of shuck bread to Dr. Firebaugh to give his wife. This bread is put in a corn shuck and tied in the middle. When Dr. Firebaugh reached home, Mrs. Firebaugh was already in bed, but she was so glad to get the shuck bread, she got up and cooked it and ate four of the pones.

Dr. Firebaugh has especially liked the sour bread. It is cooked in a pot in the ashes over the coals and then set on the side of the fireplace where it keeps warm and sours.

For desserts the Indians use blackberries or huckleberries to make a dish similar to a cobbler. They have learned how to make cakes and pies from the white people.

Only a few of the Indians today still make the old-style dishes. The others cook like the white people.

Stewardship: Time and again the Firebaughs have been touched by the generosity of the Choctaw and Chickasaw Christians. They remember one night in 1914 when the small congregation at Good Springs near Boswell raised $300 to buy the land for their church.

Another occasion Mrs. Firebaugh recalls was during the depression, about 1930, when Dr. Firebaugh went to the Beachton Church. He stayed so long, Mrs. Firebaugh began to get anxious. When he returned she asked why he had stayed so long. "I had a hard time getting across the river," he explained, "but when I got to Beachton the Choctaws had the house full. I had to meet all of them. At the service they took an offering for Home Missions." He patted his pocket. "Here is the $200 they gave right here."

Another inspiring example of giving during the depression days, which the Firebaughs tell of, was that of a group of women from the Cold Springs Church, seven miles from Hugo. "The Indians have always been interested in missions and have given liberally to that cause," said Mrs. Firebaugh. But during those hard times the women had no money for world missions. This worried them. Then they learned that bean pickers were needed. Here was a way to earn money. The women walked three and a half miles to the main highway and caught the truck taking pickers to the bean fields in the country. All day they picked beans, rode the truck back and walked the three and a half miles home. After a week of bean-picking they had their offering for world missions, about $ 3.50 each.

Another offering which the Indians like to give is the Christmas "Joy Gift" offering for retired ministers, or their widows. When Anna Palmer Fobb (Mrs. Benjamin) of Moyers, "one of the finest Christians among them," was on her deathbed, she sent for the Firebaughs one day in November. When they arrived, she said, "Come over here, I want to tell you something." She began to fumble under her pillow and pulled out her purse. From it she took a five-dollar bill and handed it to them. In her dying condition and broken English, she stammered, "I want to give this for Joy Gift . . . old ministers . . . half-way paid."

The Indians like to come forward and place their offering in the offering plates. They try to follow the Biblical custom of "casting offerings into the treasury."

Next to the Bible the Indians looked to the Firebaughs as their guides. Mrs. Firebaugh had once suggested to the women of Saint Matthews Church, near Broken Bow, that Choctaw hymn No. 107 was a good hymn to sing as the women came forward with their offerings. That hymn, then, became part of every offering service.

A good while later Mrs. Firebaugh was leading the program, explaining the annual Women's Birthday Offering. When she asked that the offering be presented, her offering was the only one. Not another penny was given. She knew something was wrong, because the Indian women had always been so faithful to give this offering and had even prided themselves on the fact that the women of Indian Presbytery were always 100 percent in this offering -- each church making a contribution.

Rev. Oscar Gardner, the pastor of the church, present at the time, solved the mystery. "Mrs. Firebaugh, you taught them to sing No. 107 when they gave the offering. They are waiting to do that." And they were! After the singing, the women came forward with generous offerings.

Prayer Life: The Indian women have not always been given to audible prayer as an early account of the women's work reveals.

Mrs. Lizzie Wolfe, widow of the Rev. Jonas Wolfe of Sandy Creek, was first president of Presbyterial Union. Her daughter told Mrs. Firebaugh about the women and their timidity in praying: "Mother kept urging them to pray audibly, but they were too timid to speak. So in her desperation she called on them to kneel in prayer and continue on their knees until all prayed. Most of the afternoon found the women in this attitude, but one by one they found utterance in audible prayer."

The prayer life of the Indian people has been a blessing. In 1928 Mrs. Firebaugh was sick in the hospital at Paris, Texas. The women of Chishoktak church organized a prayer band to pray for her. For the eight weeks Mrs. Firebaugh remained in the hospital, the prayer band met faithfully in her behalf.

Her Indian friends would come in droves to see her. The nurses said, "Mrs. Firebaugh, there are too many of them. They will make you sick." But Mrs. Firebaugh always said, "No, they won't. Let them come in. They have never made me sick. They help make me well."

Finally, when word came that Mrs Firebaugh was well enough to go home, the Indian women said, "The Lord has heard our prayers. Now we shall walk back to the church to thank Him." And a special thanksgiving service was held.

An outstanding example of devotion to God was shown in the life of Cicen Burris Holden (Mrs. John), whose husband, a full-blood Chickasaw, was a minister. (Oscar Gardner started everyone calling him "Three Whiskers" because of his sparce goatee.)

In the early 1940's when it came time for the annual encampment at Luffy's Chapel, Mrs. Holden, eighty years old, was very ill. She knew the value of the encampment with its sunrise prayer meetings, Vacation Bible School and evening preaching services. "Carry me to the encampment," she said. "I must set the example and encourage the young people to go."

Her bed was placed under a brush arbor. After several days her condition became worse and the doctor was called. When he told her family gathered there, that she was dying, they began to sing a Choctaw hymn as they stood around her bed. They kept singing until she passed from this life to be forever with her Lord. The chapel bell was tolled eighty times, once for each year of her life. Her people have never forgotten her example.

Teachability: Mrs. Firebaugh has never ceased to be amazed at how the Indian women followed her every suggestion. In a class at Cherokee Lake she emphasized the importance of cleanliness and orderliness in the church. "You can't worship the Lord the way you should when you have old clothes stuck in the windowpanes," she told them.

The next time she went to Beachton she found the church cleaned and scrubbed. "Everything looks so nice. Who did all this?" she asked.

"Why, mother did," replied one of the girls. "She said you said we shouldn't worship in a church with clothes stuck in the windows. We got busy and cleaned up the church."

Because of the Indian women's admiration for Mrs. Firebaugh, seven of them named daughters for her. "All seven married well and are doing very well," said Mrs. Firebaugh proudly.

The Challenge: "The real challenge," Mrs. Firebaugh once observed, "is to help the Indians to develop into responsible and dependable Christian citizens and to take their place economically with the white race and at the same time preserve their culture and worthy traits of character which are their heritage.

Uniting of Indian and Durant Presbyteries

When it was decided that it was best to unite Indian and Durant Presbyteries, using the name Indian Presbytery for the combined groups, Dr. Firebaugh was asked to speak upon the occasion of the uniting. His words were as follows:

We are about to close an organization that has had, through God, a long and useful existence. This Presbytery was organized in September, 1840. So for 117 years it has formulated and devised the spiritual life of our Indian churches. It seems appropriate that in this, its last and 235th session, we should give a little time to its history, not just from sentiment alone but that our children might be informed of their splendid heritage. Before Texas gained her independence or before Austin College was organized, we were a going and working presbytery.

One of the early missionaries to the Indians, Rev. Ebenezer Hotchkin, journeyed to the Presbytery of South Carolina to be examined and ordained, and after Indian Presbytery was organized, the delegates journeyed to South Carolina to attend the meeting of Synod. Then the Synod of Memphis was 37 organized and Indian Presbytery attended that synod. Afterwards, we belonged to the Synod of Arkansas.

Finally, before becoming a member of the Synod of Oklahoma in 1908, we were a Presbytery in the Synod of Texas.

One of our ministers and a ruling elder of this Presbytery were a part of our first General Assembly in 1861. Indian Presbytery sent one of its ministers, Frank Hall Wright, to the Apaches and Commanches and started the work among the Indians around Lawton, a Mission of the Reformed Presbyterian Church. One of the ministers, Rev. Allen Wright (father of Frank Hall Wright), of this Presbytery was responsible for choosing the name of our state. Indian Presbytery believed in education and the third state in America having compulsory education was the Choctaw Nation. The Choctaw Nation passed a compulsory attendance law in 1884, "penalizing the parents by a fine of ten cents a day for the absence of each child between the ages of seven and eighteen that could not be excused through bad weather, high water or sickness."

THEREFORE, Mr. Moderator and Madam President, I would like to offer this Resolution:

IN THANKFULNESS to the mercy and grace of our heavenly Father;

IN RECOGNITION of His wonderful leading of the Indian people through the years;

IN FULL RELIANCE upon His eternal promises for the future;

We MOST HUMBLY dedicate ourselves anew, at the close of this Presbytery, to serve Him with all our hearts in the new Presbytery to be established.

HEAR, OH CHOCTAWS AND CHICKASAWS, The Lord our God is One God.

All present were uplifted by the closing prayer led by Dr. Robert McElwee Firebaugh:

We praise Thee, O God our Father, and are humbly thankful that we creatures can approach our Creator, that a sinner can find a Redeemer, that the unclean can be cleansed by the Divine Spirit, that the useless can be servants in the Divine Plan, for the wonders of Thy Grace, we adore Thee. For the multitude of Thy tender mercies, we praise Thee. For Thy patient dealings, we stand amazed. Awaken us as Thy children to these glorious privileges. Strengthen us for our duties, and work out in us all that Thou wouldst have us do. In Christ's Name, Amen.

Retirement

In 1959, Dr. Firebaugh reached his 75th birthday and retired, after 47 years as an active pastor. A meeting to honor him was held in Hugo, but the Indian churches wanted their own commemorative services. One was held at Sandy Creek, and one at Old Bennington. At Old Bennington 150 attended a potluck supper and program. Rev. Roy R. Craig, a long-time friend and associate of the Firebaughs, was in charge. Many told how much the Firebaughs had meant to them. All of the Choctaws and Chickasaws sang one of the Firebaughs favorite Choctaw hymns, No. 121, a translation of "Come, Holy Spirit, Heavenly Dove." Then everyone sang in English Mrs. Firebaugh's favorite hymn, "When I Survey The Wondrous Cross."

The Reverend Ray Spivey read a poem which he had written for the honorees. It was appropriate, that for these who had come from a town of healing springs in Virginia to bring the life-giving message of God to Oklahoma, the poem was based on Psalm 84:5-6; "Blessed are the men whose strength is in thee, in whose heart are the highways to Zion. As they go through the valley of Baca they make it a place of springs."

In the Valley of Baca

Psalm 84:6-As they go through the Valley of Baca they make it a place of springs.

The Valley of Baca now blossoms anew

With the flowers that grow by the springs

Which step after step have upsprung after you;

And the song that the desert now sings

Bears the theme of corn passion patience and toil,

Of the fragrance of love that is strong,

Of the faith the hope and assurance that ring

From the heavenly portals in song.

The way has been hard the path winding and slow

And the harvest hag often been poor;

But the way of love bears its own great reward,

And it leads without fail to your door.

In the Valley of Baca we too would dig,

Given strength by your care of its springs;

And as each new flower bursts forth on their brink,

We'll thank God for the desert that sings.

-Raymond B. Spivey

Surely these words of Christ have been realized in the Firebaughs: "Whoever drinks of the water that I shall give him will never thirst; the water that I shall give him will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life." (John 4:14)

It is interesting to note that the name, Firebaugh, in German, means "singing brook."

Expressions of appreciation were not only verbal to the Firebaughs upon their retirement, but material. A sum of over $570 was presented as a love gift from friends. As was suggested, a television set was bought with part of the money. In presentation, Lila Craig (Mrs. Roy R.) read a poem which she had written. Here is a portion of her verse:

Letters expressing appreciation were put in a leather binder.

Dr. Claude H. Pritchard, the General Assembly's Secretary Home Missions, wrote, "In terms of souls saved, lives transformed, hearts gladdened, leadership developed and churches strengthened, yours has been a tremendous and lasting ministry."

Ruby McDurmon, Synod's Director of Christian Education for the Synod of Oklahoma, wrote, "Presbyterianism in Oklahoma means to me, among other things, . . . the Firebaughs. "

The Rev. Forest Whitworth, who was reared in Wewoka, Oklahoma, and is now pastor of St. Mark Presbyterian Church, Dallas, wrote, "My first recollection of you both is from the synod's youth conference at Lake Murray in 1941. That conference was the beginning of a series of experiences that God used to lead me into His service. "

The Rev. and Mrs. Richard Harrison of Holdenville, wrote, "Your faith in us has been a wonderful influence in our lives ."

"Bergue" was the name Dr. Firebaugh gave the soup which he cooked for days to get the right flavor. "It should be cooked about eight days to make it really good, " says Dr. Firebaugh.

Samantha Williams (Mrs. Nelson), from the Chishoktak Church, wrote Mrs. Firebaugh, "From my childhood days to now I have never seen you or Mr. Firebaugh without a smile. It's always like the picture of a full moon . . . always with a big smile. When I was a child, I always looked forward to the month of May, because that was when the women had their Birthday Offering. Mr. Firebaugh always brought ice cream and cold drinks for refreshments. I thought, 'There's no better white man around here than Mr. Firebaugh."'

In 1962 the Firebaughs celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary. Their two sons gave a reception for them at the Episcopal Parish House in Hugo. A large crowd of friends attended.

Cherished by the Firebaughs also is a book of letters by former students of Goodland, written in 1957. This shower of letters was suggested by the Goodland Alumni Association. Following are excerpts from a few of the letters.

"I remember with joy the year I was in the eighth grade with Mrs. Firebaugh as my teacher. You taught me many gems of wisdom and all the manners I have. I certainly learned well, ~That a lady doesn't chew gum except in the privacy of her boudoir." Elma Spring (Mrs. Edward Perryman), Albuquerque, New Mexico.

"The most outstanding contribution you made to me personally was being the inspiration that made me change my way of life and live for the Lord." --- Arlie Gardner Gardner (Mrs. C. A. Dominick), Hortshorne.

"I have wondered what my life would have been without the Bible teachings you gave me."--Corrine Lancaster (Mrs. H. H. halfmoon), Oklahoma City.

"For much of the meaningfulness in my life I owe a lot, more than words can express, to your help, your guidance and your faith in youth." Richard Fitzgerald, Superintendent, Seneca Indian School, Wyandotte, Oklahoma.

"Had it not been for the association with you during the formative years of my life, I perhaps would not be a Christian today." --- Hope Evans (Mrs. William LaShier), Amarillo, Texas.

"I am so overwhelmingly indebted to you two in so many areas of my life. I met Mrs. Firebaugh in the eighth grade classroom at Goodland. She left the impression that the classroom is the place to learn and that obviously there was no time for paper wads. Then in the social life, of which I had had so little, she invited us to her home and her planned parties were excitingly pleasant. From her acts we knew she was also concerned about our spiritual nurture.

"I had always been afraid of preachers. Even though I became a church member under the ministry of Dr. Firebaugh in 1924 (Goodland Church), it was not until my senior year in high school that I had a man to man talk with him. At first I was afraid, but I soon learned that he was like any other man, but much better. He aided in enlisting me for the ministry. --- Grady James, Talihina, Oklahoma.

"My personal advancement with the Federal Prison Service has been much greater than I could ordinarily expect. This, I sincerely believe, is due in some measure to the small portion of Scripture learned at Goodland, regarding Paul's letter to Timothy, including instructions to the workman that needs not to be ashamed." --- Orville James (Associate Warden) El Reno, Oklahoma.

Humility

Through the years the Firebaughs have received many honors, and many articles have been written about them in church magazines and books. Yet the honors have never caused them to lose their humility. "Too much has been written about us," says Dr. Firebaugh modestly.

He likes to tell experiences that have belittled him, such as the time he was invited to speak on Sunday in a schoolhouse at a small community.

When he entered the school room, a woman superintendent was closing the Sunday school. Dr. Firebaugh slipped into one of the back desks. When the woman finished, she looked at him and said, "You're the minister, aren't you?"

"Yes, I'm the 2 by 4 preacher," replied Dr. Firebaugh with a grin.

"That's what I thought," said the woman solemnly.

Another anecdote Dr. Firebaugh enjoys is one about his grandfather, which has probably helped him to avoid the pitfall of pride. His grandfather was an elder in the Bethesda Presbyterian Church in Rockbridge Baths, Virginia. After the Civil War, Elder Firebaugh thought women's hats were too frivolous and criticized the women for being vain. He asked the minister to preach on "pride." The minister complied, but in his sermon said, "Brother Firebaugh is just as proud of his jeans, as the women are of their hats."

Mrs. Firebaugh has always shown a humble spirit, too. She used to refer to their work among the small rural churches as "hoeing in our little patch."

Yet she has had a far-reaching service. Through her letters she has encouraged so many in the U.S. and in other lands. (No wonder one of her hobbies has been stamp-collecting!)

Mary Garland Taylor, soon after going to Brazil as a missionary, wrote Mrs. Firebaugh of her activities and then closed by saying, ~Please pray that I will be more useful." "Why, I'm not going to pray that prayer," gasped Mrs. Firebaugh. "If she does any more, she will kill herself."

Family

Visits from their two sons, and their families brighten the lives of the Firebaughs. Robert, a banker, with his wife, Elizabeth Pruitt Firebaugh and daughter, Virginia (a junior at OSU), live at Stillwater, Oklahoma. Another daughter, Elizabeth Ann, with her husband, Dan Dillon, lives at Fort Collins, Colorado. Charles, a salesman of a steel company, lives at Denver with his wife, Vada Hilton Firebaugh, and their children, Gary, Susie, and Gail. Both Robert and Charles and their families are active in the Presbyterian Church.

Before Charles married, he and his father planned a Christmas present prank on his mother. For weeks she kept saying how nice it would be to have another piece of Wedgwood so as to finish her set.

The family opened their presents together before the open burning fireplace. The first present she received from her husband had no more than gotten opened until present, wrappings and all went right into the fire. Charles, having previously stationed himself near the fireplace anticipating his mother's scorn, retrieved the present. It was a woodman's wedge made by Dr. Firebaugh from a piece of wood. But at the top of the wedge was a deep slit with a ten dollar bill therein.

Continued Service

Though officially retired, Dr. Firebaugh has continued to preach each Sunday. For the past six years he has gone regularly to Bennington.

Now more time can be given to his hobby, carpentry, and he spends hours in the shop in his backyard making coffee tables, chairs, and other items. His knowledge of carpentry has grown, by necessity, through the years. "When we first came to Oklahoma, the churches were in such need of repair," said Dr. Firebaugh, "What I felt somebody had to learn to do a little carpenter work. I had not been here over two weeks until I had to put the bell tower on the church at Bennington. . . I had help of course. Since that time, I've had to repair and build churches and manses all over the presbytery."

For the most part of the last two years, Mrs. Firebaugh has been in the nursing home at Hugo. There, too, a strong Christian witness is given. When she is there, she, with about ten others, have met each day, when they are able, for Bible study and prayer. Dr. Firebaugh walks the 16 blocks to the Home each day to lead the group.

A year ago, when Dr. Firebaugh went to sleep driving his car, and landed in the ditch, he decided he should turn in his driver's license. He has taken this deprivation of transportation cheerfully. "It's a good exercise to walk," he says, with a smile and a characteristic quick nod of his head.

And so this man and woman of God go about their days continuing to serve faithfully in the ways and places God opens to them.

Only a few of the many experiences from their long and useful life have been recorded in these pages. But their influence is indelibly recorded on the lives of their many friends, of all races, and will continue to be a blessing to generations to come.

Who will follow the trails they have blazed, for the nurture of God's people in small rural communities?

Appendix

It was Friday, November 18, 1938, the last night of the meeting Dr. Firebaugh was holding in the Nadesville church. In giving The Invitation that night, Dr. Firebaugh said, "Won't you come~ I came on a last verse."

Dr. Firebaugh's mischief has not yet faded away. At a minister's retreat, Lake Texoma, Grady James was popping corn and Dr. Firebaugh slipped some old Limburger cheese into the popper -- the aroma suddenly became terrible but the saints ate the corn.

The Choctaw accent: The late Rev. Oscar Gardner could well imitate the Choctaw Indian when the latter tried to express himself in the English language. Listen!

This morning I am scheduled to see Blanche's (Mrs. Dewey Williams) papoose.

Heap big show for all concerned except me, and I got beg sweat and blush.

You watch, I not die from stomach-ache. I die from heart stop. See, it is lots work for heart to all time be send blood when brain say he gone blush again. Lots time I believe man is better if he have two hearts like air-plane got it lots motors. One heart run body and other heart take care that blushing and excitement what comes and goes with the strange force called "L o v e."