W. B. Godbey - Enter His Rest

he would better follow my advice, saying to him, If you go into this business, you will not succeed. You will
lose your money and be sorry for it when it is too late; you will get into trouble which you do not expect, and
fortune's wheel will certainly revolve against you.” Suffice it to say he gave up his enterprise and went into an
honest employment.
When I was presiding elder thirty-three years ago and found illegal distilleries operating extensively in my
district, as the government licenses were so costly that they were not able to run a registered distillery I went to
work to rid the country of these nuisances. When I was presiding over the Quarterly Conference in Whitesburg,
the county-seat of Letcher Co. and asked the brethren: they told me that there were twenty three illegal
distilleries operating in that county. I said, “Brethren, why do you not notify the government officers so that they
will break them all up as they will certainly do in that case.” They responded, “We dare not do anything of the
kind lest they kill us, for they boldly proclaim that will shoot any man who informs on them. Then as presiding
elder of that district, I felt it my duty to notify the government officers and appeal to them to rid our county of
the awful curse. Consequently I said to the brethren, “I shall certainly report them!” They begged me not to do it
for they did believe those men would kill me. At that time there were no railroads in that mountainous country
and I did all of my traveling on horseback. It was very common for men to be shot by concealed assassins as
they rode through the mountains. That was so early after the Civil War that those feuds which so long survived
in that country were still there. I proceeded at once to write an open letter to the “Mountain Echo,” which was
published in that country, in which I stated that those twenty-three illegal distilleries were operating, much to the
demoralization of the whole country, and that we appealed to the Government to come and take them out. This
letter was quoted by the papers throughout the state, producing a general sensation. But the government nobly
responded, sending soldiers and breaking up all those “moonshine distilleries.” My friends were much excited
for my safety, believing that those men would kill me. They did shoot one of my local preachers in an adjoining
county, while I was in the county, by the hand of a concealed assassin. I had signed my name to the letter I wrote
appealing to the government. This was necessary, as an anonymous one would have imperiled innocent parties,
involving them in jeopardy. Despite the remonstrances of my friends, I went along without missing a single
appointment, solitary and alone, into all of those regions, despite their overt and vociferous threats. Not only
were those whiskey nuisances broken up, but we had glorious, sweeping revivals all over my district, actually
resulting in doubling my membership during my quadrennium.
My last pastoral charge before the bishop got me into evangelistic work for life, was at Carlyle, Nicholas Co.
The Ministerial Temperance Association in that State appointed me superintendent of the force in that county. I
was there three years, meanwhile we organized and pressed the battle in all parts of the county, establishing
local option in every district, except the county-seat. There the whiskey men bought the colored vote and beat us
for a time. One day I was in a large drygoods store, kept by Brothers Mann & Kennedy, both Methodist
preachers, when looking out I saw a fine-looking man riding a splendid horse. Then Brother Mann said to me,
“There comes Captain Buckler, the leader of the whiskey party, worth a hundred thousand dollars, which he has
made on whiskey. He has now thirty thousand dollars' worth in his warehouse, keeping it till it gets old and will
bear a high price.” I said, “Please introduce me to him.” He very politely returned the introduction. I told him
when and where, the Lord willing, I would preach and invited him to come to the meeting, and he promised me
that he would. He lived in the country four miles distant, on a splendid blue-grass farm.
I had a church in that neighborhood. I found him in my congregation quite regularly, as his wife was a member
and he kindly accompanied her. Eventually he invited me to go home with him from a night service. I preached
to him faithfully as we rode side by side along the nice turnpike. Next morning I was sitting in the family room
before I started to meeting and he came and dropped a five dollar bill in my hand, observing, “I am not in the
habit of giving any money to the preachers, but will be obliged if you will take this,” which I did with many
thanks, then turning away, at once looking back he dropped another five dollar bill into my hand. It was not long
till he presented himself as a seeker of salvation and continued in that attitude quite awhile; then during the altar
service in the midst of a glorious revival in the town church, he got up and there boldly testified to personal
salvation, to the delectation [pleasure – DVM] of the large audience who crowded round, joyfully congratulating
him. Of course he utterly went out of the whiskey business, not only falling in with the temperance army but
prophesying that the Prohibition Movement would continue till it swept alcohol from the nation. God in mercy