THE building of railroads through the state of Montana brought a rapid development. The section around Great Falls became a prosperous farming country. The settlement, therefore, formed a new center for the church, and Brother Van came to this district, not as a missionary at large, nor junior preacher, nor circuit-rider this time, he came now as a presiding elder, or district superintendent for all of that part of Montana east of the Rocky Mountains and north of the Musselshell River. It was known as the North Montana Mission and was about five twelfths of the total area of the state. Let us get some idea concerning this new work with which Brother Van was busy by making a comparison. The whole of Massachusetts, New Hampshire, Vermont, Rhode Island, Connecticut, New Jersey, Delaware, Maryland, and the District of Columbia could be placed within the bounds of the district and still leave four thousand square miles of territory.

In all this area there were three hundred and fifty-five members of Brother Van’s church and fifty-three probationers. There were ten church buildings altogether. This property was valued at twenty-five thousand dollars. There were four parsonages valued at four thousand dollars. The twenty Sunday-schools had a membership of nine hundred and twenty-five. The ten preachers received five thousand, six hundred and fifty-one dollars a year, or an average of five hundred and sixty dollars each. The churches gave four hundred and seventy-six dollars to benevolences.

Many of the people whom Brother Van now served came from Eastern homes and were familiar with ideals of culture and refinement. They had cut loose from the East with its old associations and conventionalities, and had come to face a new life on the frontier so full of promise. Imagine a town of two thousand inhabitants composed of people from every state in the Union, and from every civilized country in the world, of every color, race, and creed, speaking fifteen or twenty languages, and clinging to varying religious beliefs, and you will then have an idea of a mining town such as Brother Van found as he traveled through his district. The West was still, however, the easy prey for evil, and at every crossroad and station could be seen the sign, “Saloon and Licensed Gambling.” The gamblers and saloon men were leading citizens, and they had to be reckoned with. Brother Van had been a prohibitionist always. He had seen the effect of alcohol in his boyhood days, especially in the oil regions. As he grew all too familiar with the dreadful fire-water which demoralized and beggared the Indians whom he sought to emancipate, a new hatred of the vile stuff took possession of him.

The Rev.George Logan tells a story of Brother Van as district superintendent which illustrates the spirit of comradeship that he shares with all men, even the saloon men and gamblers. On one Sunday morning Mr.Logan asked for a good collection to make up the district superintendent’s salary, saying, “If I don’t get it this morning, I’ll come again tonight.” The collection was not big enough, and true to his word the second collection was asked for. One man put a stack of six silver dollars on the plate and so the amount received was sufficient to make up the sum required for the unpaid salary.

Going down town next day Mr.Logan met the man of the silver dollars, who with a grin asked, “Did you raise Brother Van’s money last night?”

“I did,” was the pastor’s reply.

“Did you notice that stack of silver dollars on the plate?”

“I did,” said Mr.Logan again.

“Well, I’ll tell you a story if you’ll promise not to get angry about it.”

“I promise,” said the preacher.

“Two men at the service on Sunday morning remembered afterward that Brother Van’s salary was short, and they agreed to play for the money in the afternoon. If A. won, the money was to be Brother Van’s; if B. did, Brother Van lost. Word went around and the saloon filled with sports to watch the game. If A. won, the crowd yelled, ‘The Lord gets that!’ and if B. was lucky, ‘That goes to the devil!’”

A. had won, and the unsuspecting District Superintendent’s salary was paid by the successful gambler. Mr.Logan looked the narrator in the eye, and said, “I’m so glad Igot that money; it has been in the hands of the devil long enough. Brother Van will put it to a better use.”

It was through many unique incidents and strange experiences that Brother Van’s work was built up. Steadily the character of the country changed and another generation was growing up. Stalwart sons and daughters of the settlers began to try to win a means of education in the desert. They looked beyond the shining mountains to college and to seminary. As Brother Van traveled from place to place he pondered over this problem. No children of his own will look to him for education, but had he not claimed spirituality in this wide land for the children? He saw that the boys and girls were eager for larger social privileges and for a higher intellectual life; so he decided that Montana should have a Christian school. For thirteen years he toiled to secure one; other men’s names appeared on the committee formed for the enterprise and in time disappeared, but the name of William Wesley Van Orsdel always headed the list. He was not an educated man as far as the study of books was concerned. Only in the School of Experience and in the Seminary of Hard Knocks had he taken postgraduate courses. But he was now determined that the young people of Montana should have first, a Christian influence, and, second, an education.

Because of that thinking, planning, and praying of the missionary, there came a day when the capital city, Helena, had a new asset. Five miles from the center of the town stood a fifty-thousand-dollar brick building dedicated to the young people of Montana. The campus of two hundred and thirty-five acres was beautified, and the school was opened. The distance from town, the newness of the undertaking, the indifference of the people, all proved insurmountable difficulties to every one but Brother Van. For ten years the school struggled to succeed while the trustees felt almost constantly that they must close it, but Brother Van would not consent. Then a radical measure was adopted. The school was moved to Helena, where to-day Montana Wesleyan University stands in friendly neighborliness to the capitol building. Montana Wesleyan antedated all state schools in Montana for higher education.

Brother Van watched those two buildings on Capitol Hill with a peculiar yearning. He remembered the town of Helena as it had looked when he reached it on that summer day in 1872. He remembered the first capitol building in Bannack, where it was his lot to bury the four plainsmen who had lost their lives because the Indians could not understand the coming of the white man into their hunting ground. The first legislature was held in two rooms in a log cabin. Tallow candles emphasized the gloom. Sheet-iron stoves made the pent-up air seem stifling. One desk and a bench in each room completed the furnishing of this first capitol. The library was composed of one copy of the Idaho Statutes.

On February 22, 1889, Montana became a state and Helena became the capital. Helena of Last Chance Gulch fame had grown rapidly, as its eastern seekers of gold became housed in cabins, wickiups, shacks, and tents. Helena became a wicked city, where Sunday was the wildest day of the wild week. Then came a period of reconstruction. Schools were built, imposing sites were sought for churches; the dugout school disappeared from the prairie, and in its place came the little red schoolhouse. The first public school had been opened on March 5, 1866, in Virginia City. There were no text-books. Every child brought any book he might possess. Now schools were becoming common in Montana. Daily papers were needed and in place of the Montana Post which had been published in the cellar of a log cabin in Virginia City and dates from May, 1868, came the Montana Record Herald.

Montana had a state pride and no man could surpass Brother Van as he sang the praises of his adopted state. As civilization progressed the new State-house now standing on Capitol Hill was needed. This was a thrilling time in the life of the young state. When the imposing building was completed and ready to be dedicated, Montana’s representatives gathered and stood with bared heads as Brother Van offered this prayer:

“O thou God of our fathers, we draw near to thee in the name of thy Son, our Saviour, to acknowledge the many blessings of which we are the recipients, on this our nation’s birthday; the day when this was declared to be a free and independent nation, and which now stands out among the nations as a star of the first magnitude. OGod, may thy presence ever abide with our nation. We invoke thy blessing on our President, and those associated with him in directing the affairs of the nation.

“We are here in this great new commonwealth, pioneer men and women, who came here in the earlier settlements and opened up the way for success; we are here to-day with our children and associates to honor the state and thee. We are here to dedicate and set apart this magnificent building, this capitol building, to the purpose for which it was built. Let thy blessing rest on the exercises of this hour. May thy blessing rest on the government of the state, the officers, the capitol commission, and all who have been associated with the planning and completing of the building.

“Let thy blessing be upon our representatives, on both houses of congress, on state senators and legislators, who shall meet in this house from time to time. May we all realize that great is that people whose God is the Lord. May we flee evil. Amen.”

The walls of the Senate Chamber of that great building are adorned with paintings done by Mr.Charles Russell, who came to Montana in 1881 and achieved fame as the cowboy artist. No creation of his brain or brush ever exploits any theme but Montana and the West. The modern home of Mr.Russell is at Great Falls and in the spacious grounds surrounding it stands a log cabin. Let us visit it with Brother Van, who is an old-time friend of the owner.

The porch has no board floor and is low, so we can see the roof strewn with buffalo horns and skulls. On the stockade-door the latch-string hangs out, and it means just that, a true Western hospitality. We pull the string, the latch lifts, and we stand in the presence of the cowboy artist. He looks both cowboy and artist. His long hair is thrown back from a strong and sun-browned face, and this suggests the artist; so does the scarlet sash that he wears. His flannel shirt is open at the throat, and his Khaki trousers are thrust into high boots, showing the habit of the cowboy.

Around that interesting room is a record of the history of Montana. War-bonnets and tomahawks hang from pegs. In a rack are rifles which tell the story of firearm progress from the flintlock to the Springfield, and then to the Winchester. Indian beads, rugs, baskets, and blankets form a wealth of color on the walls, and before a great fireplace stands an easel, and lo, the artist is telling our story in a finer way. There are the figures of Lewis and Clarke on the canvas. An Indian village is in the background, and in the center we recognize the woman guide, Sacajawea. She is meeting her childhood friend who had been taken prisoner when she was.

As he watched Montana develop with the anxiety that a father gives to the growth of an awkward, beloved boy, Brother Van saw a new need. Always had he ministered to sick and dying miners, cowboys, and settlers. But as the years passed he saw that it would be a great advantage to the state if the sick and dying could be cared for with all the help that modern medical science affords. He realized the necessity of placing patients under religious influence and teaching. The cure of souls was to him even more important than the cure of bodies; so he began to talk and to pray for a Christian hospital. Probably fifty thousand dollars has passed through Brother Van’s hands in the time he has served Montana, but he owns no home or cattle. Even the pony is no more and a Ford is not its successor. The salary for his first year’s work was nothing, and for the second it was seventy-five dollars. In later years he received seventeen hundred dollars. Yet every Protestant enterprise has had an impetus from Brother Van’s pocketbook.

He interested his church in the need of a hospital, and deaconesses were brought west and a hospital was started. Every one but the prime mover became discouraged by the hardships that the project encountered, but he continued to sing, to pray, to praise Montana, and to work for Montana. In Great Falls now stands a beautiful hospital, entirely fireproof and modern in every convenience. In the hall of the building hangs a painting. It is a western scene, and shows a man riding furiously toward the leader of a herd of buffalo; Indians ride behind as interested spectators to the shooting of the large beast. The inscription below is “Brother Van shooting buffalo,” and it illustrates the story already told. The artist is Charles M. Russell.

Across the street is the Van Orsdel Home where white-capped and swift-footed nurses reside, and this is the story of the building. Once upon a time some gamblers, cowboys, and saloon men decided that they, too, wanted to tell Brother Van that they wished him well. He had fought the saloon with a zeal that could not be misunderstood, but he fought fairly. He hated the business and told its supporters so in no mincing language; but he didn’t hate the men and they knew that. They decided to raise one thousand dollars and give it to him that he might buy a home of his own, or that he might have the money to do as he wished. The fund was started. At first it grew slowly and then by bounds. It was put in a bank and as time went by the deposit was forgotten. Agambler, who was on his death-bed, wanted to see Brother Van. He answered the call at once, and was able to help the dying man hear from the Master, “Thy sins are forgiven thee.” In his last moments the man told about the money that was lying in the bank and accumulating interest. Brother Van drew it out and soon a nurses’ home was started.

Within the walls of the Van Orsdel Home is a home life of rare culture and beauty. Many girls are sheltered and trained there who were brought to the pioneer preacher as infants twenty years earlier that he might lay hands on them in baptism. At the beginning of each school year of the Nurses’ Training School, Brother Van greets those uniformed students with encouraging words and with a tender appeal for loyalty to the Master whom he serves.

One of Brother Van’s enterprises seemed not to be of God’s planning. That was the original home of Montana Wesleyan, five miles from Helena. People spoke of the neglected building as a mistake and an expensive failure. Boys threw stones through every pane of glass in the three-story building. Afamily of lively coyotes occupied the big dining-room; bats took up their abode in the dark corners; spiders spun their webs unhindered over the ceiling, and owls seemingly joined the scoffers in their derision of the enterprise. Occasionally a solitary figure would come into the building and kneeling in the dust, would implore God to give him a reason against the prevalent unbelief. He would ask God to use these buildings for his own service, and for the Christian uplift of young people. Surely there was some use for them. The years passed, and this solitary figure began to see another need for his cherished Montana. The young people had long since been coming to the university on Capitol Hill, but in the wide expanses of the state there were yet many children unschooled. There were orphans to be protected, and other children too far from the district school for daily attendance. These became a new and dear care to Brother Van.

Again the old pocketbook made a beginning. As the hard-earned money went for the house-cleaning a gift came to Brother Van; a grateful ranchman presented him with a cow. It was driven promptly to the two hundred-and-thirty-five-acre campus which surrounded the neglected building out by Helena, so that the few children he might gather there should be fed. The building, so recently the home of the bats and the coyotes, was cleaned and repaired and put in readiness for its first pupil, a child whom a dying mother committed to the care of Brother Van. Others needing school advantages were found and placed in the renovated building. The title page of the first Annual published by the students of this school of faith is inscribed: “To Brother Van as an expression of love from the class of 1915.”

Not all the time was Brother Van building churches. There are one hundred churches in Montana built by him, and about fifty parsonages due to his labors, besides six hospitals and two large institutions of learning, but there is another piece of work which he has been doing between times for the church he loves. Since 1876 he has represented the Methodist Church of Montana in the denomination’s great governing body, the General Conference. At the meeting at Saratoga Springs in 1916, one evening was given over to the two friends, Dr.Thomas C. Iliff and Brother Van. They recounted the struggles and triumphs of their western life, and sang the old songs which had carried inspiration to the people of the west.

A few years ago Brother Van made a long trip across the country and came again to Gettysburg, where, as a boy, fifty-four years before, he had witnessed that great battle. Alarge part of the land where the battle was fought has been bought by the United States government, and the government and the states spent seven million dollars in erecting the memorials that do honor to the men who fell in those July days of 1863. Brother Van saw again the house in which President Lincoln was entertained when he made that memorable address familiar to-day to every schoolboy and schoolgirl. He recalled how he had gone to seek the sad-faced man. He had come into his presence a towsled, barefoot, awkward boy, and with new appreciation he remembered how that great man had shaken hands with him. Since then other presidents have shaken hands with the boy grown into a missionary. Grant, Roosevelt, and Taft have all done honor to the man so well loved in Montana.