Rock River was the home of the lamented Rev. James M.S. Maxson, before he entered the Itinerant work. It was here that he was led to Christ, licensed to preach, and sent out into the vineyard, and certainly the church has had no occasion to deplore her share of the responsibility. Brother Maxson entered the Conference in 1850, and filled with great credit, Omro, Fall River, Grove street Milwaukee, Oconomowoc, Rosendale and Ripon charges. At the last named place, he closed his labors June 19, 1858. He was a man of great force of character, a good preacher, and was thoroughly devoted to his work. He was greatly beloved in his fields of labor, and his death was deeply regretted.
Having organized the class at Rock River, and arranged the plan of appointments to take it into the circuit, I passed on to visit an appointment at the Wilkinson Settlement, which had recently been attached to my charge from the Fond du Lac Circuit. It was situated on the south side of the marsh, nine miles from Fond du Lac and twelve from Waupun. The school house, in which the meetings were held, was located within the limits of the present village of Oakfield.
The class at this place had been formed during the early part of 1844, by Rev H.S. Bronson, when he was pastor of Lake Winnebago Mission, and consisted of Russell Wilkinson, Leader, and Alma, his wife, Robert Wilkinson, and Almira, his wife, Eliza Botsford and Sarah Bull.
To reach the settlement, it was necessary to follow the military road towards Fond du Lac for some distance, and then cross the marsh. At times, the stream in the middle was swollen, and the traveler was compelled to leave his horse and cross on foot. This was especially true when the ice was not sufficiently strong to bear up the horse, and such was the condition in which I found it on this occasion. So, leaving my horse, I hastened to cross the marsh, but when I had reached the middle of the stream, the treacherous ice gave way, and I plunged into the water up to my armpits. I clambered out, but as the day was intensely cold, I was soon a walking pillar of ice. I was now on the school house side of the stream, and there seemed to be no alternative but to go on. I would gladly have found a shelter and a fire elsewhere, but it was out of the question. So, putting on a bold face, I hastened forward, and found the people in waiting for the minister. As I entered the school house, with the ice rattling at every movement, my appearance was ridiculous in the extreme. But not more so than that of the audience. The faces of that crowd would certainly have been the delight of a painter. Some of them were agape with surprise and amazement; others were agonized with sympathy for the poor minister; and others still were full of mirth, and would have laughed outright if they had not been in a religious meeting. As to myself, the whole matter took a mirthful turn. I had been in church before, when by some queer or grotesque conjunction of affairs, the whole audience lost self control. I had witnessed mistakes, blunders and accidents that would make even solemnity herself laugh, and remained serenely grave. But to see myself in the presence of that polite audience, standing at that stove, and turning from side to side, to thaw the icicles from the skirts of my coat, was too much for me. I confess it was utterly impossible to keep my face in harmony with the character of the pending services.