THE LIBRARY 
 
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 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
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 SKETCHES 
 
 EMINENT METHODIST MINISTERS. 
 
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 llustrations. 
 
 EDITED BY 
 
 JOHN M'CLINTOCK, D. D, 
 
 PUBLISHED BY CARLTON & PHILLIPS. 
 
 200 MULBERRY-STREET. 
 1854.
 
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 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1853, by 
 
 CARLTON & PHILLIPS, 
 
 in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the Southern District of 
 New-York.
 
 BX 
 
 
 r t i a r t. 
 
 THE "age of chivalry" was renewed in its noblest 
 aspects, in the beginnings of Methodism. Its history, 
 especially in America, is a record of moral heroism 
 unsurpassed in any age of the Church. The story is 
 yet unwritten. The historians of the country have 
 
 < generally ignored, in utter blindness, one of the richest 
 
 to 
 
 3 fields open to them ; and the historians of the Church 
 
 have done but little toward a true and ample account 
 Jf 
 
 " of the vast and valorous labours of these modern apos- 
 ties. Every memorial, then, however slight, of the 
 lives and toils of the fathers is at once a blessing to 
 $ the Church, and a contribution to the true history of 
 o the civilization of the age. To this class belong the 
 sketches of Wesley, Fletcher, Garrettson, M'Kendree, 
 Roberts, Pickering, and Hedding, given in this volume. 
 To a later period belong the lives of Fisk, Emory, 
 Levings, and Olin ; but the very names will justify 
 their collocation here with the elder fathers. They are 
 
 44 ?955
 
 4 PREFACE. 
 
 illustrations wonderful illustrations in fact of the 
 vigorous and healthful growth of Methodism ; each of 
 them affording a noble specimen of high intellectual 
 power and large accomplishments devoted, with entire 
 self-denial, to the service of the Church of God. 
 
 One memoir, and only one, of a living person is 
 given : and the name of JABEZ BUNTING, the great 
 leader of English Methodism, will justify that devia- 
 tion from the plan of the volume, if any name could. 
 
 The names of the authors of the sketches are given 
 in the table of contents, except in two instances not 
 left to the editor's discretion. 
 
 Should this volume meet with the favour of the 
 public, it will be followed by another, and perhaps by 
 several, in succeeding years, printed and illustrated in 
 the same beautiful style. 
 
 JOHN M'CLINTOCK. 
 
 NEW-YORK, Oct. 20, 1863.
 
 C 
 
 PAGE 
 
 JOHN WESLEY 9 
 
 BY THE KEY. O. T. DOBBIN, LL. D., HTTLL COLLEGE, ENGLAND. 
 
 WILLIAM M'KENDREE 69 
 
 BY THE BET. B. BT. J. FRY. 
 
 JOHN EMORY 105 
 
 BY JOHN M'CLINTOCK, D. D. 
 
 ROBERT R. ROBERTS 139 
 
 BY J. FLOY, D. D. 
 
 ELIJAH HEDDING 159 
 
 BY THE BET. M. L. BCUDDER, A. M. 
 
 JOHN FLETCHER , 191 
 
 BY THE BEY. J. B. HAGANY, A. M. 
 
 FREEBORN GARRETTSON 223 
 
 WILLBUR FISK 241 
 
 BY BET. PBOFESSOB O. H. TIFFANY, A. M. 
 
 GEORGE PICKERING 263 
 
 BY THB BET. ABEL 8TETEN8, A. M. 
 
 NOAH LEVINGS 275 
 
 BY . "W. CLABK, . D. 
 
 STEPHEN OLIN 317 
 
 BY J. FLOY, D. D. 
 
 JABEZ BUNTING 343 
 
 BY THE BET. ABEL STEVENS, A. M. 
 
 THE OLD NEW-ENGLAND CONFERENCE.... , 361
 
 II n s t rations. 
 
 FACING PAGE 
 
 JOHN WESLEY 1 
 
 EPWORTH CHURCH 18 
 
 EPWORTH RECTORY 19 
 
 CHARTER-HOUSE 21 
 
 OLD FOUNDRY 38 
 
 WESLEY, HAMILTON, AND COLE 62 
 
 (AS SEEN -WALKING IN THE STREETS OP EDINBURGH.) 
 
 WILLIAM M'KENDREE 69 
 
 FIRST METHODIST CHURCH IN OHIO 78 
 
 JOHN EMORY 105 
 
 METHODIST BOOK CONCERN 122 
 
 ROBERT R. ROBERTS 139 
 
 ELIJAH HEDDING 159 
 
 JOHN FLETCHER 191 
 
 MADELEY CHURCH 199 
 
 THE HOUSE IN WHICH FLETCHER WAS BORN. 209 
 
 FREEBORN GARRETTSON 223 
 
 WILLBUR FISK 241 
 
 GEORGE PICKERING 263 
 
 PICKERING'S MANSION 268 
 
 NOAH LEVINGS 275 
 
 STEPHEN OLIN. 317 
 
 JABEZ BUNTING 343 
 
 WESLEYAN THEOLOGICAL INSTITUTE, RICHMOND, ENG 356 
 
 ENTRANCE HALL AND PRINCIPAL STAIRCASE 367 
 
 THE OLD NEW-ENGLAND CONFERENCE.... . 361
 
 The incidents of history and the objects of nature derive 
 much of their impressiveness from the circumstances sur- 
 rounding both. Contrast is essential to grand effects. The 
 massacre at Bethlehem gathers blackness from the infant 
 age of the victims ; and the frantic leap of Niagara con- 
 trasts finely with the oily smoothness of the river above 
 the Fall. The voyager near "earth's central line" the 
 region of perpetual sun and frequent calm, where the 
 surface of the sea is unbroken with a billow, yet the bulk 
 of the ocean moves together like some monster labouring 
 under an oppressive load 
 
 " in torrid clime 
 Dark heaving, boundless, endless, and sublime ;" 
 
 marks the huge sweltering gambols of the whale, and 
 hears the loud hiss and rush of the jet he projects into the 
 air best in the cool gray and death-like stillness of the 
 early dawn. The level and the quiet of all around 
 convey the most vivid and instantaneous impressions to 
 the watcher's eye and ear; and "There is that leviathan!"
 
 10 JOHN WESLEY. 
 
 (Psa. civ, 26,) bursts from the lips with an assurance and a 
 rapture which its unwieldy pas seuls would not awaken 
 amid the stirring activities of day and the distraction of 
 stormier scenes and wilder moods. And having traversed 
 under a burning summer sun the length of some Swiss 
 valley, and encountered in your fatiguing march, knap- 
 sack on shoulder and staff in hand, the varieties of mid- 
 winter temperature by the mer de glace, and the heat of 
 the dog-days in deep, serene, and sheltered nooks, where 
 air to breathe seems almost as great a rarity as wind to 
 blow, where the fumes of the rank vegetation and the wild 
 flowers are stifling and unhealthy, what think you is the 
 fittest time and place to hear the thunder of the avalanche, 
 and trace and tremble at its fall ? It is just at that cool 
 hour when, refreshed at your hostelry, your sense of weari- 
 ness is removed, but sufficient languor remains to tame 
 down your mind into harmony with the scene, and you 
 wander out some half-mile from your temporary home, 
 like the orphan patriarch of old, to meditate at eventide. 
 The sun has just set over the Jungfrau or Schreckhorn, 
 and, liberal of its cosmetics, has laid its red upon the dead 
 cheek of the everlasting snow. There is not a breeze 
 stirring. The brief twilight is just about to close in night. 
 The wing of the last loitering bee has been folded in its 
 hive. The beetle has droned his sonorous vesper-hymn. 
 All is silence, uninterrupted by a sound, except perchance 
 at distant intervals the faint bleat of the goat on the rock 
 high overhead, or the whistle of some shepherd-pipe in the 
 hand of the rustic returning from his labour : 
 
 " For here the patriarchal days 
 Are not a pastoral fable ; pipes in the liberal air 
 Mix with the sweet bells of the sauntering herd."
 
 JOHN WESLEY. 11 
 
 Then on the startled ear, that has been learning wisdom at 
 the feet of silence, bursts a crack, like the sharp instanta- 
 neous report of a rifle, followed and drowned on the 
 moment by a confused rustle, hoarse rumble, and after- 
 ward a heavy thunderous sound of fall and concussion, 
 comparable to nothing so much as the cadence of ten 
 thousand woolpacks dropped together upon a boarden 
 floor. The danger is not near, but the vibrations of the 
 air and the almost breathless hush of the evening make it 
 seem so. A mountain of snow and commingled ice has 
 fallen down some gorge that debouches into our" valley, 
 and a spray of snowy particles, which rises cloudwise into 
 the darkening sky, shows the scene and the nature of the 
 ruinous visitation. The tranquillity of the hour makes the 
 crash more loud, the devastation more appalling. Amid 
 lightning, tempest, and thunder, the chief effect had been 
 lost the avalanche had been unnoticed the crown of 
 majesty had fallen unheeded from the monarch moun- 
 tain's head. 
 
 A phenomenon with like effect, appealing to a different 
 sense, will show itself in other scenes. As the traveller 
 approaches Rome from the south, leaving Naples with its 
 charms and its cheats, its lazzaroni and its liveliness, its 
 exquisite sky and sea, with its execrable superstition, dirt, 
 and frivolty behind; but notwithstanding all its draw- 
 backs, where 
 
 " Simply to feel that we breathe, that we live, 
 
 Is worth all the joys that life elsewhere can give," 
 
 and passing the sounding sea and the dismal marsh, lofty 
 Terracina and lowly Fondi, at length tops the range that 
 encloses the Campagna southward, what object is it chiefly
 
 12 JOHN WESLEY. 
 
 arrests the eye ? In that great ocean of a plain, a hundred 
 miles by fifty, the seeming crater of some gigantic volcano, 
 with its sulphur streams and its noisome stenches, like a 
 bark upon the waters, floats imperial Eome, the object 
 most conspicuous in the eternal city the wondrous cupola, 
 which speaks her the queen of architectural grandeur, 
 resting like a diadem upon her brow, and bearing no 
 remote resemblance to the tiara of her pontiff ruler; 
 nothing besides can arrest the gaze. The eye takes in, in 
 its sweep, the mountain line of the northern and eastern 
 horizon, Soracte, empurpled by distance, with its sister 
 ridges on the right, the silver sea with Ostia on the left. 
 It marks the ruins that here and there stud the plain -the 
 tombs, the towns, the towers, the arches, and the aque- 
 ducts, the long reaches of which last stretch in picturesque 
 continuity here and there, like a caravan of mules wind- 
 ing over the sierras of Granada. We stand on the brow 
 of Albano, sheltering ourselves from the midday sun under 
 the shade of some broad plane-tree, or luxuriant elm, or 
 embowering vine, and see we cannot but see the tomb 
 of Pompey, the ruins of Bovillse, Frattochie, Torre di 
 Mezza Yia, perhaps even Metella's tomb, and catch 
 glimpses now and then of the unequalled Yia Appia, its 
 geometrical rectitude in striking contrast with the ser- 
 pentining Tiber; but above all, and beyond all, we look 
 upon that group in the centre of the picture, that lone 
 mother of dead empires, "the Mobe of nations" Eome. 
 All objects besides are unattractive; the mountains too 
 distant, the ruins too bare, the wild flowers of this huge 
 prairie too minute and commonplace for special attention; 
 all things near the soil, too, quiver in the dazzling light 
 and burning heat of noon ; but high above the undulating
 
 JOHN WESLEY. 13 
 
 vapour, and towering in its Parian whiteness up into an 
 angelic sky, rises the colossal creation of Buonarotti's 
 genius. "We glance at other objects; we gaze at this. It 
 breaks the line of our northern horizon with a pomp and 
 pretension that nothing besides can dare. It looms out of 
 the bosom of the "weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable" 
 foreground, a pleasant and most exciting landmark, an 
 ecclesiastical Eddystone in the unbillowy sea of the Cam- 
 pagna. This greatest of man's works, which would be 
 insignificant beside the works of God the Alps or the 
 nearer Apennines is here great, comparatively so, just as 
 a man of five feet stature would be a giant among Lilli- 
 putians of one. We speak not of its moral interest that 
 is superlative and enchaining; but of its material inches, 
 whereby it overtops almost every object within a circuit 
 of twenty miles. Look from any extremity of the Cam- 
 pagna to the centre, and St. Peter's, like a stone Saul, 
 over-measures all competing altitudes by the head and 
 lofty shoulders. 
 
 And this brings us, by a roundabout way possibly, to 
 the point at which we aim a comparative estimate of tlie 
 greatness of John Wesley by the littleness of the times in 
 which he lived. Our purpose has been too obvious, we 
 trust, to need the application of our figures. We mean 
 simply to imply that Wesley was that waterspout and 
 snowy spray-jet, roaring in the stillness of morning, and 
 arched over the calm surface of the sea on the gray can- 
 vass of the horizon ; Wesley that ice-crash rasping down 
 the mountain-side, startling the ear of silence in Helvetian 
 solitudes, upsetting the equilibrium of all things, shaking 
 the earth and air and the listener's frame, like the spasm 
 of an earthquake ; Wesley, in fine, that dome, " the vast
 
 14 JOHN WESLEY. 
 
 and wondrous dome," lofty in proportions, perfect in sym- 
 metry, suspended in mid-air, by the happy conception of 
 him whose great thought, like all great thoughts, was 
 manifestly inspired, "a heavenly guest, a ray of immor- 
 tality," and which aerial pile, wander where we will within 
 its range, is the attracting centre of vision, the cynosure of 
 all eyes. 
 
 In the particular field Wesley took upon him to culti- 
 vate he stood alone, or almost alone, and his position adds 
 magnitude to all his dimensions. He fills the picture. It 
 were scarce exaggeration to travesty the Grand Louis's 
 terse egotism, "The State! that is, I," and put it into our 
 reformer's mouth at the commencement of his career 
 " Keligion ! that is, I." The religious sensibility of Eng- 
 land lay dead or chained in "the breathless, hushed, and 
 stony sleep" of the Princess Dormita and her retinue in 
 the fairy tale. He alone seemed awake to the exigencies 
 of the times, the responsibilities of the ministry, the cor- 
 ruption of manners, and the value of souls. This state- 
 ment will of course be understood with all the qualifica- 
 tion truth demands on behalf of some exemplary parish 
 clergymen who sparsely enlightened the darkness around 
 them, but who never passed into the broad sunshine of 
 general reputation or extensive influence. There were 
 those, we gladly own, who bowed not the knee to the 
 prevailing dissoluteness or indifference; but, like angels' 
 visits, these were few and far between. And it is not to 
 be denied that in many non-conformist places of worship, 
 under the combined influence of the persecutions of earlier 
 years, general contempt, and their close-borough constitu- 
 tion and government which took them out of the healthful 
 and conservative current of public opinion, vital religion
 
 JOHN WESLEY. 15 
 
 was becoming a name, and the doctrine of the Cross pass- 
 ing into "another gospel" in which the Cross had no 
 place. Arianism, with stealthy steps, was creeping in 
 upon the fold of Presbyterianism " for to steal, and to kill, 
 and to destroy ;" while Independency either withered into 
 a cold protest against the established episcopacy, shot into 
 seed in the unhealthy luxuriance of hyper-Calvinism, or 
 was too insignificant to be of any account whatever in an 
 ecclesiastical notice of the period. 
 
 The general condition of the Church of England was 
 deplorable. There was no lack of learning and respecta- 
 bility in many quarters, but, as a whole, its state could not 
 satisfy a conscientious observer. The study of the Greek 
 language and the introduction of the theology of the Greek 
 school since the Reformation, together \tith various politi- 
 cal causes, had combined to produce a latitudinarian and 
 moderated style of preaching and acting among the 
 clergy at large. The best men were most entirely under 
 the influences we have named. Their learning, their 
 enlightened hatred of the fanaticism under the common- 
 wealth, and an honourable sense of the advantages of 
 their position, made them carefully shun the excesses of 
 non-conforming zeal, and generously avoid giving offence 
 to conscientious dissenters. The names of Tillotson and 
 Tennison, Doctors Samuel Clark and Jortin, will tolerably 
 fairly represent the reigning spirit of the better part of the 
 clerical body about the commencement of the eighteenth 
 century; while others were contented to be as devoid of 
 evangelical unction as they, without their accomplish- 
 ments and decent behaviour. But in the ministry of 
 souls moderation is madness, and want of zeal death. 
 Men betake themselves to a formal minister as they do to
 
 16 JOHN WESLEY. 
 
 the grave-digger, an inevitable but unpleasant functionary, 
 whose services they never relish, and whose inane morali- 
 ties cannot edify. Such, unfortunately, was the ecclesias- 
 tical condition of England when the Wesleys arose, and it 
 is no breach of charity to aver, that, weighed in the 
 balances of heaven, the existing ministry throughout the 
 country was found at that period, as to its most exalted 
 aims and divine results, utterly wanting. We are not 
 blind to the subordinate advantages a widely-established 
 corporation of more or less educated men must entail 
 upon a land, men by their profession the friends of order, 
 decency, and humanity ; but at the same time we cannot 
 forget that the Church is neither a police-court, a philo- 
 sophical school, nor an almonry. Men may be mild 
 magistrates, wiseteachers, exemplary country gentlemen, 
 without fear and without reproach on the score of morals 
 and manners, and yet be destitute of the spirit of their 
 office and ignorant of its claims. We draw the veil over 
 anything worse which presents itself for comment in the 
 clerical profession at that period. There was enough in 
 the aspect of the times, even upon the most indulgent 
 showing, to make the mission of some such agent as John 
 Wesley a necessity as imperative as the mission of one of 
 the judges in the straits and abjectness of Israel, or the 
 requisitions of the economic law that the demand regu- 
 lates the supply. 
 
 In such circumstances was Providence nurturing a man 
 for the hour, while the hour was as divinely and obviously 
 prepared for the man. And neither from kingly courts 
 nor cloistered cells was the hero of " this strange eventful 
 history" to come the man that was to work wider change 
 upon the religious and social aspect of England than has
 
 JOHN WESLEY. 17 
 
 ever been effected by any reformer since Christianity 
 visited our shores. In truth, his sympathies were neither 
 with the monk nor the monarch, but, a child of the peo- 
 ple, as all great reformers have been, his sympathies were 
 with the masses, the men from whom he sprung. He 
 was reared amid obscurity, poverty, and rebuke, rebuke 
 that implied no disgrace, poverty which piety hallowed, 
 obscurity that bred no discontent, and he never forgot the 
 discipline of his childhood nor the tradition of his poor but 
 godly parentage, and his heart ever found its most genial 
 soil amid the humble, holy, and enduring people of God. 
 Of ambition, with which he has been most recklessly 
 charged, he seems to have been absolutely incapable, 
 except the ambition of doing good. He had rather suffer 
 any day than shine. In fact, to suffer, if by that be meant 
 to labour to fatigue, and self-denial to austerity, became a 
 necessity of his nature, while to shine was as deliberately 
 rejected as this was pursued. And it was this thorough 
 oneness of mind, propension, and condition with the peo- 
 ple, which prompted and controlled his career. He looked 
 at the man through the frieze-jacket of careful thrift and 
 " the looped and windowed raggedness" of abject penury; 
 yea, he looked at him in the haunts of vice and the prison- 
 house of the criminal, and saw written upon him even 
 there, in indubitable presence, the image, though sorely 
 mutilated, of God, just as beneath the jewelled cap of 
 maintenance and the purple of nobility he saw no more. 
 Not knowing, therefore, or not heeding the distinctions 
 that obtain among men, the object of his ministry was 
 man. He was swayed by no class predilections, or unso- 
 cial partialities, save that his high sense of duty and the 
 special demands of his mission made him prevailingly the 
 
 2
 
 18 JOHN WESLEY. 
 
 friend of the friendless and the comforter of the lowly. 
 In this aspect of his work his imitation of Christ was pre- 
 eminent, that his labour of love was specially consecrated 
 " to seek and to save that which was lost." 
 
 But we anticipate, and must glance at the boy Wesley, 
 and the circumstances which proved the Campus Martius 
 to train him for his lifelong conflict " with the rulers of 
 the darkness of this world, with spiritual wickedness in 
 high places." 
 
 Close bordering on the winding Trent, in one of the 
 richest portions of Lincolnshire, is the parish and manor 
 of Ep worth, the church standing upon an elevation reached 
 by a gentle ascent about four miles from the river, but 
 shaded from view by a shoulder of the hill. Right well 
 do we remember our pilgrimage to that spot a few short 
 months ago. The heavens smiled propitiously on our pur- 
 pose, for never did a brighter spring sun pour gladness 
 into the heart than that which shone upon us as we crept 
 blithely along the road that gradually swept up from the 
 ferry. Our sensations we will not attempt to describe, as 
 'we paced the pathway of the quiet old country town, 
 where the first relic we picked up was the characteristic 
 one of a torn page of the New Testament. Suffice it to 
 say, that it was with more than common emotion we 
 looked upon the font where the man whose genius made 
 the celebrity of the place had been baptized ; upon the 
 communion table where Wesley had often officiated, yet 
 whence he had been rudely repulsed by an intemperate 
 and ungrateful priest, who had owed his all to the Wes- 
 leys ; on the tombstone of his father, which on that occa- 
 sion and subsequently served the itinerant John for a 
 pulpit, from which he addressed weeping multitudes in
 
 JOHN WESLEY. 19 
 
 the churchyard ; on the withered sycamore beneath whose 
 shade he must have played; and finally, through the 
 courtesy of the rector, the Hon. and Rev. Charles Dundas, 
 on the parsonage, now scarcely recognisable for the same 
 from the improvement it has received at the hand of 
 wealth guided by the eye of taste, though old Jeffrey's 
 room still retains much of its ghostliness. The day that 
 revealed to us all these and sundry memorabilities is one 
 to be noted with chalk in our calendar. 
 
 The lower ground of the isle of Axholme, in the midst 
 of which Epworth stands, had from time immemorial been 
 subject to almost constant submersion from the river, and 
 was little better than a Mere, the title Leland gives it in 
 his Itinerary. Its value, however, was so obvious to the 
 eyes of both natives and foreigners, that a charter to drain 
 this whole country side was given to Cornelius Yermuy- 
 den in the time of the Stuarts, and the thing was done, to 
 the rescue of a considerable part of the king's chase from 
 the dominion of the lawless waters, and to the increase of 
 the arable and pasture land of the neighbourhood, to the 
 extent of many thousand acres of "a fine rich brown loam, 
 than which there is none more fertile in England." To 
 this parish the father of our hero was presented in the 
 year 1693, as a reward for his merits in defending from 
 the press the Revolution of 1688. The living was of 
 inconsiderable amount, under 200 per annum, but by no 
 means contemptible to a waiter upon Providence, whose 
 clerical income had never before averaged 50 per year, 
 and was the more agreeable as it promised to lead to 
 something better, since the ground of his present advance- 
 ment was the recognition in high places of the opportune 
 loyalty of the literary parson. Here, with a regularly
 
 20 JOHN WESLEY. 
 
 increasing family, without any corresponding increase of 
 stipend, the exemplary rector laboured for ten years ere 
 the birth of his son John, " contending with low wants 
 and lofty will," with the dislike and opposition of his 
 unruly parishioners, with his own chafed tempers and 
 disappointed expectations, with serious inroads upon his 
 income by fire and flood, and with the drag-chain of a 
 poverty that pressed upon the means of subsistence, and 
 which his literary labours availed little to lighten. 
 
 Our sympathies gather round the "busy bee" whose 
 active industry and zeal could not shield his hive from 
 spoliation and misfortune, while many a contemporary 
 drone surfeited in abundance, and wore out a useless life 
 in luxury, self-indulgence, and criminal ease. Ere his son 
 John, the future father of Methodism, had completed his 
 third year, the rector of Ep worth was in jail for debt. 
 The exasperation of party, which he took no means to 
 allay, but rather chafed and provoked, for he gloried in 
 his "Church and State politics," being "sufficiently ele- 
 vated" brought down upon him the unmanly vengeance 
 of his creditors, and they spited their political opponent 
 by throwing him into prison. This affliction brought him 
 friends, who succeeded in procuring his release after an 
 incarceration of some months, but neither enlarged his 
 resources nor increased liis prudence. He seems to have 
 been a stem if a faithful pastor, and when called to 
 encounter prejudices, to have met them with prejudices 
 as virulent of his own. 
 
 Into such a home as all this bespeaks, needy but not 
 sordid, poverty-stricken yet garnished by high principle 
 and dogged resolution, full of anxieties for temporal pro- 
 vision, yet free from the discontent that dishonours God,
 
 JOHN WESLEY. 21 
 
 was John Wesley ushered, on the 17th of June, 1703. 
 For all that made the comfort of that home, the joy of 
 his childhood and the glory of his riper years, the great 
 reformer was indebted to his mother ; as who, that is ever 
 great or good, is not ? 
 
 Never was child more fortunate in a maternal guide 
 than young Wesley, and never could mother claim more 
 exclusively the credit of her son's early training. At 
 eleven years of age he left home for the Charterhouse- 
 school, but up to that period he was educated by his 
 mother. Literary composition, correspondence, and paro- 
 chial and secular duties fully employed his father; but 
 amid the domestic cares of fifteen living children, his 
 pious and gifted mother found time to devote six hours 
 daily to the education of her family. 
 
 Passing from under the tutelage of his accomplished 
 mother, young Wesley became at the Charterhouse a 
 sedate, quiet, and industrious pupil. The regularity of 
 system which characterized the man was even then visible 
 in the boy, taking his methodical race round the garden 
 thrice every morning. His excellent habits were rewarded 
 by the esteem of his masters, and his election six years 
 afterward to Christ's Church College, Oxford. At the 
 University he maintained the reputation for scholarship 
 acquired at school, and ere long was chosen a Fellow of 
 Lincoln, and appointed Greek Lecturer and Moderator of 
 the Classes to the University. And here properly begins 
 the religious life of the young reformer. Prior to his 
 ordination, which took place in 1725, he had devoted him- 
 self to such a course of reading as he considered most 
 likely to conduce to his spiritual benefit, and qualify him 
 for his sacred office. Upon the mind of one so religiously
 
 22 JOHN WESLEY. 
 
 and orderly brought up, the Ascetic Treatises of Thomas a 
 Kempis, and Taylor's Holy Living cmd Dying, would 
 naturally make a deep impression, the more as their ear- 
 nest strain would contrast so favourably with the epicurean 
 insouciance, or the stolid fatalism of his classic favourites. 
 The highest effort of Pagan heroism and philosophy was 
 to invite then- dead to the feast and orgie, and mock at 
 death by crowning him with flowers, while of all the 
 sublimer objects of life they were as ignorant as to its 
 more serious duties they were unequal. Surfeited with 
 their dainties which he had relished as a child, when he 
 became a man he put away childish things with the loath- 
 ing of a matured and higher taste. Assistant to his father 
 for two years in the adjacent living of Wroote, and 
 engaged thus in the actualities of the ministry, his soul 
 found more and more occasion for self-examination, self- 
 renunciation, and devotion to the solemn work of his call- 
 ing. Impressions deepened upon his mind which could 
 not fail to issue in great good to the Church of Christ, 
 impressions made by his temper of body, early training, 
 and the studies and duties of his vocation. His views 
 were very imperfect of the doctrines of grace, but his 
 heart was undergoing that process of preparation for their 
 full disclosure and ready reception which might be resem- 
 bled to turning up the fallow ground. He was not far 
 from the kingdom of God. "While the young clergyman 
 was engaged in the searchings of heart attendant upon his 
 early experience, and was prosecuting the labours of his 
 country cure, God was maturing at Oxford a system of 
 events which was to issue in the result he sought light 
 to the understanding, peace to the conscience, purity to 
 the life, and an assured sense of the divine forgiveness.
 
 JOHN WESLEY. 23 
 
 Charles Wesley, the younger brother, during John's two 
 years' absence on his cure, seemed to have waked all at 
 once from the religious apathy of his under-graduate 
 course, and falling in with two or three young men of 
 kindred feelings with his own, they associated for mutual 
 improvement and religious exercises. They received the 
 sacrament weekly, and practised certain very obvious but 
 very unusual austerities in regard to food, raiment, and 
 amusements, quite sufficient to draw upon them general 
 observation. The world, which has a keen sense of the 
 ridiculous, saw in all this only oddity and folly, and in 
 sooth it is no necessary adjunct of real religion perhaps 
 thought it something still less worthy of respect hypoc- 
 risy, and love of notoriety. But observers could have 
 borne even with these defects better than with what they 
 found in the enthusiastic objects of their dislike earnest 
 practical godliness, which intimidation could not daunt 
 nor ridicule shame. They gave these parties, therefore, 
 the names of Sacramentarians, Bible-bigots, Bible-moths, 
 the Holy, and the Godly Club. But, from the orderly 
 method of their life, the name Methodists, that of an 
 ancient sect of physicians, gradually stuck to the latter 
 party, one not altogether new in its applications to religion 
 any more than the Puritans (Cathari) of an earlier date. 
 This title they neither sought nor shunned. If it gave no 
 glory, it implied little reproach. But they justified their 
 religious views by the practical value of their measures. 
 They could appeal to their works as their best vindication. 
 Their acquittal were triumphant were the tree of their 
 profession judged by its fruits. We know not where, out 
 of the Gospels, a more successful appeal is made in favour 
 of practical godliness, the religion of good sense and good
 
 24: JOHN WESLEY. 
 
 works, than in the document we are about to submit to our 
 readers. Never was there less enthusiasm, fanaticism, 
 rant, (O si sic omnia /) in any page of letter-pressnever 
 more convincing ratiocination, more clear exposition of 
 duty, than in its dozen quiet interrogations. 
 
 " Whether it does not concern all men, of all conditions, 
 to imitate Him, as much as they can, who went about 
 doing good? 
 
 " "Whether all Christians are not concerned in that com- 
 mand, "While we have time let us do good unto all men, 
 especially to those who are of the household of faith ? 
 
 ""Whether we shall not be more happy hereafter the 
 more good we do now? 
 
 ""Whether we may not try to do good to our acquaint- 
 ance among the young gentlemen of the university ? 
 
 "Particularly whether we may not endeavour to con- 
 vince them of the necessity of being Christians and of 
 being scholars? 
 
 " May we not try to do good to those that are hungry, 
 or naked, or sick? If we know any necessitous family, 
 may we not give them a little food, clothes, or physic, as 
 they want ? 
 
 " If they can read, may we not give them a Bible or 
 a Prayer-Book, or a Whole Duty of Man? May we 
 not inquire now and then how they have used them, 
 explain what they do not understand, and enforce what 
 they do ? 
 
 "May we not enforce upon them the necessity of 
 private prayer, and of frequenting the church and sac- 
 rament ? 
 
 "May we not contribute what we are able toward 
 having their children clothed and taught to read ?
 
 JOHN WESLEY. 25 
 
 "May we not try to do good to those who are in prison? 
 
 "May we not release such well disposed persons as 
 remain in prison for small debts? 
 
 "May we not lend small sums of money to those who 
 are of any trade, that they may procure themselves tools 
 and materials to work with? 
 
 " May we not give to them who appear to want it most 
 a little money, or clothes, or physic?" 
 
 Such is their apology a probe for the conscience, which 
 searches the latent wound, but only searches to heal a 
 promptuary of every good word and work a brief but 
 weighty preface to a life of labour and of love a whole 
 library of folio divinity in small the casuistry of an 
 honest and good heart resolved in a handful of questions 
 the law that came by Moses, clothed in the inimitable 
 grace and truth that came by Jesus Christ a most Holy 
 Inquisition of which no brotherhood need be ashamed 
 the beatitudes of our Lord charged home, and chambered 
 in the heart by the impulse of an earnest query a thema 
 con vwiasione, making melody in the heart unto the Lord 
 while breathing deep-toned benevolence toward man. If 
 ever Church originated in an unexceptionable source it 
 was this. If ever one could challenge its foundation as 
 resting on the apostles and prophets, Jesus Christ himself 
 being the chief corner-stone, it was this. If ever Church 
 was cradled, as its Lord was cradled, in supreme glory to 
 God and good will to man if ever Church at its birth 
 was an incarnation of the first and chief commandment, 
 charity, the sum and end of the law, it was this Church. 
 This is more than can be said of any of the great moral 
 revolutions of the world. Almost all the more remarka- 
 ble changes in human opinion, the truths as well as the
 
 26 JOHN WESLEY. 
 
 errors, have been mixed with a considerable alloy of 
 human infirmity in their origin and conduct. Envy and 
 selfishness, and pride and ambition, have shown themselves 
 in various degrees, as moving powers in the world of 
 thought and religion, and though the results under divine 
 superintendence have been overruled to good, the process 
 has been faulty. "We cannot say, for we do not believe, 
 that there was not much of human passion at the bottom 
 of the indignant Luther's breach with Some, while ingen- 
 uous Protestantism must blush over the sensuality and 
 cruelty of Henry YIIE. Even the self-denying non-con- 
 formists do not show so bright, when we reflect that the 
 majority of them, in closing their ministry in the Church 
 on St. Bartholomew's day, did never perhaps belong to 
 what is popularly called the Church of England, nor 
 object so much to the imposition of a particular prayer- 
 book, as to any prayer-book at all, being in fact Presby- 
 terians and Independents. But here, alike free from the 
 infirmities of Aletharch, or Heresiarch, free from selfish 
 aim or end, unfraught with doctrinal pride, uninflated by 
 youthful presumption, a few good men go forth, a second 
 college of apostles, ordained with a like ordination, having 
 the unction of the Holy One, and charged with the same 
 divine mission, " to seek and to save that which was lost," 
 freely receiving from heaven, and freely giving in return. 
 Language and imagery would fail us in depicting sooner 
 than our soul cease from admiring the purity and sub- 
 limity of the object these compassionate men sought by 
 their personal consecration, their visits of mercy, and 
 their prayers: 
 
 " I can't describe it though so much it strike, 
 Nor liken it I never saw the like."
 
 JOHN WESLEY. 
 
 Looking down, like the divine humanity of the Son of 
 God from the height of his priestly throne, far above 
 every feeling save that of sorrow for the sufferings and 
 sins of men, their eyes suffused with pitiful tears, and they 
 resolved to do what they could. Suffice it to say, that, 
 baptized in such a laver as this, the Methodist Church, 
 which has since attained a respectable maturity, has never 
 renounced the principles that hallowed its early dedica- 
 tion, has kept the whiteness of its garments unsullied by 
 the pollutions of the world, has raised visibly everywhere 
 the banner of mercy to the bodies and souls of men, and 
 can say still, as it professed then, "I am free from the 
 blood of all men." 
 
 John Wesley will be found to have given currency by 
 his course of action to a set of divine ideas easily acted 
 upon, but not always clearly apprehended, which make 
 up the sum of personal religion, and without which, it 
 may be added, personal religion cannot exist. This is the 
 philosophy of his career, perhaps very imperfectly under- 
 stood by himself, probably never drawn out by him in a 
 systematic form, yet sufficiently obvious to us who look 
 back upon his completed life, and live amid the results of 
 his labours. Immersed in the complexities of the game, 
 the turmoil of the storm in which his busy life was cast, 
 the unceasing struggle of his soul with the gigantic evils 
 of the world, he could neither observe nor analyze, as we 
 can do, the elements arrayed against him, nor the princi- 
 ples evolved in the conflict that were ministrant to his 
 success. As we are in the habit of raising instinctively 
 the arm, or lowering the eyelid to repel or shun danger, 
 so he adopted measures and evolved truths by force of 
 circumstances more than by forethought, those truths and
 
 28 JOHN WESLEY. 
 
 measures so adapted to his position as a preacher of right- 
 eousness amid an opposing generation, that we recognise 
 in their adaptation and natural evolution proof of their 
 divineness. They are the same truths which were exhib- 
 ited in the first struggles of an infant Christianity with 
 the serpent of Paganism, and when exhibited again upon 
 a like arena seventeen centuries afterward, with similar 
 success, are thus proved to be everywhere and always the 
 same, eternal as abstract truth, and essential as the exist- 
 ence of God. 
 
 The first grand truth thrown up upon the surface of 
 John Wesley's career, we take to be the absolute necessity 
 of personal and individual religion. 
 
 To the yoke of this necessity he himself bowed at every 
 period of his history : never even when most completely 
 led astray as to the ground of the sinner's justification 
 before God, did he fail to recognise the necessity of con- 
 version and individual subjection to the laws of the Most 
 High. "What he required of others, and constantly taught, 
 he cheerfully observed himself. Yery soon after starting 
 upon his course did he learn that the laver of baptism was 
 unavailing to wash from the stain of human defilement, 
 the supper of the Lord to secure admission to the marriage 
 supper of the Lamb, and Church organization to draft men 
 collectively to heaven by simple virtue of its corporate 
 existence. These delusions, whereby souls are beguiled to 
 their eternal wrong, soon ceased to juggle him, for his eye, 
 kindled to intelligence by the Spirit of God, pierced the 
 transparent cheat. He ascertained at a very early period 
 that the Church had no delegated power to ticket men in 
 companies for a celestial journey, and sweep them rail- 
 road-wise in multitudes to their goal; consequently that
 
 JOHN WESLEY. 29 
 
 this power, where claimed or conceded, was usurpation on 
 the one hand, and a compound of credulousness and ser- 
 vility on the other, insulting to God and degrading to man. 
 But he began with himself. We suppose he never knew 
 the hour in which he did not feel the need of personal 
 religion to secure the salvation of the soul. He was hap- 
 pily circumstanced in being the son of pious and intelli- 
 gent parents, who would carefully guard him against the 
 prevalent errors on these points. He never could have 
 believed presentation at the font to be salvation, nor the 
 vicarious vow of sponsors a substitute for personal renun- 
 ciation of the world, the flesh, and the devil: and he 
 early showed this. When the time of his ordination drew 
 nigh, and he was about to be inducted into the cure of 
 souls, he was visited with great searchings of heart. His 
 views of the mode of the sinner's acceptance with God 
 were confused indeed ; but on the subject of personal con- 
 secration they may be said never to have varied. Fight- 
 ing his way, as he was called to do, through a lengthened 
 period of experimental obscurity, " working out his salva- 
 tion with fear and trembling," we nevertheless cannot 
 point to any moment in his spiritual history in which he 
 was not a child of God. What an incomparable mother 
 must he have had ! what a hold must she have established 
 upon his esteem and confidence, to whom this fellow of a 
 college referred his scruples and diificulties in view of his 
 ordination, and whom his scholarly father bade him con- 
 sult when his own studious habits and abundant occupa- 
 tions forbade correspondence with himself! Animated to 
 religious feeling about this time, he made a surrender of 
 himself to God, made in partial ignorance, but never 
 revoked. " I resolved," he says, " to dedicate all my life
 
 30 JOHN WESLEY. 
 
 to .God, all my thoughts, and words, and actions ; being 
 thoroughly convinced there was no medium; but that 
 every pa/rt of my life (not some only) must either be a 
 sacrifice to God or myself, that is, in effect, to the devil." 
 And his pious father, seconding his son's resolve, replies : 
 " God fit you for your great work ! fast, watch, and pray ! 
 believe, love, endure, and be happy!" And so he did 
 according to his knowledge, for a more conscientious cler- 
 gyman and teacher, for the space of ten years, never lived 
 than the Rev. John Wesley, fellow and tutor of Lincoln. 
 But there was a whole world of spiritual experience yet 
 untrodden by him amid the round of his college duties, 
 ascetic practices, and abounding charities. His heart told 
 him, and books told him, and the little godly company who 
 met in his rooms all told him, in tones more or less distinct, 
 that he had not yet attained that he was still short of the 
 mark that the joys of religion escaped his reach, though 
 its duties were unexceptionably performed. His course of 
 reading, the mystic and ascetic writers, together with the 
 dry* scholastic divinity that furnishes the understanding 
 but often drains the heart, tended to this result, to fill the 
 life with holy exercises rather than to overflow the soul 
 with sacred pleasure. Of the simple, ardent, gladsome, 
 gracious piety of the poor, he yet knew next to nothing. 
 
 Our censure of the scholastic divinity only reaches to the case in hand, 
 as among our favourite authors we reckon Thomas Aquinas, and the 
 Master of the Sentences. We are glad to be able to justify our partiality 
 by such respectable authority as that of Luther. In his book De Conciliis, 
 (torn, vii, p. 237,) he writes thus of Peter Lombard: "Nullis in conciliis, 
 nullo in patre tantum reperies, quam in libro sententiarum Lombardi. 
 Nam patres et concilia quosdam tantum articulos tractant, Lombardua 
 autem omnes; sed in prsecipuis illis articulis de Fide et Justificatione 
 nimis est jejunus, quanquam Dei gratiam magnopere praedicat."
 
 JOHN WESLEY. 31 
 
 But God was leading him through the wilderness of such 
 an experience as this by a right way to a city of habita- 
 tion, doubtless that he might be a wise instructor to others 
 who should be involved hereafter in mazes like his own. 
 He looked upon religion as a debt due by the creature to 
 the Creator, and he paid it with the same sense of con- 
 straint with which one pays a debt, instead of regarding it 
 as the ready service of a child of God. A child of God 
 could not be other than religious ; but, more than this, he 
 would not if he could ; religion is his 
 
 " vital breath, 
 It is his native air." 
 
 But Wesley did not understand as yet the doctrine of free 
 pardon, the new birth, and the life of faith : he therefore 
 worked, conscientiously and laboriously indeed, but like a 
 slave in chains. But he was not too proud to learn from 
 very humble teachers, a few Moravian emigrants that 
 sailed in the same vessel with him to Georgia. Their 
 unaffected humility, unruffled good temper, and serenest 
 self-possession in prospect of death when storms overtook 
 the ship, struck him forcibly, and made him feel that they 
 had reached an eminence in the divine life on which his 
 college studies, extensive erudition, and pains-taking devo- 
 tion had failed to land himself. He therefore sat himself 
 at their feet; he verified the Scripture metaphor, and 
 became " a little child." In nothing was the lofty wisdom 
 of John Wesley and his submission to divine teaching 
 more apparent than in this, that he made himself a fool 
 that he might be wise. Salvation by grace, and the wit- 
 ness of the Spirit, were taught him by these God-fearing 
 and happy Moravians ; and his understanding became full
 
 32 JOHN WESLEY. 
 
 of light. It was only, however, some three years after- 
 ward, subsequent to his return to England, that the joy of 
 this free, present, eternal salvation flowed in upon his soul. 
 The peace of God which passeth all understanding took 
 possession of heart and mind through Christ Jesus, and 
 for fifty years afterward he never doubted, he never 
 could doubt, of his acceptance with our Father who is in 
 heaven. The sunshine of his soul communicated itself 
 to his countenance, and lighted all his conversation. To 
 speak with him was to speak with an angel of God. 
 
 From that time he began to preach a new doctrine, a 
 doctrine of privilege as well as duty, of acceptance through 
 the Beloved, and assured sense of pardon, and the happi- 
 ness of the service of God. And God gave him unlooked 
 for, unhoped for success. Excluded by almost universal 
 consent from the churches of the Establishment, he betook 
 himself to barns, and stable-yards, and inn rooms; and 
 ultimately, with Whitefield, to the open air, in the streets 
 and lanes of the city, in the hills and valleys, on the com- 
 mons and heaths, and with power and unction, with the 
 Holy Ghost and much assurance did he testify to each of 
 his hearers the doctrine of personal repentance and faith, 
 the necessity of the new birth for the salvation of the soul. 
 And signs and wonders followed in them that believed : 
 multitudes were smitten to the ground under the sword 
 of the Spirit; many a congregation was changed into a 
 Bochim, a place of weeping; and amid sobs, and tears, 
 and waitings, beneath which the hearts of the most stub- 
 born sinners quailed, one universal cry arose, "What 
 must we do to be saved?" John "Wesley's divine simple 
 Scriptural answer was, " Believe in the Lord Jesus Christ 
 and thou shalt be saved."
 
 JOHN WESLEY. 33 
 
 His personal experience of the efficacy of the prescrip- 
 tion gave confidence to his advice. The physician had 
 been healed himself first: he had been his own earliest 
 patient : he knew the bitterness of the pain, the virulence 
 of the disease, and he had proved the sanative power of 
 \ his remedy. The ordeal of the new birth he had tried 
 before he recommended it to others. He had visited the 
 pool of Bethesda, and could therefore speak well of its 
 waters. 
 
 And well might it work such change to have the neces- 
 sity of personal religion insisted upon with such unprece- 
 dented particularity and pointedness. He singled out each 
 hearer; he allowed no evasion amid the multitude; he 
 showed how salvation was not by a Church, nor by fami- 
 lies, nor by ministers, nor by ordinances, nor by national 
 communions, but by a deep singular individual experience 
 of religion in the soul. His address was framed upon the 
 model of the Scripture query, "Dost thou believe upon 
 the Son of God?" 
 
 A second truth developed in the ministry of John Wes- 
 ley, is the absolute need of spiritual influence to secure the 
 conversion of the soul. Conversion is not a question of 
 willing or not willing on the part of man : the soul bears 
 no resemblance to the muscles of the healthy arm, which 
 the mere will to straighten and stiffen throws into a state 
 of rigid tension at the instant, and retains them so at 
 pleasure. The soul is in the craze and wreck of paralysis : 
 the power of action does not respond to the will: the 
 whole head is sick, the heart faint. To will is present 
 with us, but how to perform that which is good we know 
 not. The sick man would be well, but the wish is unavail- 
 ing till the simple, the leech, and the blessing of the Most 
 
 3
 
 34 JOHN WESLEY. 
 
 High conspire, to invigorate. Just so is it with the soul ; 
 it must tarry till it be endued with power from on high, 
 but not, be it understood, in the torpor of apathy, nor in 
 the slough of despair ; no, but wishing, watching, waiting. 
 Though its search were as fruitless as that of Diogenes, it 
 must be seeking nevertheless, just as, though the prophet's 
 commission be to preach to the dead, he must not dispute 
 nor disobey. We must strive to enter in although the 
 gate be strait and the way narrow: we must be feeling 
 after God, if haply we may find him, though it be amid 
 the darkness of nature and the tremblings of dismay. We 
 may scarce have ability to repent after a godly sort, yet 
 ought we to bring forth "fruits meet for repentance." 
 With God alone may rest the prerogative to pronounce us 
 " sons of Abraham," yet, like Zaccheus, must we work the 
 works becoming that relation, and right the wronged and 
 feed the poor. While, then, we emphatically announce 
 the doctrine that the influence of the Holy Ghost is neces- 
 sary to quicken, renew, and purify the soul, we do at the 
 same time repudiate the principle that man may fold his 
 hands in sleep till the divine voice arouse him. Nothing 
 short of a celestial spark can ignite the fire of our sacri- 
 fice, but we can at least lay the wood upon the altar. 
 None but the Lord of the kingdom can admit to the 
 privilege of the kingdom, but at the same time it is well 
 to make inquiry of him who keeps the door. John was 
 only the bridegroom's friend, the herald of better things 
 to come; yet "Jerusalem and all Judea, and all the 
 region round about Jordan," did but its duty in flocking 
 to him to hear his tidings, and learn where to direct its 
 homage. To endangered men the night was given for far 
 other uses than for sleep : the storm is high and the rocks
 
 JOHN WESLEY. 35 
 
 are near, the sails are rent, and the planks are starting 
 beneath the fury of the winds and waves, what is the 
 dictate of wisdom, of imperious necessity? what but to 
 ply the pump, to undergird the ship, to strike the mast, 
 haul taut the cordage, "strengthen the things that remain," 
 and trust in the Most High. If safety is vouchsafed, it is 
 God who saves. So in spiritual things man must strive as 
 if he could do everything, and trust as if he could do 
 nothing ; and in regeneration the Scripture doctrine is that 
 he can do nothing. He may accomplish things leading 
 thereto, just as the Jews ministered to the resurrection of 
 Lazarus by leading Christ to the sepulchre ; but it was the 
 divine voice that raised the dead. Thus sermons, Scrip- 
 tures, catechisms, and all the machinery of Christian 
 action, will be tried and used, dealt out by the minister 
 and shared by his flock ; but with each and all must the 
 conviction rest that it is not by might of mechanism, nor 
 by power of persuasion conversion is brought about, but 
 by the Spirit of the Lord of hosts. 
 
 This truth was grievously lost sight of in Wesley's days, 
 sunk in the tide of cold morality that inundated the land 
 and consigned it to a theosophy less spiritual than that of 
 Socrates or Plato. But up from the depths of the heathen- 
 ish flood our great reformer fished this imperishable truth, 
 a treasure-trove exceeding in value pearls of great price, 
 or a navy of sunken galleons. And through his ministry 
 this shone with unequalled light, for if anything distin- 
 guished it more than another from contemporary minis- 
 tries, it was the emphatic prominence it assigned to the 
 Spirit's work in conversion. This was the Pharos of his 
 teaching, the luminous point which led the world-lost soul 
 into the haven of assured peace and conscious adoption.
 
 36 JOHN WESLEY. 
 
 And much need was there that this dogma should have 
 received this distinctive preeminence and peculiar honour, 
 for it was either totally forgotten, coarsely travestied, or 
 boldly denied. 
 
 Having now dealt with the truths that bear upon per- 
 sonal religion and individual subjection to the truth, as 
 well as the means whereby this was to be effected the 
 direct agency of the Divine Spirit, things insisted upon 
 with untiring energy by John Wesley we now turn atten- 
 tion to the views which our great reformer put forth 
 regarding Christians in their associated capacity. He 
 knew full well, none better than he, that the individual 
 believer is not a unit, an isolation, a monad, complete in 
 his own sufficiency, spinning round himself like a top upon 
 its peg, rejoicing in the music of its complacent hum ; no, 
 but a joint in a system, a member of a body, a fraction of 
 a whole, a segment of an orb, which, incomplete without 
 its parts, becomes only by their adhesion terse and rotund. 
 Every portion of the Christian community, like every por- 
 tion of the body politic, is related to every other portion. 
 When a man becomes a Christian he is inducted into a 
 fraternity, made free of a sodality and guild, with the 
 interests of which he becomes so intimately bound up 
 that his pulse dances in its health and languishes in its 
 decay. The figure of Scripture becomes experimental 
 truth: "Whether one member suffer, all the members 
 suffer with it ; or one member be honoured, all the mem- 
 bers rejoice with it." 1 Cor. xii, 26. He is disjoined from 
 his former association with worldly men ; the bad blood of 
 his unconverted alliances is drawn off and that of a new 
 fellowship infused, and he becomes a member of its body, 
 of its flesh, and of its bones. A homogeneity is established
 
 JOHN WESLEY. , 61 
 
 between himself and all the other parts of this spiritual 
 incorporation; and while in matters of faith, obedience, 
 and personal responsibility he retains his individual man- 
 hood, in all that affects the fortunes and duties of the 
 Church he thrills with a quick sympathy as the remotest 
 nerve will with the brain. And this corporate life he only 
 lives, enjoys its advantages, and answers its ends, while he 
 lives in conjunction, in observance of divine ordinances 
 and visible worship, with men like-minded with himself, 
 the regenerate sons of God. For developing this feature 
 of the Christian life Wesley made provision in the 
 arrangements of his system, and this he did by promi- 
 nently recognising this further third principle, namely : 
 
 That the Church of Jesus Christ is a spiritual organiza- 
 tion consisting of spiritual men associated for spiritual 
 purposes. 
 
 This is the theory of that Church of which he was for 
 several years the laborious and conscientious minister, and 
 is nowhere more happily expressed than in its nineteenth 
 article : " The visible Church of Christ is a congregation 
 of faithful men in the which the pure word of God is 
 preached and the sacraments duly administered accord- 
 ing to Christ's ordinance in all those things that of neces- 
 sity are requisite to the same." But this beautiful and 
 Scriptural theory was, to a great degree, an unapproacha- 
 ble ideal in this country until that system arose, under the 
 creative hand of "Wesley, which made it a reality and 
 gave it a positive existence, "a local habitation and a 
 name." It is true the name he gave it was not Church, it 
 was The Society, and in other forms and subdivisions, 
 bands, classes, &c., but in essence it was the same; it 
 was the union and communion of the Lord's people for
 
 38 JOHN WESLEY. 
 
 common edification and the glory of Christ. As soon as 
 two or three converts were made to those earnest personal 
 views of religion he promulgated, the inclination and 
 necessity for association commenced. It was seen in his 
 Oxford praying coterie; seen in his fellowship with the 
 Moravians; and afterward fully exemplified in the mother 
 society at the Foundry, Moorfields, and in all the affiliated 
 societies throughout the kingdom. The simple object of 
 these associations was thus explained in a set of general 
 rules for their governance, published by the brothers Wes- 
 ley in 1743. The preamble states the nature and design 
 of a Methodist Society to be " a company of men having 
 the form and seeking the power of godliness; united in 
 order to pray together, to receive the word of exhortation, 
 and to watch over one another in love, that they may help 
 each other to work out their salvation. There is only one 
 condition previously required of those who desire admis- 
 sion into these societies a desire to flee from the wrath to 
 come, and to be saved from their sins." They were further 
 to evidence this desire : " 1. By doing no harm, by avoid- 
 ing evil of every kind. 2. By doing good, by being in 
 every kind merciful after their power; as they have 
 opportunity, doing good of every possible sort, and, as far 
 as possible, to all men. And, 3. By attending upon all 
 the ordinances of God. Such are the public worship of 
 God ; the ministry of the word, either read or expounded ; 
 the supper of the Lord ; family and private prayer ; search- 
 ing the Scriptures ; and fasting or abstinence." Whether 
 we regard the design of association given in these terms, 
 or the specification of duty, we seem to trace a virtual 
 copy of the articular definition of the Church recently 
 cited. Wesley never failed to recognise the Scriptural
 
 JOHN WE6LEY. 39 
 
 distinction between the Church and the world, nor to 
 mark it. While he viewed with becoming deference the 
 kingdoms of this world, and bowed to the authority of 
 the magistrate as the great cement of human society, the 
 clamp that binds the stones of the edifice together, he saw 
 another kingdom pitched within the borders of these, 
 diifering from them in everything and infinitely above 
 them, yet consentaneous with them, and vesting them 
 with its sanction, itself all the while purely spiritual in 
 its basis, laws, privileges, and sovereign. Blind must he 
 have been to a degree incompatible with his general per- 
 spicacity, had he not perceived this. The men who pos- 
 sessed religion, and the men who possessed it not, were 
 not to be for a moment confounded. They might be 
 neighbours in locality and friends in good-will ; but they 
 were wide as the poles asunder in sentiment. The quick 
 and the dead may be placed side by side, but no one can 
 for ever so short a period mistake dead flesh for living 
 fibre, the abnegation of power for energy in repose. The 
 church and the churchyard are close by ; but the worship- 
 pers in the one and the dwellers in the other are as unlike 
 as two worlds can make them. The circle within the 
 circle, the company of the converted, the imperium in 
 im/perio, the elect, the regenerate, Wesley always distin- 
 guished from the mass of mankind, and made special 
 provision for their edification in all his organisms. 
 
 And in sooth the marked and constant recognition of 
 this spiritual incorporation it is which gives revealed 
 religion its only chance of survival in the world. To 
 forget it is practically to abolish the distinction between 
 error and truth, between right and wrong. There is no 
 heresy more destructive than a bad life. To class the man
 
 4:0 JOHN WESLEY. 
 
 of good life and the man of bad together, to call them by 
 the same name and elevate them to the same standing, is 
 high treason against the majesty of truth, poisons the very 
 spring of morality, and does conscience to death. A 
 nation cannot be a Church, nor a Church a nation. The 
 case of Israel was the only one in which the two king- 
 doms were coextensive, conterminous. A member of a 
 nation a man becomes by birth, but a member of a Church 
 only by a second birth. Generation is his title to the one, 
 regeneration to the other. The one is a natural accident, 
 the other a moral state. Citizens are the sons of the soil, 
 Christians are the sons of heaven. To clothe, then, the 
 members of the one with the livery and title of the other 
 without the prerequisite qualification and dignity, is not 
 only a solecism in language, but an outrage upon truth. 
 It is to reconcile opposites, harmonize discords, blend dis- 
 similitudes, and identify tares with wheat, light with dark- 
 ness, life with death. It is the destruction of piety among 
 the converted, for they see the unconverted honoured with 
 their designation, advanced to their level, obtruded upon 
 their society. It is ruin to the souls of the unconverted, 
 because without effort of their own, without faith, or 
 prayer, or good works, or reformation, or morals, they are 
 surprised with the style and title, the status and rewards 
 of Christian men. This is unfortunately the practice on a 
 large scale ; the theory is otherwise and unexceptionable. 
 Imbued with a deep sense of the beauty and correctness 
 of the theory, Wesley did only what was natural and 
 right. when he sought to make it a great fact a substance 
 and not a shadow in the Church militant. In this he 
 not only obeyed a divine injunction, but yielded to the 
 current of events. By a natural attraction his converts
 
 JOHN WESLEY. 41 
 
 were drawn together. Like will to like. "They that 
 feared the Lord spake often one to another;" and "all 
 that believed were together." The particles were similar, 
 the aggregate homogeneous. They had gone through the 
 same throes, rejoiced in the same parentage, learned in 
 the same school, and embraced the same destiny. They 
 owned a common creed, " one Lord, one faith, one baptism, 
 one God and Father of all ;" resisted a common tempta- 
 tion, took up a common cross, and in common renounced 
 the world, the flesh, and the devil. They came together 
 on the ground of identity of character, of desire for mutual 
 discipline and benefit, and of community of feeling and 
 interest. It is obvious to perceive that "Wesley did not 
 originate this communion, whether it were for good or 
 evil ; for it was an ordinance of God in its primal institu- 
 tion, and in this particular instance arose out of the very- 
 nature of the case. Wesley could not have prevented it, 
 except by such measures as would have undone all he had 
 done. God's believing people found one another out, and 
 associated by a law as fixed and unalterable as that kali 
 and acid coalesce, or that the needle follows the magnet. 
 But while he did not enact the law which God's people 
 obeyed in this close intercommunion and relationship, he 
 understood and revered it, and furthered and regulated 
 the intercourse of the godly by the various enactments 
 and graduated organizations of his system. He set the 
 city upon the hill, and bade it be conspicuous ; the lamp 
 upon the stand, and bade it shine ; the vine upon the soil, 
 and said to it, Be fruitful. He set it apart, and trimmed 
 it, and hedged it in; convinced that such separation as 
 Scripture enjoins (2 Cor. vi) was essential to its growth 
 and welfare a truth the Christian law teaches and indi-
 
 4:2 JOHN WESLEY. 
 
 vidual experience confirms. Every benefit the institution 
 of a Church might be supposed to secure is forfeited when 
 the Church loses its distinctive character and becomes 
 identified with the world. 
 
 But neither to glorify their founder by their closer com- 
 bination, nor for self-complacent admiration, nor to be a 
 gazing-stock for the multitude an ecclesiastical lion of 
 formidable dimensions and portentous roar nor for the 
 tittle tattle of mutual gossipry did John "Wesley segregate 
 his people; no, but for their good and the good of man- 
 kind. The downy bed of indolence for the Church, or the 
 obesity that grows of inaction, never once came within his 
 calculations as their lot. To rub the rust from each other, 
 as iron sharpeneth iron, was the first object of their associ- 
 ation ; and the second to weld their forces together in the 
 glowing furnace of communion for the benefit of the 
 world. They were to rejoice in the good grapes of their 
 own garden, and sweeten by inoculation and culture the 
 sour grapes of their neighbour. They were to attract all 
 goodness to themselves, and where it was wanting create 
 it, after the Arab proverb, " The palm-tree looks upon the 
 palm-tree and groweth fruitful !" It was as the salt of the 
 earth they were to seek to retain their savour, and not for 
 their own preservation alone. No one ever more sedu- 
 lously guarded the inward subjective aspect of the Church, 
 its self-denying intent, its exclusion of the unholy and 
 unclean, than John Wesley ; and no one ever directed its 
 objective gaze outward and away from itself, "to have 
 compassion on the ignorant and out of the way," with 
 more untiring industry than he. He knew the Church's 
 mission was more than half unfulfilled, while it locked 
 itself up in its ark of security, and left the world without
 
 JOHN WESLEY. 43 
 
 to perish. He was himself the last man in the world to 
 leave the wounded to die, passing by in his supercilious- 
 ness, and asking, ""Who is my neighbour?" and the last 
 to found a community which should be icy, selfish, and 
 unfeeling. He was a working minister, and fathomed the 
 depth and yielded to the full current of the truth, that the 
 Church must be a working Church. Armed at all points 
 with sympathies which brought him into contact with the 
 world without, the Church must resemble him in this. 
 He was an utterly unselfish being; he, if ever any, 
 could say 
 
 "I live not in myself, but I become 
 Portion of that around me." 
 
 To work for the benefit of men when he might have taken 
 his ease, became a necessity of his nature, moulded upon 
 the pattern of his self-sacrificing Master, and the law of 
 his being must be that of the Church's. It must " do or 
 die." It must be instant in season, out of season. It must 
 go into the highways and hedges. It must beseech men 
 to be reconciled to God. It must compel them to come in. 
 It miist give no sleep to its eyes, nor slumber to its eyelids, 
 till its work be done. It must stand in the top of high 
 places, by the way in the places of the paths, and cry, " O 
 ye simple, understand wisdom ; and ye fools, be ye of an 
 understanding heart !" It must gather all the might of its 
 energies, and lavish all the wealth of its resources, and 
 exhaust all the influences it can command, and coin all 
 the ingenuity of its devices into schemes for the saving 
 benefit of the world. Thus not merely conservative of the 
 truth must the Church be for its own edification and nur- 
 ture, but also diffusive of the truth for the renewal and 
 redemption of all around.
 
 44 JOHN WESLEY. 
 
 And these were grand discoveries a hundred years ago, 
 of which the credit rests very mainly with the founder of 
 Methodism, although mere common-places now. It is true 
 they were partially and speculatively held even then ; but 
 very partially, and in the region of thought rather than of 
 action. Some saw the truth of the matter, but it was in 
 its proverbial dwelling, and the well was deep, just per- 
 ceptible at the bottom, but beyond their grasp ; while to 
 the many the waters were muddy, and they saw it not at 
 all. There were no Bible, Tract, or Missionary Societies 
 then to employ the Church's powers and indicate its path 
 of duty. But "Wesley started them all. He wrote and 
 printed and circulated books in thousands upon thousands 
 of copies. He set afloat home and foreign missions. The 
 Church and the world were alike asleep; he sounded the 
 loud trumpet of the gospel, and awoke the world to trem- 
 ble and the Church to work. Never was such a scene 
 before in England The correctness and maturity of his 
 views amid the deep darkness surrounding him is startling, 
 wonderful, like the idea of a catholic Chulrch springing up 
 amid a sectarian Judaism. It is midday without the ante- 
 cedent dawn. It beggars thought. It defies explanation. 
 A Church in earnest as a want of the times is, even now 
 in these greatly advanced days, strenuously demanded and 
 eloquently enforced by appeal after appeal from the press, 
 the platform, and the pulpit ; but "Wesley gave it practical 
 existence from the very birth-hour of his society. His 
 vigorous bantling rent the swathing bands of quiet, self- 
 communing, and prevalent custom, and gave itself a 
 young Hercules to the struggle with the inertia of the 
 Church and the opposition of the world. Successfully it 
 encountered both. It quickened the one and subdued the
 
 JOHN WESLEY. 45 
 
 other, and attained by the endeavour the muscular devel- 
 opment and manful port and indomitable energy of its* 
 present life. John "Wesley's Church is no mummy cham- 
 ber of a pyramid silent, sepulchral, garnished with still 
 figures in hieroglyphic coif and cerecloth, but a busy 
 town, a busier hive, himself the informing spirit, the 
 parent energy, the exemplary genius of the whole. Never 
 was the character of the leader more accurately reflected 
 in his troops. Bonaparte made soldiers, Wesley made 
 active Christians. 
 
 The last principle we shall notice as illustrated by his 
 career has relation to the nature and work of the ministry. 
 
 A grand discovery lying very near the root of Method- 
 ism, considered as an ecclesiastical system, it was the for- 
 tune of John Wesley to light upon, not far from the outset 
 of his career, a discovery quite as momentous and influen- 
 tial in the diffusion and perpetuation of his opinions as 
 that with which Luther startled the world in 1524. Luther 
 published the then monstrous heresy that ministers who 
 are married can serve the Lord and his Church as holily, 
 learnedly, and acceptably as celibate priests and cloistered 
 regulars ; and our hero found out that men unqualified by 
 university education for orders in the Church were the 
 very fittest instruments he could employ in the itinerant 
 work of early Methodism. Rough work requires rough 
 hands. The burly pioneer is as needful in the army as the 
 dapper ensign, and the hewer of wood in the deep forest 
 as the French-polisher in the city. Now this was a great 
 discovery, up to that period a thing unknown. The 
 Roman Church knew nothing of such a device its orders 
 of various kinds bore no approximation to it ; the Protest- 
 ant Churches knew nothing of it presbyter and bishop
 
 46 JOHN WESLEY. 
 
 were at equal removes from it ; the very puritans and non- 
 conformists knew nothing of it, they being in their way as 
 great sticklers for clerical order and their succession as 
 any existing body the more pardonable, as some were 
 living in the early part of Wesley's history who had them- 
 selves officiated in the Churches of the Establishment. 
 His discovery was, that plain men just able to read, and 
 explain with some fluency what they read and felt, might 
 go forth without license from college, or presbytery, or 
 bishop, into any parish in the country, the weaver from 
 his loom, the shoemaker from his stall, and tell their 
 fellow-sinners of salvation and the love of Christ. This 
 was a tremendous innovation upon the established order 
 of things everywhere, and was as reluctantly forced upon 
 so starched a precisian as John Wesley, as it must have 
 horrified the members of the stereotyped ministries and 
 priesthoods existing around. But, as in Luther's case, so 
 here "the present necessity" was the teacher: "the 
 fields were white to the harvest, and the labourers were 
 few." We have ample evidence to show that if he could 
 have pressed into the service a sufficient number of the 
 clerical profession he would have preferred the employ- 
 ment of such agents exclusively, but as they were only 
 few of this rank who lent him their constant aid, he was 
 driven to adopt the measure which we think the salvation 
 of his system, and in some respects its glory. The greater 
 part of the clergy would have been unfitted for the work 
 he would have allotted them, even had they not been 
 hampered by the trammels of ecclesiastical usage. This 
 usage properly assigns a fixed portion of clerical labour to 
 one person, and to discharge it well is quite enough to 
 tax the powers of most men to the utmost. Few parish
 
 JOHN WESLEY. 47 
 
 ministers, how conscientious and diligent so ever, will ever 
 have to complain of too little to do. But Wesley had a 
 roving commission, was an "individuum vagum," as one 
 of the clergy called him, and felt himself called by his 
 strong sense of the need of some extraordinary means to 
 awaken the sleeping population of the country to overleap 
 the barriers of clerical courtesy and ecclesiastical law, 
 invading parish after parish of recusant incumbents with- 
 out compunction or hesitancy at the overweening impulse 
 of duty. However much some clergymen may have sym- 
 pathized with him in religious opinion, it is easy to under- 
 stand how many natural and respectable scruples might 
 prevent their following such a leader in his Church 
 errantry. They must, in fact, have broken with their 
 own system to give themselves to his, and this they might 
 not be prepared to do. They might value his itinerating 
 plan as supplementary to the localized labours of the 
 parish minister, but at the same time demur to its taking 
 the place of parochial duty as its tendency was and as its 
 effect has been. Thus was Wesley early thrown upon a 
 species of agency for help which he would doubtless sin- 
 cerely deplore at first, namely, a very slenderly equipped 
 but zealously ardent and fearless laity, but which, again, 
 his after experience led him to value at its proper worth, 
 and see in the adaptation of his men to the common mind 
 their highest qualification. "Fire low" is said to have 
 been his frequent charge in after life to young ministers, a 
 maxim the truth of which was confirmed by the years of 
 an unusually protracted ministry and acquaintance with 
 mankind. A ministry that dealt in perfumed handker- 
 chiefs, and felt most at home in Bond-street and the ball- 
 room, the perfumed popinjays of their profession; or one
 
 48 JOHN WESLEY. s 
 
 that, emulous of the fame of Nimrod, that mighty hunter 
 before the Lord, sacrificed clerical duty to the sports of 
 the field, prized the reputation of securing the brush 
 before that of being a good shepherd of the sheep, and 
 deemed the music of the Tally-ho or Hunting Chorus infi- 
 nitely more melodious than the Psalms of David; or, 
 again, one composed of the fastidious student of over- 
 refined sensibilities, better acquainted with the modes of 
 thought of past generations than with the actual habits of 
 the present, delicate recluses and nervous men, the bats 
 of society, who shrink from the sunshine of busy life into 
 the congenial twilight of their library, whose over-edu- 
 cated susceptibilities would prompt the strain 
 
 " O lift me as a wave, a leaf, a clo.ud ! 
 I fall upon the thorns of life, I bleed !" 
 
 these would have utterly failed for the work John "Wesley 
 wanted them to do. Gentlemen would either to a great 
 degree have wanted those sympathies that should exist 
 between the shepherd and the flock, or would have 
 quailed before the rough treatment the first preachers 
 were called to endure. Although the refinement of a 
 century has done much to crush the coarser forms of per- 
 secution, it must not be forgotten that the early ministers 
 of Methodism were called to encounter physical quite as 
 frequently as logical argumentation. The middle terms 
 of the syllogisms they were treated to were commonly the 
 middle of the horsepond, and their Sorites the dungheap. 
 Now the plain men whom "Wesley was so fortunate as to 
 enlist in his cause were those whose habits of daily life 
 and undisputing faith in the truth of their system qualified 
 them to " endure hardness as good soldiers." They were
 
 JOHN WESLEY. 4:9 
 
 not over refined for intercourse with rude, common peo- 
 ple, could put up with the coarsest fare in their mission to 
 preach the unsearchable riches of Christ to the poorest of 
 the poor, and were not to be daunted by the perspective 
 of rotten eggs and duckings, of brickbats and manda- 
 muses, which threatened to keep effectually in abeyance 
 any temptation to incur the woe when all men should 
 speak well of them. Hence among the first coadjutors of 
 the great leader were John Nelson, a stone-mason ; Thomas 
 Olivers, a shoemaker; William Hunter, a farmer; Alex- 
 ander Mather, a baker ; Peter Jaco, a Cornish fisherman ; 
 Thomas Hanby, a weaver, &c. 
 
 Another point in regard to the ministry to which Wesley 
 gave habitual prominence, was the duty of making that 
 profession a laborious calling. The heart and soul of his 
 system, as of his personal ministry, he made to be work. 
 Work was the mainspring of his Methodism, activity, 
 energy, progression. From the least to the largest wheel 
 within wheel that necessity created, or his ingenuity set 
 up, all turned, wrought, acted incessantly and intelligently 
 too. It was not mere machinery ; it was full of eyes. To 
 the lowest agent of Methodism, be it collector, contributor, 
 exhorter, or distributer of tracts, each has, besides the 
 faculty of constant occupation, the ability to render a 
 reason for what he does. Work and wisdom are in happy 
 combination at least, such was the purpose of the con- 
 triver, and we have reason to believe has been in a fair 
 proportion secured. And the labour that marks the lower, 
 marks preeminently the higher departments of the system. 
 The ministry beyond all professions demands labour. He 
 who seeks a cure that it may be a sinecure, or a benefice 
 which shall be a benefit to himself alone who expects to 
 
 4
 
 50 JOHN WESLEY. 
 
 find the ministry a couch of repose instead of a field for 
 toil a bread-winner rather than a soul-saver by means of 
 painful watchings, fastings, toils, and prayers has utterly 
 mistaken its nature, and is unworthy of its honour. It is a 
 stewardship, a husbandry, an edification, a ward, a war- 
 fare, demanding the untiring effort of the day and unslum- 
 bering vigilance of the night to fulfil its duties and secure 
 its reward. It is well to remember that the slothful and 
 the wicked servant are conjoined in the denunciation 
 of the indignant master "Thou wicked and slothful 
 servant !" 
 
 "Where there may be sufficient lack of principle to 
 prompt to indolence and self-indulgence, there are few 
 communions which will not present the opportunity to the 
 sluggish or sensual minister. But the Methodist mode of 
 operations is better calculated than perhaps almost any 
 other for checking human corruption when developing 
 itself in this form. The ordinary amount of official duty 
 required of the travelling preachers is enough to keep both 
 the reluctant and the willing labourer fully employed. 
 
 And Mr. Wesley exacted no more of others than he cheer- 
 fully and systematically rendered himself, daily labour even 
 to weariness being the habit of his life. 
 
 He was the prince of missionaries, however humble his 
 self-estimate might be, the prime apostle of Christendom 
 since Luther ; his preeminent example too likely to be lost 
 sight of in this missionary age, when the Church, in the 
 bustle of its present activities, has little time to cherish 
 recollections of its past worthies, or to speculate with 
 clearness on the shapes of its future calling and destiny. 
 But in one sense he was more than an apostle. By mira- 
 cle they were qualified with the gift of tongues for missions
 
 JOHN WESLEY. 51 
 
 to men of strange speech ; but Wesley did not shrink from 
 the toil of acquiring language after language, in order to 
 speak intelligibly on the subject of religion to foreigners. 
 The Italian he acquired that he might minister to a few 
 Vaudois ; the German, that he might converse with Mora- 
 vians; and the Spanish, for the benefit of some Jews 
 among his parishioners. Such rare parts, and zeal, and 
 perseverance, and learning, are seldom combined in any 
 living man : we have never seen nor heard of any one like 
 Wesley in the capacity and liking for labour ; we indulge, 
 therefore, very slender hopes of encountering such a one 
 in the remaining space of our pilgrimage. In our sober 
 judgment, it were as sane to expect the buried majesty of 
 Denmark to revisit the glimpses of the moon as hope to 
 find all the conditions presented in John Wesley show 
 themselves again in England. We may not look upon his 
 like again. His labours in a particular department that 
 of preaching astound from their magnitude ; although 
 these, far from being the sum total of his occupations, 
 were but a fraction of a vast whole, and a sample of the 
 rest. During fifty-two years, according to his biographers, 
 he generally delivered two sermons a day, very frequently 
 four or five. Calculating, therefore, at twice a day, and 
 allowing fifty sermons annually for extraordinary occa- 
 sions, which is the lowest computation that can be made, 
 the whole number in fifty-two years will be forty thousand 
 four hundred and sixty. To these may be added an infi- 
 nite number of exhortations to the societies after preach- 
 ing, and other occasional meetings at which he assisted. 
 Add to these his migrations and journeyings to and fro, 
 and none can say that his life was not well filled up. In 
 his younger days he travelled on horseback, and was a
 
 52 JOHN WESLEY. 
 
 hard but unskilful rider. With a book held up before his 
 eyes by both hands, and the rein dropped on the horse's 
 neck, he often travelled as much as fifty, sixty, or even 
 seventy miles a day ; from the quickness of his pace and 
 unguardedness of his horsemanship, endangering his own 
 and the good steed's limbs by frequent falls. At a later 
 period he used a carriage. Of his travels the lowest cal- 
 culation we can make is four thousand miles annually, 
 which, in fifty-two years, will give two hundred and eight 
 thousand miles; that is, if he had ridden eight times 
 round the globe on which we dwell, he would have had a 
 handsome surplus of miles remaining to have done his 
 achievement into Irish measure. Of the salutary effect 
 of these abundant labours upon his frame we have his 
 personal testimony at a very advanced age. His was a 
 "cruda viridisque senectus" to the last, and he himself a 
 memorable instance of the worth of the OPEN-AIR-AND- 
 HABI>WOKK-CUKE, a process of more certain value and 
 ready application at all times than hydropathy, homoeo- 
 pathy, or any of the thousand quackeries of the pres- 
 ent day. 
 
 In person he was small, and, when seen in company 
 with his friends, appeared almost unusually so. An 
 engraving is extant which thus pictures him walking with 
 Hamilton and Cole. It is amazing that so slight a frame, 
 shaken as it had been by early pulmonary attacks, could 
 have endured such incessant exposure and labour. To 
 seek to delineate the more subtile lines or delicate shades 
 of his character, our purpose forbids. The time and space 
 would be wanting, while there is no lack of liking 
 for the task. We shall therefore confine our further 
 remarks to an illustration of what we conceive to be the
 
 KY. HAMILTON. AND COLE. 
 
 (As seen -waikin* m i.'ue streets of Edinburgh.)
 
 JOHN WESLEY. 53 
 
 leading traits of John "Wesley's character, never so speci- 
 fied that we are aware of before, yet lying so palpably on 
 the surface, that they have only to be named to be recog- 
 nised. Without the preeminent qualities in question, no 
 one was ever great and good ; and as we have no scruple 
 in calling him great and good beyond easy comparison, so 
 are these qualities to be found developed in him to an 
 unusual degree. They made him what he became, the 
 successful reformer of his age, and one of England's 
 noblest worthies, while his system will make him a bene- 
 factor to millions yet unborn. 
 
 The distinctive features of character we unhesitatingly 
 ascribe to him, are an indomitable firmness, and a bound- 
 less benevolence. John Wesley was a man in a singular 
 measure tenax propositi. Where he thought himself cer- 
 tainly right, nothing on earth could move him. In all 
 such cases this quality is a great virtue, but in cases of a 
 different complexion it is a great fault. In questions of 
 doubtful propriety and prudence it will bear the ugly 
 names of obstinacy and self-will. But, stigmatize it as we 
 please, there never was a great man without a strong will, 
 and an infusion of self-reliance sufficient to raise him 
 above the dauntings of opposition and reliance upon 
 props. It is a heritable quality, as transmissible from 
 father to son, as the sage or " foolish face." Wesley cer- 
 tainly derived it from his parents. The daughter of the 
 eminent non-conformist rector of Cripplegate, Dr. Annes- 
 ley, who at thirteen years of age had studied the state 
 Church controversy, and made up her mind, with force of 
 reason too, to contemn her father's decision, and take her 
 place for life on the other side, cannot be supposed to 
 have been wanting in firmness ; who, further, would never
 
 54 JOHN WESLEY. 
 
 renounce her Jacobite respect for the jus divinum of the 
 Stuart kings, nor say amen to her husband's prayers for 
 him of the Revolution, nor bow beneath the thousand ills 
 of her married life, and pursued the onward, even, and 
 unwearying tenor of her way, undismayed by censure, 
 uncrushed by poverty and domestic cares, unchanging 
 and unchanged to the last, could not be wanting in it. 
 Nor was the sire less endowed with it, though there was 
 more of petulance and human passion in its display in 
 him. The man whose whole life was a perpetual struggle 
 with circumstances and war with opinions, and a series of 
 ill-rewarded efforts the wight who stole away from the 
 dissenting academy, whence they sohoed him in vain, and 
 without consulting friend or relative, tramped it to Oxford, 
 and entered himself a penniless servitor ; who afterward, 
 a right loyal but very threadbare clergyman, rode off in a 
 huff from his wife, nor rejoined her for a twelvemonth, till 
 the death of King William released him from his sturdily 
 kept but unrighteous vow who " fought with wild beasts" 
 for high Church of the highest order, and shrank from no 
 cuffs he caught in such a cause; and who, when his 
 " Job " was consumed in the fire that burnt his parsonage, 
 sat down to renew the labour of years, and recompose 
 and rewrite his learned Latin folio: these are so many 
 indications of indomitable firmness, that we should be 
 blind as moles to overlook its presence in his character. 
 John Wesley had the same unbending sinew. He too 
 was made of stern unpliant stuff, and to drive the Tiber 
 back to its sources were as easy a task as to turn him back 
 from a course deliberately chosen with the approval of his 
 judgment. Opponents, strong and numerous enough, he 
 had to encounter, to justify concession, had he been so
 
 JOHN WESLEY. 55 
 
 disposed, nor was reason always so visibly on his side but 
 he might have paused. We shall name an occasion or 
 two such as rarely occur in the life of a good man, which 
 signalized the lordliness of his will, and proved him to be 
 endowed with a rare determination. We omit the ridi- 
 cule and minor persecutions provoked by the religious 
 singularities of his early career, as not sufficient to turn 
 even an aspen-minded man who had any earnest devotion 
 about him, from his way, and note his first most trying 
 decision that by which he was led to renounce his father's 
 living. 
 
 Shortly before his father's decease, it occurred to the 
 head of the family, looking anxiously forward to its for- 
 tunes, and those of his parish, how desirable it would be 
 that his son John should succeed him in his cure, at once 
 for the perpetuation of the religious care he had exercised 
 over his parishioners, and that his wife and daughters 
 might retain their accustomed home at the parsonage. 
 Here was every consideration to move a susceptible man 
 regard for souls, veneration for a parent in the ministry, 
 respect for hoar hairs grown gray in the service of the 
 Church, and Christian and family ties of more than ordi- 
 nary strength all put before him in a strain of uncommon 
 force and pathos by his father in his final appeal. 
 
 But none of these tilings moved our hero. He was 
 devout, affectionate, and filial, but firm ; so notoriously so, 
 that his elder brother Samuel, writing to him on the sub- 
 ject in December, 1734, says: "Yesterday I received a 
 letter from my father, wherein he tells me you are unalter- 
 ably resolved not to accept of a certain living if you could 
 get it. After this declaration I believe no one can move 
 your mind but Him who made it." The question was, in
 
 56 JOHN WESLEY. 
 
 fact, decided, and he was not to be shaken from his deter- 
 mination, the ground of decision being not the comparative 
 merits of Epworth and Oxford, as fields of usefulness, but 
 something more exclusively personal. He felt as many a 
 man in earnest about salvation has felt before and since, 
 that the care of his own soul is of prime importance, and 
 must be especially regarded in every measure we adopt ; 
 that the neglect of self is ill compensated by saving ben- 
 efit to others, or any advantage of an earthly kind. For 
 reasons given with great length and clearness, in a letter 
 to his father, he concluded a continued residence at Oxford 
 essential to his soul's peace and welfare. " The point is," 
 he says, " whether I shall or shall not work out my salva- 
 tion, whether I shall serve Christ or Belial." The semi- 
 monastic life of the university was essential to the very 
 life of piety in his heart according to his views at that 
 juncture; therefore Epworth, with its long list of pru- 
 dential make-weights, kicked the beam. 
 
 And Wesley was humanly right. His personal relation 
 to eternity outweighed all other considerations to his awa- 
 kened soul. He felt, as few men feel, how solemn a thing 
 it is to die. His resolution was based upon the sentiment 
 of his own hymn in after days : 
 
 "A charge to keep I have, 
 
 A God to glorify ; 
 A never-dying soul to save, 
 
 And fit it for the sky." 
 
 And "Wesley was divinely right. If ever the Spirit of 
 God had to do with the moral movements of men, its 
 operation is discernible in this case. It was of infinite 
 moment to the world that "Wesley's decision should have 
 been what it was, and of equal moment to his own peace
 
 JOHN WESLEY. 5? 
 
 of conscience that it should have been correct. The mode 
 in which he viewed the question sets him right in the 
 court of conscience, and the results that followed justified 
 his decision. His father would have involved him in a 
 maze of nice casuistry puzzled him by a complex tangle 
 of motives and influences but wiser than he, and more 
 free from bias, the son looks at it in the simple, proper 
 light, that of duty, and gives utterance to the following 
 sentiments, which are sublimely true : 
 
 "I do not say that the glory of God is to be my first, or 
 my principal consideration, but my only one: since all 
 that are not implied in this are absolutely of no weight ; 
 in presence of this they all vanish away, they are less than 
 the small dust of the balance. And, indeed, till all other 
 considerations were set aside, I could never come to any 
 clear determination; till my eye was single my whole 
 body was full of darkness. Every consideration distinct 
 from this threw a shadow over all the objects I had in 
 view, and was such a cloud as no light could penetrate. 
 Whereas, so long as I can keep my eye single, and 
 steadily fixed on the glory of God, I have no more doubt 
 of the way wherein I should go, than of the shining of 
 the sun at noon-day." 
 
 "Well said, clear head, and stoutly done, brave heart, 
 though there were natural yearnings and fond misgivings 
 in thy way ! In questions of duty thou didst clearly see 
 duty alone is to be consulted. Thou didst not confer with 
 flesh and blood; these had crushed thy conscience, and 
 warped thy will, and reversed thy decision. Thou didst 
 take the matter to the infallible oracle, Him that sitteth 
 upon the throne ; like Hezekiah thou didst lay it upon the 
 altar of the Most High, and tremulously say, "that which
 
 58 JOHN WESLEY. 
 
 I know not teach thou me," and thou wert rewarded with 
 a divine intimation, "This is the way!" Thou didst thus 
 hate thy father and thy mother and thy house, and take 
 up thy cross for Christ's sake and the gospel's; but thy 
 more than natural, thy Christian firmness, reaped its 
 recompense even here, for thou receivedst a hundredfold 
 now, even in this time, houses and brethren, and sisters 
 and mothers, and children, and long since, in heaven, 
 eternal life. Stoic fortitude, Koman daring, hide your 
 heads before such firmness as this. Epictetus is a jest, 
 and Regulus, "egregius eovul" a fable, when compared 
 with this plain narrative of modern heroism. Here, how- 
 ever, was one of the leading features of John "Wesley's 
 character, broadly portrayed, deeply coloured, boldly 
 thrown up from the canvass, and giving happy omen of 
 his future career. 
 
 The firmness which marked his decision here, the same 
 which forbade discouragement and retractation at Oxford, 
 where, after a short absence, he found his flock of twenty- 
 seven persons reduced to five, and which made him resist 
 the authorities at Georgia, was peculiarly shown in his 
 relations to the Church of England throughout his life. 
 In the line of remarks this topic opens, we shall describe 
 simply the facts of the case, and neither apologize for 
 Wesley nor condemn the Church. He was never a Dis- 
 senter in his own view of the word, and never wished his 
 followers to be. Nevertheless there is a prevailing order 
 in the proceedings of every community, and this order, in 
 his own Church, he did not hesitate to disturb, at the 
 instance of what he deemed sufficiently valid reasons. 
 Whatever his followers may urge in defence of his meas- 
 ures, they were obviously at odds with ecclesiastical order.
 
 JOHN WESLEY. 59 
 
 We have a very remarkable conversation of John Wesley 
 with the Bishop of Bristol, in the year 1739, on the subject 
 of justification by faith, in which, after disposing of that 
 topic, Wesley's proceedings are canvassed; the whole 
 going in proof of two things : the one how careful he was 
 in the outset of his career to encroach as little as possible 
 upon canonical order; and the other, that at the call of 
 apprehended duty he was prepared to go any lengths in 
 violation of it. 
 
 The history of Wesley's relations to the Established 
 Church is traced with elaborate skill in a series of papers 
 in the "Wesleyan Methodist Magazine" for 1829, to 
 which we must refer our readers, and one sentence alone 
 from which we will extract: " While his attachment to 
 the Church was truly conscientious, equally so was his 
 determination to innovate as Providence should direct 
 him. His language equally with his actions indicated the 
 self-impelling convictions of the Reformer." This is just 
 the philosophy of the case as clearly put by the author, 
 and felt by Mr. Wesley. But so completely had the ven- 
 erable leader of the movement habituated himself to the 
 independent, action of his society that nothing could have 
 been more in accordance with the current of his life, prin- 
 ciples, and anticipations, (see "Minutes of Conference" 
 for 1744,) nor more certainly have secured his approval, 
 than the distinctive position this body has since taken up, 
 neither controlled by the Church of England nor hostile 
 to it. That body seems to have embodied in the happiest 
 way the spirit and pattern of its founder, when it defined 
 its general policy toward the Establishment in the follow- 
 ing terms : " Methodism exists in a friendly relation with 
 the Establishment. In all its official writings and sane-
 
 60 JOHN WESLEY. 
 
 tioned publications, though often called to defend itself 
 against intemperate clergymen, it treats the Church itself 
 with respect and veneration, and cordially rejoices in the 
 advance of its religious character and legitimate moral 
 influence." 
 
 In the unbending firmness of our hero we see much 
 of the gracious man, the man whose heart is established 
 with grace, but we see also in it largely the man John 
 Wesley. We fancy we perceive in it no less somewhat 
 of the sturdiness of the national character. John Bull 
 will not be badgered and brow-beaten any more than 
 he will be coaxed and cajoled into what his strong 
 determination opposes ; and Wesley, in his nervous Eng- 
 lish, his practical wisdom, his steady good sense, and his 
 unconquerable will, displayed some of the most respect- 
 able and salient points of the Saxon character, belonging 
 by unmistakable evidence to that family of the Bulls, 
 which, notwithstanding all its faults, has no few quali- 
 ties to admire. There is in his rigid firmness, moreover, 
 something of his puritan ancestry, one point at least in 
 which Bishop Warburton was right. His blood was viti- 
 ated with their stubborn humour, if it be a vice. He 
 belonged to the tribe of Ishinael by both father's and 
 mother's side at a single remove, and he could not be 
 expected to turn out other than he did. But we pause. 
 John Wesley was frank, generous, open, simple as a child ; 
 confiding, plastic, and persuasible where a man had right 
 upon his side, but where himself was right he was posi- 
 tive to a fault? no, to perfection; and it had been a 
 less miracle to move a mountain into the sea than to move 
 him from his purpose. This goes far to explain the man 
 and his work. To no one was Regent Murray's saying at
 
 JOHN WESLEY. 61 
 
 the grave of John Knox ever more applicable than to our 
 intrepid modern John : 
 
 " There lies one who never feared the face of man." 
 
 Unbounded benevolence was another leading trait in 
 his character. This was the basis of his life, the spring 
 of his self-denial and his labours. A recluse at Oxford, 
 musty folios and metaphysics could not extinguish the 
 smouldering fire within 
 
 " He thought as a sage, but he felt as a man." 
 
 Afterward the fire burst forth ; he kindled as he flew over 
 the world, a flaming seraph of mercy to mankind. 
 
 At the University his benevolence led him into frightful 
 prisons and condemned cells, into hospital and lazar-house ; 
 from the society of the common-room and beloved books 
 to converse with felons and miserable sufferers. It cur- 
 tailed his bread and his dress, it debarred him of the com- 
 fort of a well-shorn head, it led to a course of self-sacrifice 
 and effort for the benefit of the wretched and the sinful, 
 which put his sincerity sorely to the test, and lasted with 
 his life. His heart bled for the world ; he saw sin burst- 
 ing out in blotches of sorrow all over the face of society, 
 and he longed to purify, console, and heal. He could not 
 look upon men drawn unto death and ready to be slain 
 without attempting their rescue. He saw no hope for their 
 bodies or their souls but in the labours and voluntary gifts 
 of Christians for their salvation. He felt for their fate ; 
 but, eminently practical, he felt in bed and board, in 
 clothing and comfort. His was sumptuary sensibility 
 more than tearful, active compassion rather than passive. 
 Merely because more easy of illustration, and not for a
 
 62 JOHN WESLEY. 
 
 moment putting it in comparison with the ardour of his 
 soul to do good, we adduce his monetary benevolence in 
 proof of our point a benevolence which would give all, 
 do all, reserve nothing, provided it could but win a 
 revenue of glory to God and happiness to wretched men. 
 Never did any man part with money more freely. His 
 charities knew no limit but his means. He gave away all 
 that he had beyond bare provision for his present wants. 
 He began this procedure early, and never left off till he 
 had done with earth. In his first year at college he 
 received 30, and making 28 suffice for his necessities, 
 he gave away in charities 2. The next year he received 
 60, but still making 28 meet his expenditure, he gave 
 away 32. The third year he received 90 and gave 
 away 62. His receipts in the fourth year increased by 
 the same sum as before, and out of 120 he gave away all 
 but his primitive 28. And thus he acted through life, 
 having given away in charities, it is believed, as much as 
 30,000, without a moment's thought for himself, his 
 hands open as day, his heart the dwelling-place of kind- 
 ness. His generous and unstinted liberality finds its most 
 convincing proof in his circumstances at death. He had 
 often and publicly declared that his own hands should be 
 his executors, and that if he died worth 10 beyond the 
 value of his books and other inconsiderable items, he 
 would give the world leave to call him a thief and a 
 robber. He made all he could, and his publications were 
 numerous and profitable ; he saved all he could, not wast- 
 ing so much as a sheet of paper; and then he gave all he 
 could, with an angel's sublime disregard of gold and silver 
 and the wealth the world sets such store by. The notion 
 that he must be enriching himself prevailed even among
 
 JOHN WESLEY. 63 
 
 those who ought to have known better. Need we wonder, 
 then, that he received a letter from the Board of Excise 
 telling him that the Commissioners could not doubt but 
 that he had plate of which he had neglected to make 
 entry, and requiring him immediately to send a proper 
 return. The following was his answer: "Sir, I have two 
 silver teaspoons at London, and two at Bristol ; this is all 
 the plate which I have at present; and I shall not buy 
 any more while so many around me want bread. Tour 
 obedient servant, JOHN WESLEY." His chaise and horses, 
 his clothes, and a few trifles of that kind, were all, his 
 books excepted, that he left at his death. Thus he laid 
 not up treasure upon earth, but in heaven, a good founda- 
 tion against the time to come, that he might lay hold upon 
 eternal life. Free from the love of money and the impulse 
 of ambition, the two most ordinary motives of action 
 among civilized men, what powerful principle sustained 
 him in his life-long career of labour and endurance, self- 
 denial and responsibility? One that never entered into 
 the calculation of his unfriendly critics and biographers 
 a strong sense of duty springing from love to God. The 
 stanza of the hymn so much upon his lips on his dying 
 bed is the key that unlocks his heart, that opens up the 
 mystery of a life otherwise inexplicable : 
 
 "I'll praise my Maker while I've breath, 
 And when my voice is lost in death 
 
 Praise shall employ my nobler powers ; 
 My days of praise shall ne'er be past, 
 While life, and thought, and being last, 
 
 Or immortality endures." 
 
 And when the daughters of music were brought low, and 
 the death-rattle was heard in his throat, when lip and
 
 64 JOHN WESLEY. 
 
 limb were alike stiffening in the paralysis and collapse of 
 death, the last feeble effort of his voice was put forth in 
 syllabling 
 
 " I '11 praise I '11 praise." 
 
 Thus died John Wesley, an end in harmony with his 
 life. Our Euthanasia shapes itself into resemblance to his 
 dismissal: "Let me die the death of the righteous, and 
 let my last end be like his!" 
 
 But we cannot leave our subject even here without 
 adverting to one of the finest forms in which the benevo- 
 lence of this great man showed itself one of the finest 
 forms, in fact, which it can assume amid the war of parties 
 and clash of religious discord namely, his enlarged charity 
 toward religionists of every name. We believe there is no 
 instance on record in which he was the assailant, and that 
 it was only when covered with the blackest aspersions 
 affecting his character and creed that he came forth to 
 make his modest and, in most cases, convincing apologies. 
 The unmeasured invectives of many a Thersites both in 
 the Church and in the world he met with the philosophic 
 gentleness and gravity of a Ulysses. He seldom forgot in 
 the heat of polemics what was due to himself as a gentle- 
 man, a scholar, and a Christian. 
 
 His catholicity is seen in the constant object of his 
 labours, which was not to raise a new sect among other 
 sects, but to revive the languid spirit of religion in all, 
 and especially in his own beloved Church. That ever his 
 work and people took another direction was not owing to 
 any crafty scheme, long a hatching in his own bosom, but 
 to the bent of circumstances and the preference of the 
 people themselves. He gave no countenance to prose-
 
 JOHN WESLEY. 65 
 
 lytism, and deprecated, at least, the name of separation. 
 He never put his peculiar views above the fundamentals 
 of the faith ; nor, where the differences were the greatest 
 between himself and others, did he for a moment forget 
 that "charity which is the bond of perfectness." He 
 believed that a strong vein of piety ran through the life 
 and death of many Romanists, the monks of La Trappe, 
 and Ignatius Loyola himself. He believed that Pelagius, 
 the Montanists, and other early heretics, as they are called, 
 might be wise and holy men despite their ignominious 
 reputation; and while he vindicates the orthodoxy of 
 Michael Servetus, has, in the same breath, a word of com- 
 mendation for John Calvin : " I believe that Calvin was a 
 great instrument of God; and that he was a wise and 
 pious man." His enlarged charity deemed the heathen 
 capable of eternal life, and opened heaven even to the 
 brute creation. Wesley was a man to be loved. In these 
 speculative views he may have been right or wrong ; but 
 they are an index to his soul, and prove that whatever 
 else he may have been he was certainly not a narrow 
 sectarist nor a cruel bigot. In all the atlases in his 
 library there was not one little map devoted to a Meth- 
 odist heaven. The distinctive point of his Arminian creed, 
 that redemption is for the world, proves him to have been 
 a person of large, generous, all-comprehending sympathy 
 and love. His sentiments on ecclesiastical controversy 
 are so apposite that we must do ourselves the pleasure of 
 adducing them : 
 
 " We may die without the knowledge of many truths, 
 and yet be carried into Abraham's bosom ; but if we die 
 without love what will knowledge avail ? Just as much as 
 it avails the devil and his angels ! I will not quarrel with
 
 66 JOHN WESLEY. 
 
 you about any opinion ; only see that your heart be right 
 toward God, that you know and love the Lord Jesus 
 Christ, that you love your neighbour, and walk as your 
 Master walked, and I desire no more. I am sick of opin- 
 ions; I am weary to bear them; my soul loathes this 
 frothy food. Give me solid and substantial religion ; give 
 me an humble and gentle lover of God and man, a man 
 full of mercy and good fruits, without partiality and with- 
 out hypocrisy ; a man laying himself out in the work of 
 faith, the patience of hope, the labour of love. Let my 
 soul be with these Christians, wheresoever they are, and 
 whatsoever opinion they are of. 'Whosoever thus doth 
 the will of my Father which is in heaven, the same is my 
 brother and sister and mother.' " 
 
 And we add, capping this declaration with our heart's 
 heartiest approval, let every one that readeth this say 
 Amen. "We regret that our space will not allow us to 
 transfer to our pages the fine anecdote of the casual inter- 
 view between the venerable Charles Simeon, then a young 
 Calvinistic clergyman, and the aged apostle of Methodism, 
 so creditable to the wisdom and piety of both. Our 
 readers who may not be acquainted with it are referred to 
 the Memoir of Simeon by Carus. 
 
 Unlike many, unlike most enduring celebrities, Wesley 
 was successful, popular, appreciated during his lifetime, 
 nor had to wait for posthumous praise. This was doubt- 
 less owing in part to the practical bent his genius took, 
 which was calculated to win popular regard, but also to 
 the unequalled excellence he displayed in the line he had 
 chosen. The man who was known to have travelled more 
 miles, preached more sermons, and published more books 
 than any traveller, preacher, author, since the days of the
 
 JOHN WESLEY. 67 
 
 apostles, must have had much to claim the admiration and 
 respect of his contemporaries. The man who exhibited 
 the greatest disinterestedness all his life through, who has 
 exercised the widest influence on the religious world, who 
 has established the most numerous sect, invented the most 
 efficient system of Church polity, who has compiled the 
 best book of sacred song, and who has thus not only 
 chosen eminent walks of usefulness, but in every one of 
 them claims the first place, deserved to be regarded by 
 them and by posterity as no common man.
 
 ft * 
 
 4 
 *
 
 
 
 VW|[ULGABG RB 
 
 Bishop of ihe MeihwiisL Episcopal Chtirch.
 
 LATE SENIOR BISHOP OF THE METHODIST EriSCOTAL CHURCH. 
 
 BISHOP M'KENDEEE was born in King William County, 
 Virginia, July 6, 1757. We know little of the events of 
 his early life. He joined the patriots of the Revolution, 
 and attained, it is said, the rank of adjutant in the army. 
 During a season of remarkable religious interest in Vir- 
 ginia, in 1787, he became seriously concerned for his soul. 
 Twelve hundred members were added to the Church on 
 the Brunswick Circuit, which included the place of his 
 residence, under the preaching of Rev. John Easter, a man 
 of note in those days. M'Kendree, who had before been 
 deeply impressed with religious convictions, says : 
 
 "My convictions were renewed. They were deep and 
 pungent. The great deep of the heart was broken up. Its 
 deceit and desperately wicked nature was disclosed, and 
 the awful, the eternally ruinous consequences, clearly ap- 
 peared. My repentance was sincere. I became willing, 
 and was desirous to be saved on any terms. After a sore 
 and sorrowful travail of three days, which were employed 
 in hearing Mr. Easter, and in fasting and prayer, while the 
 man of God was showing a large congregation the way of 
 salvation by faith, with a clearness which at once aston- 
 ished and encouraged me, I ventured my all upon Christ.
 
 YO WILLIAM M'KENDKEE. 
 
 In a moment my soul was relieved of a burden too heavy 
 to be borne, and joy instantly succeeded sorrow. For a 
 short space of time I was fixed in silent adoration, giving 
 glory to God for his unspeakable goodness to such an un- 
 worthy creature." 
 
 From this happy change he passed on to higher expe- 
 riences. The doctrine of entire sanctification was then 
 preached, perhaps more faithfully than now, by our min- 
 istry. He received this great truth, and resolutely sought 
 to attain its experimental knowledge. "Eventually," he 
 writes, " I obtained deliverance from unholy passions, and 
 found myself possessed of ability to resist temptation, to 
 take up and bear the cross, and to exercise faith and pa- 
 tience, and all the graces of the Spirit in a manner before 
 unknown." 
 
 He subsequently became impressed with the thought 
 that it was his duty to enter the itinerant ministry. 
 He hesitated, however, at the responsibility of the work. 
 Conflicts profound and most harassing followed; at last, 
 driven by his feelings, he visited his friend, Rev. Mr. Easter, 
 and travelled some time the circuit with him ; but again 
 hesitating, he retreated to his home, resolved to resume his 
 secular pursuits. He found no rest there, however, and 
 finally gave himself to the Virginia Conference, and was 
 appointed by Asbury to Mecklenburgh Circuit. He writes : 
 
 " I went immediately to the circuit to which I was ap- 
 pointed, relying more on the judgment of experienced 
 ministers, in whom I confided, than on any clear convic- 
 tion of my call to the work ; and when I yielded to their 
 judgment I firmly resolved not to deceive them, and to 
 retire as soon as I should be convinced that I was not called 
 of God, and to conduct myself in such a manner that, if I
 
 WILLIAM M'KENDKEE. 71 
 
 failed, my friends might be satisfied it was not for want of 
 effort on my part, but that their judgment was not well 
 founded. This resolution supported me under many doubts 
 and fears for entering into the work of a travelling preacher 
 neither removed my doubts nor the difficulties that attended 
 my labours. Sustained by a determination to make a full 
 trial, I resorted to fasting and prayer, and waited for those 
 kind friends who had charge and government over me to 
 dismiss me from the work. But I waited in vain. In this 
 state of suspense my reasoning might have terminated in 
 discouraging and ruinous conclusions, had I not been com- 
 forted and supported by the kind and encouraging manner 
 in which I was received by aged and experienced brethren, 
 and by the manifest presence of God in our meetings, which 
 were frequently lively and profitable. Sometimes souls 
 were convicted and converted, which afforded me consid- 
 erable encouragement, as well as the union and communion 
 with my Saviour in private devotion, which he graciously 
 afforded me in the intervals of my very imperfect attempts 
 to preach his gospel. In this way I became satisfied of my 
 call to the ministry, and that I was moving in the line of 
 my duty." 
 
 His next appointment was Cumberland Circuit. At the 
 following Conference (1790) he was sent to Portsmouth 
 Circuit, and the year following to Amelia Circuit. When 
 this year's labours were closed, having served four years in 
 the travelling connexion, he was elected and ordained an 
 elder. His appointment from this Conference was to the 
 Greensville Circuit, and he was placed in charge ; that is, 
 he had the direction of the ministerial work performed on 
 the circuit. Mr. M'Kendree had already taken a position 
 among the preachers of his day, that, considering his short
 
 72 WILLIAM M'KENDKEE. 
 
 period in the work, was most creditable to him. A short 
 time in the ministry was sufficient for his fellow-labourers 
 to discover and acknowledge his noble earnestness and 
 superior abilities as a preacher of "Jesus a/nd the resurrec- 
 tion." 
 
 Mr. M'Kendree remained at his post till the General 
 Conference was to assemble in Baltimore, in November, 
 1792. At that time all the preachers in full connexion 
 were considered members ; now only delegates are elected 
 to represent the mass. This Conference possesses consid- 
 erable historical interest, from an attempt made by one 
 of the members, Mr. O'Kelly, to restrict the power of 
 the bishops in the work of appointing preachers. Mr. 
 O'Kelly was a very popular preacher, who had been 
 presiding elder for a number of years in the southern part 
 of Virginia, and had greatly ingrafted his scheme in the 
 affections of the people, and the younger preachers in that 
 portion of the State. The scheme, after three days spent 
 in strong debates upon its merits, entirely failed. The 
 failure of the project was immediately followed by the 
 withdrawal of Mr. O'Kelly and quite a number of his 
 friends, among whom was young M'Kendree. 
 
 It appears, from a conversation with Mr. M'Kendree, 
 reported in " Smith's Recollections," that the character of 
 Bishop Asbury had been shamefully misrepresented to 
 him by Mr. O'Kelly, and that on this account he obtained 
 leave to travel with the bishop, and, indeed, made it the 
 condition of his remaining in the itinerancy. It is quite 
 needless to say that an intimate acquaintance with the 
 beloved bishop created a confidence and friendship which 
 each succeeding year cemented the more surely, till death, 
 at last, separated them for a few years. His continuance
 
 WILLIAM M'KKNDKEE. 73 
 
 with the bishop was short, for in a few weeks he accepted 
 an appointment to Norfolk and Portsmouth Stations, which 
 were that year united together. 
 
 From this time Mr. M'Kendree devoted himself dili- 
 gently to a comprehensive examination of the rules and 
 discipline drawn up by Mr. Wesley, and adopted at the 
 organization of our Church. This examination convinced 
 him that it was particularly adapted to evangelize all por- 
 tions of the country, and was agreeable to the government 
 and regulations of the primitive Church. From this time 
 forth none used their influence and talents to preserve the 
 government as it was more than he did. 
 
 His stay at Norfolk was not long; for Bishop Asbury 
 removed him to Petersburgh, which place he occupied 
 to the close of the Conference year. As the bishop 
 went south on his annual tour, for the year 1794, he took 
 M'Kendree with him to fill a place on Union Circuit, in 
 the South Carolina Conference. Here he remained only 
 one year, for at the next Conference he was appointed to 
 Bedford Circuit, in the bounds of the Virginia Conference. 
 At the commencement of the third quarter he was removed 
 to Greenbrier Circuit, in the midst of the Alleghany Moun- 
 tains ; and at the end of the same quarter he was transferred 
 to what was called the Little Levels, on the Kanawha River, 
 and the farthest extremity of the Virginia Conference. 
 Surely this was itinerancy in such a manner as would 
 frighten many of his followers in this day ; but such was 
 the zeal of the preachers then, that they delighted in the 
 most self-denying labours. 
 
 His name is found on the printed minutes of 1795, as 
 appointed to Botetourt Circuit. He was in charge of four 
 circuits, and travelled three months on each one of them
 
 74 WILLIAM M'KENDKEE. 
 
 a feature in our work which at the present time has been 
 entirely laid aside. This year's labour was a good intro- 
 duction to his future position as presiding elder. 
 
 At the Conference of 1796 he was appointed presiding 
 elder of Kichmond District, which consisted of five large 
 circuits, lying in the eastern and southern parts of Virginia. 
 The office of presiding elder is one of great responsibility, and 
 at that early day in our history it was one of most arduous 
 duties, next in labours and importance to the bishopric. 
 Presiding elders had to travel over the whole district each 
 quarter, holding a quarterly meeting on each circuit, and 
 preaching many times going and coming, the people 
 always considering it a favour to sit under their preaching. 
 The office, then, required a man of great physical strength, 
 of good or superior preaching talents, and a comprehensive 
 mind, so that all the interests of his district would be cared 
 for according to their relative importance. Such a man 
 was Mr. M'Kendree fully competent for its duties and for 
 its trials. 
 
 He continued to preside over this district three years; 
 but at the close of the first year there were added to it 
 three more circuits, in the extreme western parts of the 
 Conference. These circuits lay in the mountainous regions, 
 where the settlements were as yet few, and the difficulties 
 of travelling very great. His ministry was greatly blessed 
 to the good of the whole district; many sinners were 
 awakened, converted, and added to the Church, and the 
 field of labour was enlarged. 
 
 In 1799 he was removed to the Baltimore Conference, 
 and placed over a large district, containing nine circuits, 
 lying along the Potomac River, in the States of Maryland 
 and Yirginia, and extending from the Alleghany Moun-
 
 WILLIAM M 'KEN DREE. 75 
 
 tains on the west, to the Chesapeake Bay on the east. At 
 the close of the year he was transferred back to his former 
 field of labour, the Kichmond District. This was the last 
 district to which he received an appointment in the East- 
 ern States. 
 
 Mr. M'Kendree had not more than completed the first 
 round on his district, arranging the work, and receiving 
 the congratulations of his old friends, when Bishops Asbury 
 and Whatcoat passed through his district, on their western 
 tour to visit the Conference and circuits west of the Alle- 
 ghany Mountains. Mr. Poythress, who had been in 
 charge of the Kentucky District for some years, was failing 
 both in body and mind. The work was a very important 
 one, lying so far from the centre, and the bishops had 
 selected Mr. M'Kendree to fill the office of presiding 
 elder. 
 
 They immediately opened their designs to him, and he 
 seems readily to have fallen in with them, for in about 
 three hours the whole business was arranged, and they 
 started off on their journey. Mr. M'Kendree says, speak- 
 ing of it at least thirty years after : 
 
 " I was without my money, books, or clothes. These 
 were all at a distance, and I had no time to go after them ; 
 but I was not in debt, therefore unembarrassed. Of mon- 
 eys due me I collected one hundred dollars, bought cloth 
 for a coat, carried it to Holston, and left it with a tailor in 
 the bounds of my new district. The bishops continued 
 their course : my business was to take care of their horses, 
 and wait on them, for they were both infirm old men." 
 
 They passed southward on their journey through Abing- 
 ton, and from thence down the Holston River, into Tennes- 
 see, crossing over into the Valley of Clinch River. They
 
 76 WILLIAM M'KENDKEE. 
 
 reached the station, on the outskirts of the settlements, and 
 forming a company with some others, on Monday, Septem- 
 ber 27, 1800, they began their route direct to Kentucky. 
 They pushed forward with all possible speed, and on Fri- 
 day crossed the Kentucky River. The next day they came 
 to Bethel Academy, in Jessamine County, where there was 
 also one of the largest societies in the West. The weather 
 was very unfavourable, and the bishops were both unwell, 
 especially Bishop Asbury ; but the young men stood the 
 journey with much fortitude. 
 
 The Western Conference, for the year 1800, was held 
 about the first of October, in the Bethel Academy, in Ken- 
 tucky. This is the first Western Conference of which we 
 have any correct minutes preserved, and we will glance at 
 it a moment. It appears from the minutes, that the num- 
 ber of travelling preachers present at the Conference, 
 including the two bishops, was ten. The Conference lasted 
 two days ; two preachers were admitted on trial, one 
 located ; fourteen local, and four travelling ministers were 
 elected and ordained to the office of deacon in the Church. 
 Of those who were present, now, after a period of fifty-one 
 years, two are still living, William Burke and Benjamin 
 Northcot. Two others who were members of the Confer- 
 ence, but not present, are still living, Henry Smith and 
 Thomas Wilkerson. 
 
 Immediately after the adjournment of the Conference, 
 the bishops, M'Kendree, and the preachers whose work lay 
 along this route, made a visit to a great portion of the 
 societies. They passed from the centre of Kentucky, 
 south-westwardly, to Nashville, the capital, of Tennessee, 
 and there they came, for the first time, in contact with a 
 camp-meeting. They travelled on together, preaching and
 
 WILLIAM M'KENDREE. 77 
 
 informing themselves of the moral character and the wants 
 of the country, till they came to Knoxville. After spend- 
 ing a few days there, they parted the bishops to attend 
 the Carolina Conferences, and M'Kendree to commence his 
 " rounds " of quarterly visitation. 
 
 The Kentucky District was composed of thirteen cir- 
 cuits, some of which were temporarily joined together for 
 the convenience of the presiding elder. Of these thirteen 
 circuits, two, Miami and Scioto, lay in the State of Ohio, 
 stretching along the Ohio River about one hundred miles, 
 and reaching back into the interior as far as seventy miles. 
 Six of the circuits lay in the State of Kentucky, three in 
 Tennessee, and two in Virginia. This territory now in- 
 cludes nearly six Conferences, supporting several hundred 
 preachers ; but at that time M'Kendree had but thirteen 
 assistants in traversing the wide field. Nothing but the 
 deepest devotion to the glorious labour of salvation could 
 have sustained them in their arduous work. 
 
 Mr. M'Kendree entered upon his western labours with 
 all the ardour of his energetic nature, and the influence of 
 his example was soon felt in the ranks of his itinerant 
 brethren ; for they saw that a leader of such activity and 
 energy would never be content with any sluggish move- 
 ment in his ranks. 
 
 The first year that M'Kendree spent in Kentucky was 
 one of great labour and great success. The Church was 
 no longer languid ; a new spirit seemed to be infused into 
 her, and victory perched upon her banners wherever they 
 were elevated. Souls were converted, and societies estab- 
 lished in everjj new settlement. 
 
 In the summer of 1802 Mr. M'Kendree made his first 
 visit to the State of Ohio, in company with Mr. Henry
 
 Y8 WILLIAM M'KKNDKEE. 
 
 Smith, who was then on Miami and Scioto Circuits, occu- 
 pying all the south-western part of Ohio, the region that 
 includes the first Methodist church in Ohio, the ruins of 
 which still remain, a striking contrast with the hundreds 
 of commodious Methodist chapels now sprinkled over the 
 State. They went over a portion of the ground, preaching 
 near Hillsborough, and then passing down to Gatch's, on 
 the Little Miami River, where the quarterly meeting was 
 to be held. 
 
 " Our worthy M'Kendree preached one of his soul-stir- 
 ring and heart-searching sermons to a large congregation 
 for that country. It was a time of power and love a soul- 
 reviving season ; and some shouted aloud for joy. To this 
 meeting many came from far some on foot, others on 
 horseback ; but on Sunday, the 20th, (June,) the congrega- 
 tion was gathered under the trees, where a stand and a few 
 seats had been prepared. Those who had no seats stood 
 or sat on the ground. M'Kendree preached one of his in- 
 genious and overwhelming sermons, from Jeremiah viii, 22. 
 He took hold of the doctrine of unconditional election and 
 reprobation, and held it up in its true character. His 
 arguments were unanswerable ; and such was the divine 
 influence attending the word, that he carried the whole 
 congregation with him. The very place appeared to be 
 shaken with the power of God. The people fell in every 
 direction." 
 
 This meeting resulted in much good. The work in 
 Ohio, from a variety of causes over which the circuit 
 preacher had no control, had been for some time in a lan- 
 guid state ; but from this meeting they wer,e roused up to 
 a redoubling of their diligence, and the cause began to 
 prosper. But this is not an isolated instance of M'Ken-
 
 WILLIAM M'KENDREE. 79 
 
 dree's success. His approach to the quarterly meetings 
 was hailed by both preachers and people with delight, and 
 the spirit of revival seemed to follow in his footsteps. 
 
 At the close of M'Kendree's second year on the western 
 work it had become greatly enlarged ; seven new circuits 
 had been formed and added to the district, and the district 
 itself divided into three, M'Kendree still presiding on the 
 one including the most of the State of Kentucky. 
 
 The mere handful of members, scattered here and there 
 in the settlements, now numbered at least eight thousand, 
 having increased more than five thousand in the two years. 
 The little Conference of twelve members had more than 
 doubled its numbers. No small part of the impetus which 
 had been given to the western work was through the 
 preaching and superior wisdom of M'Kendree, as the pre- 
 siding elder. 
 
 The Conference of 1804 met at Mount Garrison, in Ken- 
 tucky. It was the design of both the bishops to be present, 
 and they set out for the West by the way of Pittsburgh, 
 Bishop Asbury in the advance. He was taken down 
 with bilious fever in Green County, Pennsylvania, and so 
 severe was his affliction that Bishop Whatcoat, when he 
 came to him, was compelled to remain and nurse him for 
 more than a month. After his sickness they started on 
 together, but the riding of less than a hundred miles con- 
 vinced Bishop Asbury that it was impossible to go on. 
 Bishop Whatcoat, therefore, proceeded alone, but did not 
 reach the seat of Conference until it was adjourned. The 
 Conference had met, and placed M'Kendree in the chair, 
 where he had presided with a dignity and efficiency simi- 
 lar to that which marked his course when it became his 
 regular duty.
 
 80 WILLIAM M'KENDREE. 
 
 It is quite impossible to give a circumstantial account of 
 the labours of M'Kendree in the West. It is probably 
 enough to say concerning his regular employment, that he 
 gave great efficiency to the presiding eldership. He did 
 not simply as much as his fellow-labourers expected of him, 
 as belonging to his office, but he was in labours more 
 abundant than any one of them. At the Conference of 
 1805 he was removed to the Cumberland District. This 
 district lay between the Cumberland and Tennessee Elvers, 
 and west of the mountain ranges, and was composed of 
 eight circuits, one of which was in the State of Illinois. 
 The work of the Lord continued to increase in every direc- 
 tion. The year following the missionaries penetrated into 
 Missouri. 
 
 In the summer of 1807 M'Kendree resolved to visit these 
 new fields of labour, and started off in company with two 
 of the preachers. They crossed the Ohio River from the 
 lower part of Kentucky, into the State now called Illinois, 
 but then forming a part of the great North-west Territory. 
 The place where they crossed the river was near the pres- 
 ent site of Shawneetown. Hence they proceeded west to 
 Kaskaskia, upon the Kaskaskia River, preaching at every 
 place where they could find any people to listen to the 
 word of salvation. 
 
 The journey had its difficulties ; but when the work of the 
 Lord prospered the travellers counted all their losses and 
 sufferings great gain. They had to encamp in the woods 
 almost every night; cross many rapid and dangerous 
 streams, where the horse had to swim with both rider and 
 baggage ; but a season of prayer, and communion with 
 the Most High, made them quite forget their toil and ex- 
 posure. It is said that after Mr. M'Kendree had preached,
 
 WILLIAM M'KENDREE. 81 
 
 with his usual ability, at one of his appointments, a gentle- 
 man said to him: "Sir, I am convinced that there is a 
 divine influence in your religion ; for though I have resided 
 here some years, and have done all within my power to 
 gain the confidence and good-will of my neighbours, you 
 have already many more friends here than I have." Mr. 
 M'Kendree spent some weeks in the two States, and then 
 returned, much encouraged, to his district. 
 
 The Conference of 1807, which was held in the town of 
 Chillicothe, Ohio, elected him a delegate to the ensuing 
 General Conference, which was to be held in Baltimore, 
 in May, 1808. It was then that his labours in the West 
 closed, and it may be well to glance at the increase of the 
 Church during the time in which he was connected 
 with it. 
 
 The field of labour had grown from one district into 
 five, and it now reached from Natchez on the south to 
 Marietta on the north, from East Tennessee on the east 
 to Missouri on the west. Instead of having only eight 
 men, as at the beginning, to stand up and proclaim 
 the gospel, as many as sixty-six were proclaiming the 
 glad tidings to the western settlements; and not a few 
 of these were men of strong minds, who have since 
 occupied important positions in our Church. The mem- 
 bership increased in the same ratio; less than three 
 thousand names were enrolled when he entered on the 
 work, but now there were more than sixteen thousand. 
 And there was something quite as encouraging as this; 
 the work, mighty as it was, was seemingly but com- 
 menced, and they could even then, with some certainty, 
 prophesy that this region was to become the stronghold 
 
 of Methodism. 
 
 6
 
 82 WILLIAM M'KKNDRKK. 
 
 The General Conference of 1808 was one of much im- 
 portance, especially as having provided for the regular 
 delegated Conference, and imposed the restrictive rules 
 which are now part of the constitution of our Church. 
 
 The death of the venerable Bishop Whatcoat, and the 
 absence from the continent of Dr. Coke, left Bishop Asbury 
 alone to superintend the whole work. He was himself 
 growing too old for the performance of much labour, and 
 it was evident to all that some assistance must be given 
 him in the exercise of his yearly toils. At first a motion 
 was made to restrict the presiding elder's office, and elect 
 seven additional bishops ; but this was lost by a large vote. 
 The effort was then made to secure two bishops ; but at 
 last a motion prevailed to elect and consecrate only one. 
 
 When Mr. M'Kendree came to the General Conference 
 he was unknown to almost all the younger members, both 
 by name and reputation. He had been so far removed 
 from the centre of the work that he had to some extent 
 become a stranger to most of the eastern preachers, and 
 they were not in the least aware of his magnificent powers 
 as an orator and divine. Indeed, his elder brethren, who 
 had not heard him for seven or eight years, were hardly 
 prepared for the improvement he had made during his 
 self-denying labours in the West; but on the Sabbath 
 before the election for a bishop was to take place, he 
 was appointed to preach in the morning at the Light- 
 street Church. 
 
 Bishop Asbury, who was present, was heard to say that 
 the sermon would make him a bishop, and his prophecy 
 was true ; for on the 12th of May, the day that the resolu- 
 tion passed to elect and consecrate an additional bishop, he 
 was elected. The number of votes cast was one hundred
 
 WILLIAM M'KENDREE. 
 
 and twenty -eight ; of those Mr. M'Kendree had ninety- 
 five, the remainder being divided between E. Cooper and 
 Jesse Lee ; it was the largest majority by which any 
 bishop has been elected, except Bishop Asbury. He was 
 consecrated to the office of bishop, or superintendent of the 
 Methodist Episcopal Church, on the 17th of May, 1808, in 
 the Light-street Church, by Bishop Asbury, assisted by 
 Rev. Messrs. Garrettson, Bruce, Lee, and Ware, who were 
 the oldest and most prominent elders in the ministry at 
 that time. 
 
 Bishop M'Kendree immediately entered upon the duties 
 of his office with that zeal and diligence which had exalted 
 him in the eyes of his brethren ; and Bishop Asbury felt 
 himself greatly relieved, both in the active duties and 
 responsibilities which had been resting upon him since the 
 death of Bishop Whatcoat. Bishop Asbury remarks, in his 
 journal: "The burden is now borne by two pair of shoul- 
 ders instead of one ; the care is cast upon two hearts and 
 heads." 
 
 For the first year of Bishop M'Kendree's exercise of the 
 episcopal office he was almost continually with Bishop As- 
 bury, who introduced him to the work, the Conferences, 
 and the preachers. Their route took in nearly all parts 
 of the United States, and a part of Canada, and required 
 them to be moving in all seasons of the year. They visited, 
 prayed, and preached, from Maine to Georgia, along the 
 sea-coast ; on the north and west they skimmed along the 
 lakes, the Ohio and Mississippi Rivers ; and in the inte- 
 rior their steps were known among the damp swamps, and 
 rich prairies, and magnificent mountains of the Alleghany 
 ranges. The roads, in the best seasons, were but poor in 
 the wet seasons miserable. They lodged sometimes in the
 
 84 WILLIAM M'KENDREE. 
 
 houses of the rich, but quite as often in the log-hut or cabin, 
 and not unfrequently they camped out in the woods. 
 
 The following extract from Bishop Asbury's journal con- 
 tains a lively picture of the situation and thoughts of these 
 two devoted and talented servants of God : " My flesh 
 sinks under labour. We are riding in a poor thirty-dollar 
 chaise, in partnership two bishops of us ; but it must be 
 confessed that it tallies well with the weight of our purses. 
 What bishops ! Well but we have great news, and we 
 have great times; and each Western, Southern, together 
 with the Yirginia Conference, will have one thousand souls 
 truly converted to God. Is not this an equivalent for a 
 light purse ? And are we not well paid for starving and 
 toil ? Yes, glory to God !" 
 
 The General Conference of 1812 met in New- York, and 
 was composed of members from eight Conferences of men 
 whose Christian character and talents had placed them fore- 
 most among their brethren. The growing state of the field 
 seemed to call for an addition to the superintendency ; but 
 after a full interchange of thoughts it was considered best 
 to let the subject rest as it was. Bishop Asbury had been 
 meditating a visit to his native land ; but at the suggestion 
 of his brethren he relinquished the idea, and remained at 
 his post in the itinerancy as efficiently as his age would 
 allow. 
 
 Within a month after the adjournment of the General 
 Conference, the United States declared war against Great 
 Britain, and the hostilities occupied the minds of the people, 
 greatly to the injury of the work of the Lord. Bishop As- 
 bury continued, however, to attend the Conferences, in 
 company with his colleague, upon whom devolved by far 
 the greater part of the labour ; yet the presence and coun-
 
 WILLIAM M'KENDREE. 85 
 
 sel of the senior was at all times a source of the highest 
 gratification. The bishops pressed on together, both east 
 and west of the mountains, and to the south, where the 
 work was rapidly extending. So great was their energy 
 and activity, that in the tour of the year 1812 they trav- 
 elled over six thousand miles in eight months, attending 
 the sessions of nine Conferences, and assisting at ten 
 camp-meetings. This was herculean labour, especially 
 if we consider how poor were the facilities of travel in 
 those days. 
 
 The year 1813 was marked with much distress along the 
 lines between the Canadas and the United States, on account 
 of the war, and it aifected the societies to some extent. But 
 it did not stop the progress of the work elsewhere, and the 
 bishops were pleased to see that there was a great increase 
 in the members for the year. Bishop Asbury continued to 
 grow weaker, and the more duties fell upon the shoulders 
 of Bishop M'Kendree, of whom he spoke in terms of the 
 highest eulogy. 
 
 The summer of 1814 found the bishops quite inefficient. 
 Bishop Asbury was seized with inflammatory fever at 
 Bethel, in New-Jersey, and for a while his life was de- 
 spaired of. For twelve weeks there was no record in his 
 journal, yet he was able to take up his itinerant course, 
 and be at Chillicothe, Ohio, by the latter part of August. 
 His progress, however, was by slow stages, and with much 
 pain. 
 
 In the "West he found Bishop M'Kendree confined to the 
 house, having been thrown from his horse, and so badly 
 injured that his usefulness for the whole season was de- 
 stroyed. This derangement, however, was but a temporary 
 one, and as soon as. the bishops were able they passed on
 
 86 WILLIAM M'KENDREE. 
 
 for the South, and presided at the South Carolina Con- 
 ference. 
 
 From this time forth the labour of the superintendency 
 was confined principally to Bishop M'Kendree, for Asbury 
 never recovered from the sickness of which we have spoken. 
 "His countenance was fallen and pale; his limbs trem- 
 bled, and his whole frame bore marks of decay. Indeed, 
 there was something in his appearance which, while it 
 indicated a 'soul full of glory and of God,' struck the 
 beholder with an awe which may be better felt than 
 described." 
 
 But he was generally at his post, and would be found at 
 the Conference, taking his accustomed seat, and preaching 
 one sermon ; but beyond this his labours were few, except 
 the judicious counsel from his lips. The administration of 
 Bishop M'Kendree was highly satisfactory, both to the 
 preachers and the membership, and he had already ac- 
 quired high standing in his office. His energy and self- 
 sacrificing spirit animated those around him with the zeal 
 which is necessary to the itinerant minister. His splendid 
 preaching talent was a model for their own ; and his clear, 
 cool judgment, was a worthy example of the manner to 
 rule in justice and wisdom. 
 
 The year 1816 opened graciously, for peace was restored 
 to the country ; and although the religious world had not 
 yet recovered from the calamity of war, yet the prospect 
 was encouraging that a general revival of religion was 
 about taking place. It was, however, a year marked in 
 the history of our denomination as one of grief, for it 
 marks the death of the great and holy Asbury. 
 
 None felt this loss more than Bishop M'Kendree but 
 not because of the additional labour imposed upon him :
 
 WILLIAM M'KENDHEE. 87 
 
 tliis was slight, as it only lacked a month of General 
 Conference, when the vacant post could be filled. It 
 should be mentioned also that Dr. Coke had died on 
 the 3d of May, 1814. This left the whole responsi- 
 bility of the episcopacy resting on Bishop M'Kendree. 
 
 The General Conference of 1816 met at Baltimore, and 
 found the Church with only one bishop, and his health 
 greatly impaired, although he was still able to perform the 
 duties of his office. Bishop M'Kendree opened the Con- 
 ference with an address, in which he set forth the general 
 state of the work, and the necessity of making some addi- 
 tions to the superintendency. 
 
 The committee to whom the latter portion of the 
 address was referred, reported with promptness, and 
 recommended that two additional bishops be elected 
 and consecrated. Accordingly, on May 14th, the Con- 
 ference proceeded to an election, and Enoch George, of 
 the Baltimore Conference, and Robert R. Roberts, of the 
 Philadelphia Conference, were elected, and in due time 
 they were consecrated, and entered upon their work. It 
 is only necessary to state, that the new bishops were 
 men whose piety, talents, and particular qualification for 
 the office were well known, and who received the confi- 
 dence of the whole Church. Their subsequent course, as 
 long as they lived,- showed that the Church had acted 
 wisely in their election. 
 
 The General Conference had established the Mississippi 
 and Missouri Conferences, making the whole number 
 eleven, and these under the care of three bishops. It had 
 again been urged by some that it would be for the best to 
 divide the work and appoint a bishop to each portion, but 
 the majority were in favour of the itinerant superinten-
 
 88 WILLIAM M'KENDREE. 
 
 dency ; and the bishops arranged their labours so that eacn 
 one of them would be present at each Conference at least 
 once in four years. Therefore we find the bishops pursu- 
 ing this plan, as far as their health and other existing cir- 
 cumstances would allow. 
 
 As we have already stated, the health of Bishop M'Ken- 
 dree had begun to fail. The severe toil of the eight years 
 that he spent in Kentucky had slowly but surely been 
 working on his constitution, and now it was seen that 
 his labours must be restricted to some extent, for he was 
 no longer able to render that efficient service which the 
 Church so much desired ; yet he moved about from Con- 
 ference to Conference as his strength would allow, giving 
 by his presence a new impetus to the work in every direc- 
 tion. His colleagues were both active and zealous, and 
 the government of the Church was administered with 
 fidelity. The Conferences were attended with punctuality, 
 and the union, peace, and prosperity of the Church were 
 generally secured and promoted, while their services were 
 highly appreciated by the Church. 
 
 In the fall of 1818 Bishop M'Kendree set out for the 
 "West, in company with Joshua Soule, the book-agent, 
 intending to pay especial attention to the extreme western 
 Conferences and the Indian Missions. He was very weak 
 indeed, but he pushed forward with his accustomed energy 
 until he grew so feeble that he was compelled to make a 
 halt. His affliction was very sore, and lasted a considera- 
 ble period ; but as soon as it was possible for him to pro- 
 ceed on his tour, he went, pressing on through a host of 
 difficulties that would have disheartened any other man. 
 He was so weak as to be compelled to move very slowly, 
 and he had to be lifted from and into his wagon. At one
 
 WILLIAM M'KENDKEE. 89 
 
 of the Conferences he had to be taken from his bed and 
 supported by two of the preachers as he performed the 
 ceremonies of ordination. 
 
 He continued passing southward till he was at the last 
 station in his journey. On March 5th he preached in 
 New-Orleans, to a large audience, from one of his favourite 
 texts, " God is a spirit : and they that worship him must 
 worship him in spirit and in truth." His stay there was 
 short, when he turned his face to the North, that he might 
 fill his engagements to meet a part of the western Confer- 
 ences. As he was coming northward he sent the following 
 letter to the editors of the Methodist Magazine. It graphi- 
 cally describes western itinerant life at that period : 
 
 " CAMPED IN THE CHOCTAW NATION, April 17, 1819. 
 
 " On the first day of last November, I sank under the 
 affliction which was pressing me down while in company 
 with brother Soule, in the State of Ohio. 
 
 " After a sore affliction, I left the neighbourhood where 
 I had been confined, in a very feeble state, and travelled 
 about one hundred miles, and continued to speak occasion- 
 ally, so that I have visited New-Orleans, and partially 
 attended to the Churches in this State. For a few weeks 
 I have gained strength considerably. It is the opinion of 
 my physician that I should go to the North for the estab- 
 lishment of my health; and having a favourable oppor- 
 tunity, I set out in a little wagon, from brother Gibson's 
 last Monday, in company with brothers J. Lane and 
 B. Edge. 
 
 "We have camped near companies of drunken Indians 
 been disturbed to see their situation, and incommoded 
 with their visits during the night; but never injured or
 
 90 WILLIAM M'KENDREE. 
 
 insulted ; but mercifully preserved so far through our difii- 
 cult journey, and from night to night blessed with the 
 privilege of camping peaceably in the woods a situation 
 very favourable for contemplation. "We expect to reach 
 the settlements eight days from this, at our rate of travel- 
 ling. I intend, if the Lord will, to attend the Ohio Con- 
 ference next August. I would be with you in ]STew-York, 
 if I could ; but here I sit, at the root of a tree, near the 
 line between the Choctaw and Chickasaw nations, writing 
 to you, while brother Lane is boiling ham and making tea 
 for dinner. Some of our company were much alarmed 
 last night by the sound of drunken Indians ; but it proved 
 to be fear where no fear was. We rested peaceably in the 
 woods near an Indian hut. 
 
 " This is the fourth day since I commenced writing this 
 letter, and I have progressed as time and strength would 
 permit. We have lain in the woods every night, except 
 one rainy night we were taken into the cabin of a slave 
 belonging to an Indian, and were comforted. It has been 
 a journey of difficulties; but no serious obstruction has 
 happened to us. The Lord is merciful and good to us. 
 My best love to Bishop Roberts, and respects to all. We 
 expect to reach white settlements next Saturday, if the 
 Lord permits. Yours affectionately." 
 
 The opening of the General Conference of 1820 found 
 Bishop M'Kendree at his post, but in much weakness; 
 however, he opened the first session with reading the 
 Scriptures, singing, and prayer, as usual. After the open- 
 ing services he informed the Conference that, on account 
 of his weakness and ill health, he would not be able to 
 discharge the duties of chairman, but would take occasion
 
 WILLIAM M'KENDKEE. 91 
 
 to assist his colleagues in the responsible business of the 
 sessions, as his health would permit. At a subsequent 
 session he presented an address, in which he called atten- 
 tion to those subjects which he thought claimed especially 
 their attention. The Conference took every possible occa- 
 sion to show him their sympathy and respect, which was a 
 source of no small consolation to him, and he properly 
 expressed his gratification for these manifestations of 
 regard and love. 
 
 The number of Annual Conferences was now increased 
 to twelve; these were divided between the two other 
 bishops, Bishop M'Kendree, as we have seen, being 
 released from effective labour. His colleagues entered 
 upon their work with much zeal, and Bishop M'Ken- 
 dree was not backward in lending them all the assist- 
 ance in his power. He had the missionary department 
 especially assigned to himself, in which he took a deep 
 and absorbing interest; and by his intimate acquaint- 
 ance with all parts of the work, was very able to direct 
 the means and energies of the missionary society to the 
 right points. 
 
 His bad health did not keep him from visiting the whole 
 work. During one season he would be found in the East- 
 ern and Middle States ; shortly afterward his steps could 
 be found about the western and southern waters, passing 
 along slowly, visiting many families, conversing freely 
 with them on religion, and supplicating the throne of 
 grace in their behalf. Now and then, especially on the 
 Sabbath day, he preached to a crowd who sat rejoicing to 
 be the hearers of the word as it fell from his lips. He 
 paid special attention to the West, for he felt himself more 
 identified with that portion of the work than any other, it
 
 92 WILLIAM M'KENDREE. 
 
 having been his field of labour when he was elected to the 
 episcopal office. 
 
 The General Conference of 1824, at Baltimore, found 
 Bishop M'Kendree present, and conducting as usual its 
 opening ceremonies with singing and prayer. 
 
 No less than five new Conferences were set off by this 
 General Conference, increasing the labour of the bishops 
 very materially. The committee on episcopacy, therefore, 
 in presenting their report, recommended that two new 
 bishops be elected and consecrated; and the Conference 
 elected Joshua Soule, of the Baltimore, and Elijah Hed- 
 ding, of the New-England Conference. Bishop M'Ken- 
 dree was able to preach the consecration sermon, and act 
 as the officiating bishop in the consecration. 
 
 The Committee on Episcopacy also proposed the follow- 
 ing resolution, which passed unanimously : 
 
 "That Bishop M'Kendree be, and hereby is, respect- 
 fully requested to continue to aiford what aid he can to 
 the episcopacy, consistently with his age and infirmities, 
 when and where it may best suit his own convenience; 
 and that the provisions of the last General Conference for 
 meeting his contingent expenses be continued." 
 
 After the session of Conference, Bishops M'Kendree and 
 Soule set out together, and made a tour of the western 
 work ; and paying a special visit to the Wyandott Mission, 
 entering into a thorough examination of its whole tem- 
 poral and spiritual arrangements. Contrary to the expec- 
 tations of all, Bishop M'Kendree's health began to im- 
 prove, and he was able to enter more fully on that labour 
 in which he desired to spend and be spent. 
 
 Although the health of the bishop was greatly improved, 
 it would not allow him to perform the service of an effect-
 
 WILLIAM M'KENDREE. 1)3 
 
 ive officer. He was too far advanced in years ever to 
 recover tlie strength and activity which had marked the 
 years of his vigorous manhood, and the Church could only 
 look for a gradual decline, at least in his physical powers, 
 till he was freed from the sufferings of the body. It was 
 of great benefit to any Conference to have him present at 
 its seat, even if he was absent a great part of the time from 
 the Conference room ; for the most unbounded confidence 
 was placed in his judgment and impartiality. 
 
 Bishop M'Kendree was present at the General Confer- 
 ence of 1828, at Pittsburgh, and opened the services, as 
 had been his custom to do since the death of Asbury ; and 
 it was gratifying to see that his prospect for length of days 
 was better than it had been for some years. The bishops 
 set forth in their address, that " during the last four years 
 it has pleased the great Head of the Church to continue 
 his heavenly benediction on our Zion. The work has been 
 greatly extended ; many new circuits and districts have 
 been formed in different parts of our vast field of labour ; 
 but yet there is room, and pressing calls for much greater 
 enlargement are constantly made. 
 
 "The great and extensive revivals of religion which we 
 have experienced the last three years, through almost 
 every part of the work, furnish additional proof 'that 
 God's design in raising up the preachers called Methodists, 
 in America, was to reform the continent, and spread Scrip- 
 ture holiness over these lands.'" 
 
 The labour in the episcopacy was becoming so burden- 
 some that it seemed proper to increase the number of 
 bishops, or refrain from adding to their labours. Bishops 
 M'Kendree, Roberts, and Soule presented the following 
 paper to the Conference :
 
 94 WILLIAM M'KENDKEE. 
 
 " Such is the debility of several of the bishops, and such 
 the extent and weight of the episcopal charge, that we 
 think it would be incompatible with the present state of 
 things, and highly improper, to increase the labours of the 
 general superintendents, by constituting any new Confer- 
 ence under the existing circumstances, and that it ought 
 not to be done without the concurrence of a majority of 
 the bishops." This failed, however, to effect the end 
 desired, for, at the instance of the Committee on the Bound- 
 aries of Conferences, the Oneida Conference was formed, 
 making in all nineteen Conferences to be visited by the 
 five bishops. 
 
 Bishop M'Kendree, in bidding farewell to the members 
 of the General Conference of 1828, said to more than one 
 that his days were so rapidly drawing to a close that they 
 must not be surprised if they saw his face no more. He 
 had presided but little during the Conference, but his 
 presence was felt, and his counsel did much to prepare, 
 them for the storm then breaking about their heads. After 
 the adjournment of Conference he proceeded slowly to his 
 labour, for itinerancy had become as it were a necessity of 
 his being, and his health appeared much better when he 
 was travelling than when remaining still. 
 
 The commencement of the year 1830 found him at New- 
 Orleans, from which place, in February, he wrote to the 
 Book Agents at New- York, in part as follows : 
 
 " I intend to stay here some ten or twelve days, then 
 take steamboat to Bayou Sara, then land and visit the 
 Churches as extensively as I can to Natchez. Thence by 
 steamboat to Nashville, by the last of March. From Nash- 
 ville, I intend to resume my course of visiting the Churches 
 through the lower part of Kentucky, Indiana, and Illinois.
 
 WILLIAM M'KENDKEE. 95 
 
 Thence return with the Conferences from the West, across 
 the mountains, and visit the Atlantic States and Conferences. 
 
 " From Philadelphia, where brother Emory left me last 
 spring, I set out to visit the Churches as extensively as ^ 
 could, through Virginia, Pennsylvania, Ohio, Kentucky, 
 and Tennessee, where I expected to take up my abode 
 during the winter. I have attended three Annual Confer- 
 ences, several camp, and ten or twelve quarterly meetings. 
 I have seen great and very good times, and rejoiced in the 
 prosperity of Zion. For want of a steamboat I failed to 
 attend the Mississippi Conference as I intended." 
 
 How plainly a soul full of undying energy, and an . un- 
 conquerable zeal, is manifested in this plan of labour. He 
 was able to accomplish only a part of it. During the 
 spring and summer after his return from the South, he 
 was not able to visit very extensively, but he attended as 
 many popular meetings, and preached as often as his 
 strength would allow. He attended the Kentucky Confer- 
 ence, at Russellville, about the middle of October ; and he 
 appears to have now laid out a plan of visitation which 
 would include the South Carolina and all the Atlantic and 
 northern Conferences. His design was to proceed by slow 
 stages from one to the other, and complete the design by 
 the sitting of the General Conference of 1832, which was 
 to meet at Philadelphia. 
 
 Those of his friends who were acquainted with the pre- 
 carious state of his health, readily perceived that his 
 physical powers would not admit of such an attempt ; but 
 as his whole soul was seemingly absorbed in its accomplish- 
 ment, they were willing to test his strength. They there- 
 fore advised him to pay a visit to the approaching session 
 of the Holston Conference, which would test his ability for
 
 96 WILLIAM M'KENDREE. 
 
 the more arduous tour. To this plan he yielded with the 
 greatest pleasure. 
 
 The distance from Russellville, Ky., to Ebenezer, Green 
 County, Tenn., the seat of Conference, was between three 
 and four hundred miles, the greater part of it a rough road, 
 over the Cumberland Mountains. The tour was com- 
 menced with many hopes of a happy completion ; but 
 before they arrived at Knoxville, it was easily perceived 
 that he was sinking, and fears were expressed that it was 
 probably his last journey. But he urged them on, in the 
 midst of great suiferings, not a murmur escaping from his 
 lips. They pushed on, and he was so weak that his travel- 
 ling companion was compelled to lift him into and out of 
 his carriage. Often, while engaged in these kind tasks, his 
 eyes would fill with tears at the sight of the beloved bishop ; 
 but only a smile of holy resignation sat on the face of the 
 quiet sufferer. 
 
 The bishop reached the seat of Conference on the second 
 day of the session, but was unable to attend to any portion 
 of the business ; indeed he visited the Conference room only 
 once, and then remained only a few moments. The greater 
 part of the session he was closely confined to his bed, and 
 it was only at the close of the Conference that he was able 
 to sit up. 
 
 Calling upon some of his old and long-tried friends, he 
 laid before them his situation, and asked their advice upon 
 his future course. They assured him, that, as far as they 
 were capable of judging, it was impossible for him to 
 accomplish his contemplated tour, and, therefore, it was 
 advisable for him to return by slow stages to the vicinity 
 of Nashville, and spend the winter among his friends there. 
 This advice commended itself to his own judgment ; for he
 
 WILLIAM M'KKNDREE. 1)7 
 
 replied with promptness, "I approve your judgment, and 
 submit." Yet they saw the tears flow from his eyes, when 
 he thus had to relinquish his design so fully was his heart 
 enlisted in the great work of salvation. 
 
 The day following the adjournment of the Conference 
 the fearful return journey was commenced; for it was to 
 be one unmingled scene of suffering to the body, although 
 the soul within that frail tenement was full of patience and 
 joy in the Holy Ghost. The slightest motion of the car- 
 riage out of its usual course gave him acute pain. Yet 
 their way lay over rough and rocky roads, and the season 
 was advanced, when the roads w r ere in their worst condition. 
 On the way they were compelled to travel through heavy 
 and protracted falls of rain, sleet, and snow. Nothing but 
 the most imperious necessity would have suggested such a 
 journey, and nothing but unparalleled patience and energy 
 could have performed it ; but they pressed onward until he 
 was safely lodged with his brother, Dr. M'Kendree, near 
 Gallatin, in Sumner County, Tennessee. 
 
 The kind attention and quiet of his brother's home re- 
 stored his health to a considerable extent ; and as soon as 
 the roads began to improve, in the spring of 1831, he made 
 preparation for an extended tour, which should bring him 
 to the General Conference of the following year. Leaving 
 his winter home, he travelled by slow stages through a 
 portion of the States of Kentucky and Ohio, attending 
 quite a number of quarterly and camp-meetings, visiting 
 as many societies as possible, and preaching as often as his 
 strength would admit. The power of endurance continued, 
 and he was able to cross the Alleghany Mountains in the 
 fall. He passed the winter in Baltimore and its immediate 
 vicinity. 
 
 r
 
 98 WILLIAM M'KENDBEE. 
 
 In the latter part of March he passed on, in much weak- 
 ness, to Philadelphia, the seat of the General Conference. 
 There he lodged in the family of his old and well-tried 
 friend, Dr. Sargent ; and all that kindness and unremitting 
 attention could do for his case was cheerfully done. He 
 was, however, very feeble, and was not able to be present 
 and open the first session, which duty devolved on Bishop 
 Soule. He visited the Conference room as often as his 
 strength would allow. 
 
 The Conference continued him in his supernumerary 
 relation with an expression of their high regard. Indeed, 
 all the members seemed to vie with each other in manifest- 
 ing their affection for him. When the General Conference 
 was about to close, he took leave of the preachers, expect- 
 ing to meet them no more until they should sit down 
 together in his Father's kingdom. Dr. Bangs says : " Like 
 a patriarch in the midst of his family, with his head silvered 
 over with the frosts of seventy-five winters, and a counte- 
 nance beaming with intelligence and good-will, he delivered 
 his valedictory remarks, which are remembered with lively 
 emotions. Rising from his seat to take his departure the 
 day before the Conference adjourned, he halted for a mo- 
 ment, leaning on his staff; with faltering lips, his eyes 
 swimming with tears, he said : ' My brethren and children, 
 love one another. Let all things be done without strife or 
 vain-glory, and strive to keep the unity of the Spirit in the 
 bonds of peace.' He then spread forth his trembling hands, 
 and lifting his eyes to ward the heavens, pronounced, with fal- 
 tering and affectionate accents, the apostolic benediction." 
 
 They all gazed upon his bowed and feeble form as he 
 passed from their midst, and felt but too fearful forebodings 
 that he was present hi this situation for the last time.
 
 WILLIAM M'KENDREE. 09 
 
 Prayers and tears marked his exit, but there was joy in his 
 heart the joy of a weary labourer who feels that the sun 
 lias well-nigh approached the horizon, and that its setting 
 will bring him the sweetest repose. 
 
 Immediately after the General Conference Bishop 
 M'Kendree returned to Baltimore and rested a few weeks, 
 enjoying the conversation and society of his old friends, 
 with whom, in years before, he had spent many pleasant 
 hours of religious communion. He bade them farewell 
 at last, and set his face westward. He pushed on as fast 
 as his bodily strength would permit, crossing the moun- 
 tains for the last time. His route was much like those 
 which he had taken in the days of his strength and man- 
 hood. He passed through the western part of Pennsylva- 
 nia, along the northern part of Virginia, through Ohio and 
 Kentucky, into Tennessee, where he spent the remainder 
 of the year. During the latter part of his journey he be- 
 came very feeble, and it was found necessary to fix a bed 
 in his carriage on which he might lie down, for he was 
 unable to sit upon the seat. 
 
 The following year he was not quite as strong as usual, 
 and therefore he was not found far from home ; but he was 
 quite efficient in labours in "West Tennessee. He would 
 visit many societies, full of the old itinerant spirit, and 
 preach with an ability which astonished all his hearers; 
 for his sermons were rich in thought and illustration, and 
 in the power and demonstration of the Spirit. 
 
 In January, 1834, with an improved state of health, he 
 made a southern tour, visiting Natchez, New-Orleans, and 
 Woodville, passing from these various points on a steam- 
 boat. He preached on board the boat, and in the several 
 places he visited, with an energy and efficiency that re-
 
 100 WILLIAM M'KENDKEE. 
 
 minded his hearers of his former years. In the spring of 
 this year he returned to Nashville, and spent the whole 
 summer in travelling through Tennessee, visiting and 
 preaching in different places. He attended the session of 
 the Tennessee Conference, in Lebanon, in the early part of 
 November. This was the last time that he was present at 
 the session of an Annual Conference, and he closed his 
 labours with an affecting address. 
 
 Returning to Nashville, he preached his last sermon 
 there, in the new church, on Sabbath, November 23d : 
 this sermon was reported from his lips, and formed the 
 first number of the Western Methodist Preacher. Bishop 
 Soule, speaking of this, his last public service, says, 
 feelingly : 
 
 " Here that penetrating, yet pleasant voice, which had 
 been heard with delight by listening thousands, in almost 
 all the populous cities of the United States, and which had 
 sounded forth the glad tidings of salvation in the cabins of 
 the poor on the remote frontier, or to numerous multitudes 
 gathered together in the forests of the western territories, 
 and which savage tribes had heard proclaiming to them 
 the unsearchable riches of Christ, died away to be heard 
 no more. Here he finished the ministration of the words 
 of eternal life, and closed his public testimony for the truth 
 of the revelation of God." 
 
 Immediately after this effort his health declined much 
 below its usually feeble state ; and showing no signs of 
 recovery, he concluded, in the latter part of December, 
 to visit his brother, Dr. James M'Kendree, in Sumner 
 County. He reached the place of his destination about 
 Christmas. 
 
 Although the feebleness of age seemed to be his chief
 
 WILLIAM M'KENDREE. 101 
 
 affliction, he was not without bodily pain. The forefinger 
 of his right hand became affected singularly by a swelling 
 where he held his pen while writing. This became ex- 
 ceedingly painful, affecting especially the back part of his 
 head, and when submitted to medical treatment it mocked 
 all the skill of the physician. In moments of acute pain 
 he would pray to God, and call upon those present to assist 
 him in praying that the pain might cease ; and often at the 
 close of the prayer the bishop would sink into slumber, the 
 pain having ceased. Such was his faith in God, that when 
 medical skill failed he made prayer his continual remedy. 
 
 One who was present with him during his last days, says : 
 " In one instance he told a friend and neighbour that he 
 wished him to pray with him on account of his pain. ' Not,' 
 said he, 'as you pray in your family, but in faith, with 
 direct reference to my case.' After prayer the bishop 
 smiled, raised his hand, and said, ' It is easy now.' This 
 was about two weeks before his death." 
 
 It soon became evident to all that his pilgrimage was 
 rapidly drawing to a close ; his strength was completely 
 prostrated, and his voice was so feeble that he could only 
 whisper, and that with the greatest difficulty at times. He 
 had for a long time been subject to asthmatic complaints, 
 which now increased, and he was often seized with severe 
 fits of coughing, when he seemed to hold life by a frail 
 tenure. Had it not been for the faithful attendance of his 
 relatives, his situation would have been very painful ; but 
 he had every attention. 
 
 " His interesting sister was ever at his bedside, where 
 her ' post of observation ' had oftentimes been before for 
 many times before this had the bishop gone home to die. 
 His kind, affectionate, and engaging niece seemed for weeks
 
 102 WILLIAM M'KENDKEE. 
 
 to have risen above the want of sleep, as she watched nights 
 and days away at his pillow. The bishop was so affected 
 by her kind attention, that he would say to her, ' Frances, 
 you are like a lamp ; you wake when I sleep, to shine on 
 me when I wake.' " 
 
 Bishop M'Kendree often had fears that he should be 
 called to die away from his dearest friends and relatives. 
 He greatly desired to die at his brother's ; and as the pre- 
 ceding paragraph intimates, he had more than once gone 
 to his brother's expecting not to return again to the busy 
 scenes of duty. And now, when it seemed certain that 
 the hour of his departure was near at hand, he ordered 
 that the bedstead on which his father had died some years 
 before should be brought in, as he wished to die where he 
 had died ; and here he awaited the coming of death. 
 
 On Sabbath, the first of March, it became so evident 
 that mortality would soon be swallowed up in immortality, 
 that his brother made known to him the opinion of phy- 
 sicians respecting his situation, and questioned him in 
 regard to his last desires. Their conference was at first 
 broken off by a severe fit of coughing, but he presently 
 recovered and made a signal with his hand that he was 
 ready to speak. His voice was so faint that it was neces- 
 sary that his nephew, Dudley M'Kendree, should lean 
 over him to receive the communications. 
 
 The bishop spoke first with regard to the state of his soul, 
 and said, "All is well for time or for eternity. I live by 
 faith in the Son of God. For me to live is Christ to die is 
 gain." This in the most emphatic manner he repeated, " I 
 wish that point perfectly understood that all is well with 
 me whether I live or die. For two months I have not had 
 a cloud to darken my hope; I have had uninterrupted
 
 WILLIAM M' KEN DREE. 103 
 
 confidence in my Saviour's love." He now commenced, 
 as an exposition of his feelings, to repeat the stanza : 
 
 " Not a cloud doth arise to darken my skies, 
 Or hide for a moment my Lord from my eyes." 
 
 His voice failed him, and the remaining lines were repeated 
 for him by one standing near the bedside. 
 
 Concerning the manner of his interment, he spoke briefly, 
 but pointedly. " I wish to be buried in the ancient Meth- 
 odist style, like an old Christian minister." 
 
 The interval from the Sabbath to the Thursday follow- 
 ing, when he died, he was calm and composed, with little 
 pain. To his nephew, Dudley M'Kendree, he said fer- 
 vently, " Follow me as I have followed Christ, only closer 
 to Christ." His favourite phrase wa's, ''All is well" which 
 has become identified with his dying hours. 
 
 " Death was in the room. The question had been asked 
 of the venerable sentinel, who shall no more stand on the 
 towers of our Zion, 'Is all well?' He had answered, 'Yes.' 
 Just then, by a sudden spasmodic contraction, he seemed 
 to have a darting pain in his right side. The muscles on 
 his left cheek appeared to suffer a corresponding spasm. 
 They knotted up with a wrinkle, which remained after the 
 pain in the side had passed away. Sensible of this mus- 
 cular distortion, the bishop was observed to make two 
 energetic efforts to smooth down his countenance. The 
 second effort succeeded, and a dying smile came over the 
 brow of the veteran, and descended upon the lower fea- 
 tures of his face. The struggle was over. The chariot 
 had gone over the everlasting hills." 
 
 The day and hour of his death were March 5th, 1835, 
 at five o'clock in the afternoon; he was seventy-seven 
 years and eight months old, lacking one day.
 
 104 WILLIAM M'KENDREE. 
 
 On Saturday morning, March 7th, his remains were laid 
 in the earth beside the dust of his honoured father, whom 
 he had loved with the most intense devotion, and from 
 whom he desired not to be separated in death. 
 
 In person, Bishop M'Kendree was a little above the 
 medium height, and very finely proportioned, his form in 
 his younger days giving notice of great physical strength 
 and activity. The first glance at his countenance con- 
 vinced one that he stood before a man of great intellectual 
 vigour, but whose predominant trait of character was 
 mildness. There were both height and breadth to his 
 forehead; and under heavy eyebrows, his eyes, black, 
 impressive, and somewhat protruded, gave a continual 
 evidence of the fires glowing within. His mouth had a 
 more than usually intellectual expression; his chin was 
 square, but not clumsy; and, on the whole, it may be 
 truly said, that a finer countenance, or one more expres- 
 sive of piety, firmness, and intelligence, could scarcely be 
 found.
 
 BISHOP OF THE METHODIST EPISCOPAL CHURCH
 
 LATE A BISHOP OF THE METHODIST EPISCOPAL CHURCH. 
 
 JOHN EMORY was born on the llth day of April, 1789, in 
 Spaniard's Keck, Queen Anne's County, Eastern Shore of 
 Maryland. His parents were Robert and Frances Emory, 
 both members of the Methodist Episcopal Church, in which 
 his father was a leader. As the family mansion was the 
 home of the circuit preachers, he was accustomed from 
 infancy to their company and conversation ; and, in fact, 
 from that time onward, he was nurtured in the bosom of 
 Methodism. 
 
 His elementary education was received in the country 
 schools in the vicinity of his birth-place. His academic 
 training was conducted by two excellent classical teachers 
 of the old school, and completed at Washington College, 
 Maryland. Before he was ten years of age his father had 
 decided to educate him for the bar, and all his studies for 
 several years were directed with set purpose to this end. 
 Nothing, however, but natural strength of mind and remark- 
 able advancement in study could have justified his enter- 
 ing a law-office at seventeen years of age. He worked in 
 that office most thoroughly : reading hard, writing digests 
 and essays, and grounding himself thoroughly in the funda- 
 mental principles of law. This training was afterward of 
 great value to him in a very different sphere of life.
 
 106 JOHN EMORY. 
 
 His moral character was of high order from his boyhood. 
 "If ever," says his biographer,* "amiableness of disposition 
 and unimpeachable morality of conduct could assure one 
 of the favour of God, it is believed that this would have 
 been Mr. Emory's case. But he had learned that ' whoso 
 keepeth the whole law, and yet offendeth in one point, is 
 guilty of all;' and that 'by the deeds of the law shall no 
 flesh be justified ;' that ' without faith it is impossible to 
 please God ;' and that ' he that believeth hath the witness 
 in himself.' And having no such immaculate purity by 
 nature, and no such evidence of justification, his awakened 
 conscience could not rest. His interest in the subject of 
 experimental religion was further increased by the recent 
 conversion of his elder brother and sister. For months 
 he had been labouring under strong convictions ; but his 
 naturally retiring and silent disposition made it the more 
 easy for him to conceal the fact from the rest of the 
 family, until the day when he made an open profession 
 of his determination to be on the Lord's side. The follow- 
 ing account of the circumstances attending his conversion 
 has been communicated by his surviving sister, who was 
 present on the occasion: 'The evening before the quar- 
 terly or two days' meeting, (already named,) several mem- 
 bers of our family, among whom were an elder sister and 
 myself, had assembled at our brother Robert's, where my 
 brother John was then living. The hours having been 
 spent in singing hymns and conversing about experimental 
 religion, when family prayer was concluded John betook 
 himself, as he afterward told us, to a retired part of the 
 garden, and there gave vent to the feelings of his burdened 
 spirit. Early on the succeeding Sabbath morning the 
 
 Life of Bishop Emory, by his eldest son, p. 26.
 
 JOHN EMORY. 
 
 family prepared to go to love-feast, expecting that, as 
 public preaching did not commence until an hour or two 
 later, John would not follow until some time after. He 
 himself, however, proposed to accompany us, and on the 
 way introduced the subject of religion to a pious relation, 
 Richard Thoinas, but without disclosing the real state of 
 his feelings. This was, however, sufficient to induce Mr. 
 Thomas to invite him to attend the love-feast. To this my 
 brother assented, provided he would obtain permission of 
 the preacher. But before he had an opportunity of doing 
 so, the preacher presented himself at the door, and stated 
 that none but members of the Church need apply for 
 admission, the house being too small to hold them. This 
 was an appalling stroke to him, and he said to his cousin, 
 "You need not apply, for they will not let me in." But 
 this good man, believing that God was at work, succeeded 
 in procuring admittance for him. The house was quickly 
 filled, and the exercises commenced, and soon the mighty 
 power of God was displayed. My sister and myself had 
 secured seats near the door. But few had spoken, when 
 our attention was arrested by a voice which sounded like 
 our brother's. We gazed at each other, and said, "Is it 
 he ?" (for we were entirely ignorant, as yet, of all that had 
 passed, and had not the least idea of his being in the 
 house:) "Yes," we said, with eyes streaming with tears 
 of joy, "it must be his voice," for see him we could not. 
 With intense interest we listened, while he there, in the 
 most solemn manner, called upon God and angels, heaven 
 and earth, and the assembly then present, to witness that 
 he that day determined to seek the salvation of his soul. 
 He then sunk upon his knees, and thus remained during 
 the love-feast, calling upon God for the pardon of his sins.
 
 108 JOHN KMOKY. 
 
 After public preaching the same humble posture was 
 resumed. Many prayers were offered up for him, and 
 much interest manifested. A circle was formed around 
 him of those who knew and felt that their God was a God 
 of mercy, forgiving iniquity, transgression, and sin. All 
 of a sudden he rose from his knees and seated himself; 
 and with such composure and sweetness as I never wit- 
 nessed in any, before or afterward, declared that he felt 
 peace and comfort, that all was calm.' " 
 
 This was on the 18th of August, 1806. From that time 
 to the day of his death, his Christian convictions, faith, 
 and hope, remained unaltered. The strong character of 
 the man was shown in this as in all things. He knew not 
 how to vacillate. 
 
 He was admitted to the bar in 1808, and opened an office 
 in Centreville. Such was the public confidence in his 
 capacity and integrity, that, young as he was, business soon 
 began to flow in upon him. But the young man's mind 
 had received another bent new impulses were given to 
 him from above, and he felt that he must obey them. He 
 resolved to abandon his profession and devote himself en- 
 tirely to the work of the ministry. " It was on the 9th of 
 October, 1809," he writes, " that I made a covenant on my 
 knees, wrote and signed it, to give up the law, after much 
 reading, prayer, and meditation, and on the 10th I did so, 
 though my father was very unwilling." This act, and the 
 spirit that animated it, will afford a clew to his entire char- 
 acter. It was not so great a thing in itself, this mere giving 
 up of good worldly prospects to become a preacher of 
 Christ ; if that were all, we might say that he had done no 
 more than many others ; nay, that he had done less. It is 
 not so great a sacrifice, after all, for a man of any elevation
 
 JOHN EMORY. 
 
 of soul to throw aside trifles for realities; a man altogether 
 worldly and selfish might not understand such an act ; but 
 for a noble spirit, the far greater sacrifice would be to crush 
 its heavenward tendencies, and suffer them to be trampled 
 in the dust, by ambition or avarice, in the great highway 
 of life. But the significance of the act lies in this, that the 
 conflict, in the bosom of this youth of twenty, was not 
 merely between worldliness and self-devotion, but between 
 the high claims of a duty whose voice of authority he had 
 implicitly obeyed from his childhood, and which had grown 
 with his growth until it was interwoven with every fibre of 
 his being, and the higher claims of a destiny newly unfolded 
 to him and foreign from the early plans and training of his 
 life. He revered his father as a wise and good man ; nay, 
 he loved him with an affection that had not been weakened 
 by severity or alienated by unkindness, for he owed every- 
 thing to his father's love ; he had been used to look up to 
 him for advice, and to render the ready obedience of a 
 dutiful son; and now, in the great turning-point of his 
 career, he was called upon to disobey ! That little lawyer's 
 office in Centreville was the scene, night after night, for 
 months, of a mighty struggle. Often have we contempla- 
 ted it thus: It is his duty to preach. He feels the fire 
 within him, and he cannot extinguish it the flame of love 
 to God and man. And yet it has not free course ; some- 
 times he even thinks it is dying away, and he longs to give 
 it vent in its natural channels. The world lies before him 
 in its wickedness. Men are rushing toward the precipice 
 of destruction, and he knows that God has made his arm 
 strong to pluck them from the awful brink. He sees moral 
 evil, in its varied forms of malignant power, battling with 
 the right and the true ; a warrior's spirit is in him, and he
 
 110 JOHN EMORY. 
 
 longs to stand in the thickest of the fray. The life of a 
 man is before him, and he longs to fill it with good deeds. 
 His vision embraces even other and further scenes. He 
 recollects not only how nobly great souls have spent them- 
 selves in life, but how nobly, too, they have triumphed in 
 death, and he looks forward to the hour, when, after his 
 work is done, he too shall achieve that final victory. He 
 is ready to go ! But he looks even beyond the grave, and 
 there gleams before his spirit-vision the crown of eternal 
 life, all radiant with gems immortal souls saved through 
 his instrumentality stars that are to shine forever in his 
 coronet of glory. He must go, though all the world oppose 
 him. But let the world speak. It tells him of his talents, 
 and the brilliant prospects before him wealth, distinction, 
 a high name among men. It tells him of the poverty, the 
 obscurity, nay, it even dares to say, the shame that must 
 come upon him if he change his course. More forcibly, it 
 tells him that he has mistaken his way, and that he can be 
 more useful as a weighty citizen or honest statesman than 
 as a wandering preacher. Is this all ? These petty sophisms 
 cannot deceive him ; his eye is too keen for that. Not that 
 he is unambitious ; but that he is all too ambitious to limit 
 his undertakings to so narrow and temporary a sphere. If 
 this be all, then the struggle is over. But, ah ! the real 
 conflict has yet to come. His very virtues are in arms 
 against him. His filial love is pointed, an enemy's weapon, 
 against his own bosom. His long habit of obedience binds 
 him with chains of iron. His father's judgment he has 
 always trusted, and can he pronounce it incorrect now? 
 Certainly it is not altogether unreasonable ; his health is so 
 feeble that he has to relax his studies, and he needs the 
 comforts of home, rather than the toils of a circuit. Can
 
 JOHN EMORY. Ill 
 
 we wonder that he was sorely tried 2 Could we have blamed 
 him for a different choice ? Blame him we might not, but 
 he would assuredly have blamed himself. Had John 
 Emory yielded to his father, his integrity and honour 
 would have been fearfully shaken ; thereafter he could not 
 have trusted himself. But his integrity and honour remained 
 unshaken then, as they did in all after time, forming the 
 very basis of his manly character. The decision was made 
 according to the dictates of his conscience, and even then 
 virtue was not without its heavenly witness and reward. 
 "The moment," says he, "I entered into this covenant 
 upon my knees, I felt my mind relieved, and the peace and 
 love of God to flow through my soul, though I had before 
 lost almost all the comforts of religion ; and ever since I 
 have enjoyed closer and more constant communion with 
 God than before." 
 
 After passing through the various offices of class-leader, 
 exhorter, and local preacher, Mr. Emory was received on 
 trial in the Philadelphia Conference in the spring of 1810. 
 A few years sufficed to establish his reputation for preemi- 
 nence in the qualities of a true Christian minister. Young 
 as he was, his dignity, sanctity, and weight of character, 
 soon became matter of common knowledge. His discre- 
 tion, too, was that of riper years; but it was not the 
 discretion which stifles zeal. He was in labours abundant ; 
 no proper work was drudgery to him. In 1812 the 
 bishops called for volunteers for the West; young Emory 
 replied, " Here am I, send me." But his wisdom, ability, 
 and acquirements were more needed at home, and the offer 
 was not accepted. In a few years his health began to fail ; 
 but his zeal in preaching and study knew no abatement 
 except from sheer necessity. " As he travelled from place
 
 112 JOHN EMOKY. 
 
 to place, some profitable book was his constant companion. 
 And while Christian courtesy and pastoral fidelity made it 
 alike his duty and his delight to mingle, at proper times, 
 in social and religious converse with the families which 
 entertained him, no false delicacy could induce him to 
 appropriate to man the hours which should be devoted to 
 God, nor to descend from the dignity of the minister to 
 the gossip of the newsmonger. When the claims of hospi- 
 tality and friendship were satisfied, he would betake him- 
 self to some retirement, to prosecute more uninterruptedly 
 his course of mental and religious improvement. By 
 this means he doubtless lost some popularity with those 
 thoughtless brethren who seek in their minister the boou 
 companion, rather than the ' man of God, thoroughly 
 furnished unto all good works;' but, like a wise master- 
 builder, he was laying deep and out of sight the founda- 
 tions of a character, which became afterward at once an 
 ornament and a defence to the Church. Indeed, the 
 course which he pursued had already secured to him a 
 high character among his brethren. There is still pre- 
 served, among the archives of the Asbury Historical 
 Society, the memoranda which Bishop Asbury made, 
 about this time, of the character of the preachers as 
 reported at Conference. The record in Mr. Emory's case 
 is as follows : 1811. ' John Emory classic, pious, gifted, 
 useful, given to reading.' 1812. 'John Emory pious, 
 
 gifted, steady, ' "* 
 
 From 1813 to 1820 he filled the most important pastoral 
 stations in the connexion, such as Philadelphia, Baltimore, 
 AVashington, &c. In 1813 he was married to Caroline 
 Sellers, whose beautiful life adorned his for only two years, 
 
 8 The remainder is illegible.
 
 JOHN EMOHY. 1J3 
 
 as she died in 1815. In 1816 (the first year of his eligi- 
 bility) he was elected a delegate to the General Confer- 
 ence ; and of every subsequent General Conference until 
 his death he was a member, except that of 1824, when, 
 being in a minority on a question of Church politics, in 
 the Baltimore Annual Conference, to which he was trans- 
 ferred in 1818, he was not elected a delegate. In the 
 early part of 1817 he made his first appearance in print as 
 a controversial writer. Bishop White, of the Protestant 
 Episcopal Church, had published in the Christian Register 
 an essay, entitled, "Objections against the position of a 
 personal assurance of the pardon of sin, by a direct com- 
 munication of the Holy Spirit." The doctrine thus assailed 
 being one of the distinguishing tenets of Methodism, and 
 one the preaching of which had been a source of great 
 prosperity to the Church and consolation to her members, 
 Mr. Emory came forward in its defence, in two pamphlets, 
 being "A Reply," and "A Further Reply," to the above- 
 mentioned essay. These were noticed in a review of the 
 whole question by Bishop "White, with which, it is believed, 
 the controversy terminated. 
 
 In the following year, while residing in Washington, he 
 had again to enter into controversy. Some articles 
 having been published by a Unitarian preacher, of the 
 name of "Wright, in the National Messenger, of George- 
 town, D. C., assailing the divinity of Christ, Mr. Emory 
 replied to them in several communications to the same 
 paper, under the signature, "An Observer." These articles 
 were afterward published in a pamphlet form, with the 
 title, " The Divinity of Christ vindicated from the Cavils 
 and Objections of Mr. John Wright," together with a 
 few numbers on the same subject, by the Rev. James 
 
 8
 
 JOHN EMORY. 
 
 Smith, whose memory is still cherished in the Church 
 for his superior talents as a metaphysician and an 
 orator. It is said that the publication of these essays 
 had a powerful influence in arresting the growing 
 popularity of a dangerous heresy in that part of the 
 country. 
 
 In the discussion of the important ecclesiastical ques- 
 tions which agitated the General Conference of 1820, Mr. 
 Emory took a distinguished part, and established a name 
 second to none in the Methodist ministry for skill in debate 
 and wisdom in counsel. He took special interest in the 
 missionary operations on which the Church was then 
 entering, and wrote the report in favour of the Constitu- 
 tion of the Missionary Society which was adopted by the 
 General Conference. 
 
 At the same Conference Mr. Emory was chosen delegate 
 to the British Conference, in order to open more close 
 relations between English and American Methodism, and, 
 especially, to settle certain difficulties which had arisen 
 between the preachers of the Methodist Episcopal Church 
 in the Canadas and the Wesleyan missionaries in those 
 provinces. He executed this delicate mission to the entire 
 satisfaction of all parties concerned ; and, by the dignity 
 and urbanity of his manner, his Christian meekness, his 
 unaffected piety, and the remarkable ability displayed in 
 his speeches and sermons, he left a strong impression in 
 favour not only of his own personal character, but also of 
 the Church and nation which he represented, in the minds 
 of the British Methodists. 
 
 It is well known that the period from 1820 to 1828 was 
 a time of great agitation in American Methodism. Vari- 
 ous attempts were made to modify the constitution of the
 
 JOHN EMORY. 115 
 
 Church, some of which were made by wise and judicious 
 men, on sufficient grounds. But then, as ever, in critical 
 and reformatory periods, there were to be found hasty and 
 ardent men, with impulses stronger than their judgment, 
 and zeal far beyond their knowledge, who, under the guise 
 of reformers, were really revolutionists. Mr. Emory took 
 a conspicuous part in all these controversies, and did 
 perhaps as much as any other man, if not more, to save 
 the Church from the injuries which many of its ignorant 
 friends were in the way of inflicting on it. A few pages, 
 then, may well be spared to a brief account of his share in 
 the doings of that stirring time. 
 
 The constitution of the Methodist Episcopal Church 
 sprung from the brain of no system-builder. The bishops 
 said truly, in their notes to the Discipline, that " the whole 
 plan of Methodism was introduced, step by step, by the 
 interference and openings of Divine Providence." In obe- 
 dience to this principle, the presiding elders' office was 
 fully instituted by the General Conference of 1Y92, which 
 vested the power of appointing them solely in the bishops. 
 Doubts arose at an early period in regard to the propriety 
 of this last provision, and finally there arose a large party 
 in favour of making the office elective. Mr. Emory fell 
 into the ranks of that party, and exerted himself actively 
 in behalf of the proposed change. At the General Con- 
 ference of 1820 it was found that part of the bishops and a 
 large number of the members of the Conference were in 
 favour of the modification ; but as there was still a pow- 
 erful opposition, it was proposed by one of the bishops "to 
 appoint a committee of conciliation, to consist of six, one- 
 half on each side of the question, and to be appointed by 
 the presiding bishop. This was agreed to, and accordingly
 
 116 JOHN EMORY. 
 
 done.* The hope of a happy adjustment seemed now to 
 brighten almost every countenance. The committee went 
 to work. They conferred with the bishops. They con- 
 sulted among themselves ; and at length, with the concur- 
 rence and approbation of two-thirds of the episcopacy, 
 they unanimously recommended to the Conference the 
 adoption of the following resolutions, viz. : 
 
 " ' Resolved, &c., That whenever, in any Annual Con- 
 ference, there shall be a vacancy or vacancies in the office 
 of presiding elder, in consequence of his period of service 
 of four years having expired, or the bishop wishing to 
 remove any presiding elder, or by death, resignation, or 
 otherwise, the bishop, or president of the Conference 
 having ascertained the number wanted from any of these 
 causes, shall nominate three times the number, out of 
 which the Conference shall elect by ballot, without debate, 
 the number wanted ; provided, when there is more than 
 one wanted, not more than three at a time shall be nomi- 
 nated, nor more than one at a time elected; provided, 
 also, that in case of any vacancy or vacancies in the 
 office of presiding elder in the interval of any Annual 
 Conference, the bishop shall have authority to fill the 
 said vacancy or vacancies until the ensuing Annual Con- 
 ference. 
 
 " ' Resolved, &c., 2dly. That the presiding elders be, and 
 hereby are, made the advisory council of the bishops, or 
 president of the Conference, in stationing the preachers.' 
 
 "These resolutions, after an ineffectual opposition on 
 the part of a few individuals, were passed by a majority 
 of more than two-thirds of the General Conference." 
 
 The committee were, Ezekiel Cooper, Joshua Wells, S. G. Roszel, 
 N. Bangs, W. Capers, and J. Emory.
 
 EMORY. 117 
 
 This result was received with universal joy; the long 
 dispute, it was thought, was ended forever. But these 
 pleasing dreams were soon dispelled by the announcement 
 that Mr. Soule, who had been elected bishop a few days 
 before, but not ordained, had declared, in writing, that if 
 ordained, he would not carry these resolutions into execu- 
 tion, because he believed them to be unconstitutional. 
 This was carrying matters with a high hand ; it was 
 nothing less than a claim of power on the part of the 
 bishop " to arrest the operation of resolutions concurred in 
 by more than two-thirds of the General Conference, and 
 by two-thirds of the episcopacy itself." In his conduct on 
 this occasion, Bishop Soule gave a fair indication of the 
 high-episcopal-prerogative doctrine, or rather sentiment, 
 (for it has no logical coherency to make it doctrine,) 
 which he has ever since maintained. Mr. Soule offered 
 his resignation, which was accepted by the Conference. 
 But his views were supported by Bishop M'Kendree, for 
 whose character and opinions there was almost universal 
 reverence. The resolutions, therefore, were suspended for 
 four years. 
 
 In Mr. Emory's view, the presiding-elder question, as it 
 was called, sank into insignificance in comparison with this 
 new claim of an episcopal right to veto the acts of the 
 General Conference. It was now the question whether 
 the episcopacy or the General Conference were to be 
 supreme. Without entering into an account of all his 
 labours on this point, it is enough to say that the bishop 
 subsequently disclaimed all intention to exercise such a 
 power ; nor has it, or anything like it, since been assumed 
 or claimed by any bishop of our Church. 
 
 But if Mr. Emory stood up manfully in opposition to
 
 118 JOHN EMOKY. 
 
 > 
 
 what he believed to be an unauthorized claim of episcopal 
 power, he was no less useful as a defender of the episco- 
 pacy itself in a subsequent day of trial. It is hard to 
 realize, now, the dangers which menaced the Church dur- 
 ing the memorable years of the so-called radical contro- 
 versy. But shall we consider the danger to have been 
 trifling because the Church triumphed? Because the 
 noble ship came out of the storm with every mast, and 
 spar, and rope unharmed, shall we say that there was no 
 tempest? Bather let us adore the Power that rides upon 
 the whirlwind, and give due praise to the gallant pilots, 
 who, under his protection, withstood its fury. We should 
 j udge of its fierceness, not by what the result was, but by 
 what it might have been had there been no capable steers- 
 man at the helm. Who can say but that the desire of 
 change, always a powerful one, and at that time intensified 
 into a passion in some leading minds, would have spread 
 through the Church with revolutionary rapidity, and con- 
 vulsed it from one end of the land to the other, had it not 
 been arrested in its inception? "There never was a 
 period," says our author, "in the history of American 
 Methodism, which required such prudence in counsel, such 
 firmness in action." Ungrateful, indeed, would it be to 
 forget those who then stood up in defence of our noble 
 institutions; and our right hand shall sooner forget its 
 cunning than we refuse to honour their names and com- 
 memorate their deeds. We have no desire to exalt one 
 man unduly above another, but we hardly suppose that 
 any will find fault with us for giving the foremost place 
 among the champions of the Church out of the itinerancy 
 to Dr. Thos. E. Bond, Sen., of Baltimore, whose "Appeal to 
 the Methodists," published in 1827, by its luminous expo-
 
 JOHN EMORY. 119 
 
 sition of our system of government, especially with regard 
 to the itinerancy, by its forcible arguments in defence of 
 that system, and by its eloquent appeals to the best feel- 
 ings of the Methodist community, produced a powerful 
 effect, both in confirming many wavering minds and in 
 preventing the sophisms of the malcontents from leading 
 others astray. This pamphlet, with the " Narrative and 
 Defence," forms part of the history of the controversy. 
 While Dr. Bond was thus acting the part of an able attor- 
 ney-general, the wisdom and firmness of Rev. James M. 
 Hanson, with whom rested the responsibility of the admin- 
 istration in Baltimore in those perilous times, erected a 
 defence of another sort, no less legitimate, and perhaps no 
 less effective, against the assaults of the innovators. But 
 while these brethren had the danger, and the honour, of 
 fighting the battle in the very district where the enemy's 
 chief strength lay, their efforts were called forth by local 
 circumstances, and some general defence of the Church 
 was needed which should vindicate the fame of her found- 
 ers, and set forth, before all men, the true principles of her 
 organization. It was reserved for John Emory to do this 
 work. He did not interfere in the controversy until the 
 demand for his services became urgent, and then he inter- 
 fered effectually. The " Defence of our Fathers," designed, 
 primarily, as an answer to Mr. A. M'Caine's "History and 
 Mystery of Methodist Episcopacy," took a wider view of 
 the subject than was necessary to refute that malicious 
 production. Mr. M'Caine went far beyond his associates 
 in violence and effrontery. No calumny was too foul to 
 find currency through his means, if it would only serve his 
 purposes of defamation. An honourable character formed 
 no defence for the living against the shafts of his malice ;
 
 120 JOHN EMOKY. 
 
 the grave itself was no sanctuary for the venerable dead. 
 His soul had not honour enough " to bless the turf that 
 wrapped their clay ;" it could only find utterance, over the 
 tomb, in a hideous howl of slander. But there were many 
 who knew little of the men whom he traduced or the events 
 which he misrepresented: and, in the absence of other 
 information, the very boldness of his assertions gained them 
 credence for a time. " At the instance of some who had 
 taken the deepest interest in the existing contest, Mr. 
 Emory undertook to expose the falsity of his statements 
 and the fallacy of his arguments." In a very short time 
 the "Defence" appeared, and although prepared so hastily, 
 amid the laborious engagements of the book agency, it 
 fully sustained the reputation of its author, and, what is 
 more important, triumphantly vindicated the fame of the 
 founders of the Church. The work at once produced a 
 great sensation ; friends were delighted, foes were alarmed. 
 It has since been made a part of the preachers' course of 
 study, and has taken its place, deservedly, among the 
 standard writings of the Church. The biography by his 
 son gives a clear outline of its contents, and the work itself 
 is well known to most of our readers, so that we need do 
 nothing more than express our opinion in regard to its 
 merits. It has the same points of excellence that distin- 
 guish all Mr. Emory's writings clearness of arrangement, 
 fairness of statement, soundness of logic, and conciseness of 
 expression. Nor does it lack pungency of satire and 
 severity of rebuke; and these are combined with deep 
 feeling in the remarkably eloquent passage at the close of 
 the volume. On the whole, this tract, considering the 
 time of its publication, the subjects of which it treats, and 
 the effects which it produced, may be regarded as one of
 
 JOHN EMOKY. 
 
 the most important publications that have appeared in the 
 history of the Methodist Episcopal Church. 
 
 A posthumous tract on episcopacy exhibits Dr. Emory 
 as the defender of the Church against assaults from with- 
 out. Incomplete as it is, it does no discredit to its author ; 
 there is enough to show that he was master of the subject, 
 and would have disposed of the controversy satisfactorily 
 had he been allowed to complete his design. The latter 
 and better portion of the tract, containing a partial ex- 
 amination of Dr. Onderdonk's "Episcopacy tested by 
 Scripture," is, in our judgment, as far as it goes, the ablest 
 answer that has yet been given to that ingenious but over- 
 rated production. The high Churchman's weak points 
 were clearly perceived by Bishop Emory, and he attacked 
 them with great weight of metal and directness of aim. 
 
 At the Conference of 1824 Mr. Emory was elected 
 Assistant Book Agent, with Rev. Dr. Bangs as senior ; 
 and in 1828 he was elected Agent, with Rev. Beverly 
 Waugh as Assistant. In the language of his biographer, 
 his " connexion with the Book Concern, whether it be con- 
 sidered with reference to its influence upon that establish- 
 ment and the Church at large, or its influence upon the 
 development of his own character, must be regarded as 
 one of the most important periods of his life." The chap- 
 ter on the Book Concern in his biography, while it in no 
 respect depreciates the services of others, shows that the 
 present commanding position of the establishment is mainly 
 to be attributed to Dr. Emory. 
 
 The Publishing Fimd originated with him. Its origin 
 and objects are set forth in his admirable address to the 
 Church and its friends in behalf of the Bible, Tract, 
 and Sunday-School Societies of the Methodist Episcopal
 
 122 JOHN EMOBT. 
 
 Church ; and though its results have not fully equalled 
 the expectations at first cherished, they have sufficed to 
 evince the sagacity of the measure. The MetJiodist Quar- 
 terly Review also owes its existence to Dr. Emory, who 
 commenced the publication of its first series in 1830. 
 Most of the original articles, up to 1832, were from his 
 pen, and some of them were written with distinguished 
 ability. 
 
 A comprehensive sketch of the history of the Book Con- 
 cern, from the pen of Bishop "Waugh, is given in the " Life 
 of Dr. Emory." From that outline, and the more extended 
 account in Dr. Bangs's History, vol. iv, we learn that be- 
 tween the years 1823 and 1828 there was a great expan- 
 sion of the business of the Concern, to meet which a build- 
 ing was purchased in Crosby-street, and a printing office 
 and bindery established on the premises. During this 
 period Dr. Emory was junior Book Agent. But "this 
 extension of business had not been accomplished without 
 an increase of debt, and although there was now greater 
 energy in the institution to effect its discharge, it may well 
 be doubted whether this result would not have been wholly 
 prevented by the system on which the business was con- 
 ducted." 
 
 The debt of the establishment in 1828 was $101,200 80, 
 two-thirds of which sum was at interest. Its nominal assets 
 amounted to $456,898 30, of which only $59,772 28 were 
 in fixed capital, cash, and notes receivable ; the remainder 
 consisting of stock on hand, and accounts, mostly for books 
 sent out from New- York on commission, from which im- 
 mense deductions had to be made in order to anything like 
 a true estimate of their value. Indeed the agents estimated 
 the real capital of the establishment at only $130,002 02,
 
 ' a 
 
 a
 
 JOHN EMORY. 1 2o 
 
 we suppose, of course, exclusive of its debt. The commis- 
 sion system of business gave rise to a vast amount of credit 
 to a multitude of persons throughout the land ; and had it 
 continued, this credit must have gone on increasing from 
 year to year. No skill or industry could, under these cir- 
 cumstances, have paid the debts of the institution and kept 
 up its capital. The inevitable alternative must have been, 
 either the curtailment of the business or the destruction of 
 the Concern. Dr. Emory proposed the bold, but necessary 
 measure of an entire revolution in the mode of doing busi- 
 ness, and suggested to his colleague the abolition of the 
 commission system, and the adoption of one founded on the 
 principle of actual sales for cash or its equivalent. In the 
 language of Bishop Waugh, "The two great objects which 
 Dr. Emory aimed to accomplish were, first, the extinguish- 
 ment of the debts due from the Concern, and second, the 
 actual sale of the stock on hand, and especially that part 
 of it which was daily depreciating, because of the injuries 
 which were constantly being sustained by it, in the scat- 
 tered and exposed state in which most of it was found. 
 The ability, skill, diligence, and perseverance which he 
 displayed in the measures devised by him for the accom- 
 plishment of these objects, have seldom been equalled, and 
 perhaps never surpassed by the most practised business 
 man. His success was complete. Before the meeting of 
 the General Conference he had cancelled all the obligations 
 of the institution which had been so opportunely intrusted 
 to his supervision. He had greatly enlarged the annual 
 dividends to an increased number of Conferences. He had 
 purchased several lots of ground for a more enlarged and 
 eligible location of the establishment, and had erected a 
 large four-story brick building as a part of the improve-
 
 124: JOHN EMORY. 
 
 ments intended to be put on them, for the whole of which 
 he had paid. It was his high honour, and also his enviable 
 satisfaction, to report to the General Conference, for the 
 first time, that its Book Concern was no longer in debt." 
 
 Such were the immediate results of Dr. Emory's agency. 
 We have one word more to say of it. The energy, effi- 
 ciency, and method which he infused into all the opera- 
 tions of the Concern remain to this day. He has left his 
 mark upon it. His admirable plans had only to be carried 
 out to place the establishment beyond the reach of ordinary 
 contingencies. His able successors have done their work in 
 his spirit, and developed the resources of the institution to 
 an extent formerly unhoped for ; so that it has stood the 
 ordeal of an immense loss by fire, and of a long period of 
 commercial distress, without even shaking ; and to-day it 
 is, to the best of our knowledge, the second, if not the 
 greatest, book-making and book-selling establishment in 
 America. 
 
 During these years of public labour, Mr. Emory's char- 
 acter was constantly assuming more and more command- 
 ing proportions to the eye of the Church, and it was the 
 opinion of many that he was destined to be her leading 
 spirit. At the General Conference of 1832 he was elected 
 bishop. His career in the episcopacy was brief, but bril- 
 liant. The appointment was hailed with joy throughout 
 the connexion. Great expectations were indulged; and 
 we believe that in the three episcopal tours which he was 
 allowed to make, they were entirely satisfied. His powers 
 as a presiding officer were tried on the last night of the 
 General Conference of 1832, when he occupied the chair, 
 and gained the admiration of the delegates as well as of 
 the immense concourse of spectators, by the dignity and
 
 JOHN EMORY. 125 
 
 firmness with which he discharged its duties. Dignity, 
 indeed, was part of his nature, and it could not forsake 
 him. " I hurry nothing, but endeavour to keep strict order, 
 and every man close to business," was a statement, by him- 
 self, of his method of doing business ; and admirably did he 
 carry it out. Nor were his labours confined to the Con- 
 ference sessions. In the intervals of those bodies he was 
 always travelling, preaching, writing, and planning for the 
 advancement of the great interests of Christianity and of 
 the Church. The cause of education, especially, lay near 
 his heart. His share in the organization of the New- York 
 University, the Wesleyan University, and Dickinson Col- 
 lege, evince the interest that he took in general education. 
 In addition to this he drew up the outline of a plan for an 
 education society in the Methodist Episcopal Church, 
 which he designed to aid our ministers and others in edu- 
 cating their sons. But his efforts for the improvement of 
 the ministry deserve more than a passing notice. Though 
 the education of its ministers had always been an object 
 with the Church, its plans for that purpose had always 
 been defective, and were imperfectly carried out. Soon 
 after his election to the episcopacy, Dr. Emory devised a 
 course of study for candidates for deacons' and elders' 
 orders, in which, with his usual discretion, he did not 
 hazard everything by attempting too much. In due time 
 the course will doubtless be greatly enlarged, and its 
 natural result will be an elevation of the standard of 
 ministerial knowledge among us, corresponding, partially 
 at least, with the general advance of society. In some 
 sections of the country the movement will be more rapid 
 than in others ; but we have no doubt whatever that the 
 Church will ultimately settle down upon the plan of our
 
 126 JOHN EMORY. 
 
 British brethren, or upon some better one, for the theologi- 
 cal training of its candidates. We have no doubt, either, 
 that Bishop Emory foresaw this result, and would have 
 hastened it had he lived. 
 
 He formed a plan, also, for training the local preachers, 
 which, with an argument for the four years' course of study 
 for the travelling preachers, is set forth in his excellent 
 address to "the Preachers within the Virginia, Baltimore, 
 Philadelphia, New-York, New-England, Maine, New- 
 Hampshire, Troy, Oneida, and Genesee Annual Confer- 
 ences," published before he commenced his third and last 
 tour. He attended all these Conferences but the last two. 
 Nothing of unusual interest transpired at any of them 
 except the New-England and New-Hampshire, where the 
 first Conference difficulties on the subject of abolitionism 
 arose. His conduct there was marked by his usual judg- 
 ment and firmness. Subsequently he prepared the episco- 
 pal address to those Conferences, signed by himself and 
 Bishop Hedding ; and whatever opinions may be held as to 
 his views of abolitionism, none can deny that the subject is 
 therein treated with a master's hand. As for slavery itself, 
 that "root of evil," as he characterized it, his views were 
 well known; abolitionists themselves never held it in 
 deeper abhorrence. The Troy Conference of 1835 was 
 the last which he attended. 
 
 "It was in the midst of engagements like these, and 
 when in the possession of more vigorous health than he 
 had enjoyed for many years previously, that Bishop Emory 
 was suddenly taken to his rest. On Wednesday, the 16th of 
 December, 1835, a day memorable for the great conflagra- 
 tion in New- York, and for the excessive cold by which its 
 ravages were accelerated and extended, Bishop Emory left
 
 JOHN EMORY. 127 
 
 home for Baltimore, in a light open carriage, about six 
 o'clock in the morning, being then before day. About 
 two miles from his residence he had to descend a hill 
 nearly a mile in length. The carriage was seen, it was 
 said, about the dawn of day, passing by a tavern near the 
 top of the hill with considerable velocity; but nothing 
 further was noticed, until, about twenty minutes after, the 
 bishop was found by a wagoner lying bleeding and in- 
 sensible on the side of the road, about two hundred yards 
 below the tavern. He had, it would appear, while the 
 horse was running, either jumped or been thrown from the 
 carriage, and had fallen with the back of his head on a 
 stone, which fractured the skull. He was immediately 
 removed to the tavern ; medical assistance was promptly 
 summoned, but the case was at once pronounced hopeless. 
 Those of his afflicted family and brethren who were in the 
 neighbourhood repaired to his dying bed ; but the nature 
 of the injury, while it rendered him insensible to their 
 sympathy, happily freed him from the pain which would 
 have required it. In this state he lingered till the even- 
 ing, when, at a quarter past seven, he expired. 
 
 " Upon receiving the melancholy intelligence, the trus- 
 tees and stewards of the Baltimore city station requested to 
 be permitted to superintend his interment. Accordingly, 
 under their direction, the body was conveyed to Balti- 
 more, where the funeral sermon was preached, on the 
 ensuing Sabbath, in the Eutaw-street Church, by his old 
 and tried friend, the Rev. Alfred Griffith, from 2 Samuel 
 iii, 38 : " Know ye not that there is a prince and a great 
 man fallen this day in Israel ?" His mortal remains were 
 immediately afterward deposited in the vault under the 
 pulpit, where they lie beside those of the venerated
 
 JOHX EMORY. 
 
 Asbury, of whom lie had been so able a defender, and so 
 faithful a successor. 
 
 " The news of this sudden bereavement spread a gloom 
 throughout the vast connexion, over which Bishop Emory 
 had presided for a period, sufficient, though brief, to assure 
 them of the greatness of the loss they had sustained." 
 
 A glance at a few of the prominent points of Bishop 
 Emory's character will close this brief sketch. His integ- 
 rity no man ever doubted. It was written upon every 
 lineament of his strongly-marked countenance ; it spoke in 
 every word that fell from his lips ; and it was manifest in 
 every action of his life. Known and read of all men as it 
 was, it is almost superfluous to commemorate the honesty 
 of John Emory. Ambition could not tempt it ; difficulties 
 could not shake it ; gold could not bribe it. He adopted 
 his opinions cautiously, because he would receive none 
 without the fullest assurance of their truth; and when 
 they were adopted, he maintained them manfully, because 
 he believed them to be true. It mattered not to him who 
 was his opponent. Except that his modesty and tender- 
 ness of feeling were wounded by the trial, his opposition 
 to Bishop M'Kendree was as vigorous as it would have 
 been, if, on the same subject, he had been contending with 
 a junior preacher like himself. ]STo disputant could be 
 more thoroughly upright in the conduct of a debate than 
 he; sound and legitimate reasoning he would employ 
 against any man, sophistry he never deigned to use at all. 
 He never committed the fatal error of maintaining a good 
 cause by bad arguments. His was not that flexible con- 
 science which bends with circumstances. And though he 
 was prudent, as we shall see, almost to a proverb, we do 
 not believe that an instance could be found, in his whole
 
 JOHN EMORY. 
 
 life, of his sacrificing the true to the expedient. In the 
 early stages of the presiding-elder question he incurred the 
 imputation of radicalism by his bold advocacy of what he 
 believed to be a necessary change ; and in its later days, he 
 was liable, in the eyes of some, to the charge of inconsist- 
 ency, because he opposed the excesses of persons with 
 whom he had before been partially connected. In both 
 cases he knew the risk he was running ; in both he made 
 up his mind as to what was right, and unflinchingly pur- 
 sued it. 
 
 Another striking element of his nature was strength of 
 will. He manifested it, even in his boyhood, in obeying 
 the call of God to preach the gospel, in opposition to the 
 wishes of a revered and beloved father. We have seen 
 that the parent was unbending : he found the son worthy 
 of the sire in this same iron trait, which he manifested, not 
 merely in the decision, but in adhering to it through two 
 whole years of gloom, in which his father refused to hear 
 him preach, or even to receive letters from him. What a 
 weight to rest upon the young itinerant, in addition to the 
 cares inseparable from his new position! "It would, 
 doubtless," says his biographer, "be an instructive and 
 affecting lesson to peruse the private diary which he kept 
 at this period." It would, indeed, have proved a precious 
 relic ; but even without it, we can appreciate the firmness 
 of his conduct in this early day of trial, and his subsequent 
 history showed a full development of this powerful element 
 of character. Nor could it ever be mistaken for obstinacy, 
 that " stubbornness of temper which can assign no reasons 
 but mere will for a constancy which acts in the nature of 
 dead weight rather than of strength, resembling less the 
 reaction of a spring than the gravitation of a stone."
 
 130 JOHN EMOBY. 
 
 Knowing the purity of his own intentions, confiding in his 
 own judgment, and perceiving his superiority to most of 
 the men around him, he was rarely to be found in that 
 miserable state of suspense which seems to form the com- 
 mon atmosphere of men of muddy brains and feeble wills. 
 It was surprising to see how such men would fall back and 
 clear the way for his coming. It was known that he was 
 a wise and thoughtful man ; but if it had not been known, 
 also, that his will was not to be baffled, he never could 
 have attained the power over men which he possessed. 
 The great secret of heroism lies, indeed, in this strength of 
 will. A man may be as honest as the day and as clear- 
 headed as Lord Bacon ; but if his will be imbecile, he will 
 be thrust aside in the day of trial by men of far humbler 
 pretensions. One Mirabeau, in a French revolution, is 
 worth a score of Neckars. We are no idolaters of mere 
 energy of mind, and yet we are too well assured of the 
 immense power it confers on its possessor not to honour it, 
 when we find it combined with inflexible integrity and 
 directed to noble objects. In Bishop Emory it was ex- 
 hibited not only in that promptness of action which we 
 call decision of character, but also in that well-sustained 
 steadfastness which is perhaps more rare consistency. 
 No one doubted that when the time came for action he 
 would be prepared ; no one expected to find the deed of 
 one day nullified by that of the next. 
 
 Many strong men keep us in constant fear lest they 
 should make some false step. When in possession of 
 power they are watched by a thousand anxious eyes. 
 With unimpeachable honesty and Koman firmness, they 
 are so destitute of prudence that their power is wasted 
 in the endless strifes which they excite by the wayside,
 
 JOIIX EMOJKY. 131 
 
 instead of being treasured up for great emergencies. Not 
 so Bishop Emory. He disobeyed his father, it is true ; but 
 not without foresight on his own part, and wise counsel 
 from his friends to fortify his decision. Afterward he was 
 proverbially a prudent man. Dr. Bangs says, " that he 
 was always desirous to have his errors corrected before 
 they should be exposed to the multitude for indiscriminate 
 condemnation." This combination of discretion and firm- 
 ness is so strongly marked, that we should be tempted to 
 illustrate it at length from the biography before us, did our 
 limits allow. It must suffice for us to point to his success 
 in his very first station, where his remarkable prudence 
 fully justified the reply of Bishop Asbury to some who 
 doubted his qualifications for the post, " Never mind, he 
 has an old head on young shoulders ;" to his conduct in his 
 delicate mission to England ; to his defence of the institu- 
 tions of the Church ; to his management of the Book Con- 
 cern ; and, lastly, to his performance of episcopal functions. 
 We have traced him through the whole of this career, and 
 found him often placed in circumstances of perplexity and 
 even of peril, but never once have we found his firmness 
 shaken or his discretion at fault. "We are aware that this 
 is high praise, and that some have tried to impugn his 
 conduct, in certain instances, as indiscreet, to say the least ; 
 but we are firmly convinced that in no case, even the most 
 difficult, could he have done less than he did without sacri- 
 ficing that steadfastness of purpose which he would have 
 died sooner than relinquish. He could not have been 
 more discreet, even in appearance, without being less firm. 
 But there have not been wanting those who considered his 
 very caution a fault ; and we have heard him charged 
 with a morbidly scrupulous care for his own reputation.
 
 132 JOHN KMOKY. 
 
 A newly published book was once under discussion in the 
 presence of one of our living bishops, and several errors, 
 evidently the result of carelessness, being pointed out, the 
 bishop remarked, " Brother Emory would have worked his 
 finger-nails off before such inaccuracies could appear in a 
 publication of his." The remark was no exaggeration. 
 No man could be more conscientious as an author than 
 John Emory. So great was his anxiety that all his com- 
 positions should be finished, that we have known him, after 
 correcting and recorrecting until his manuscript had be- 
 come the plague of the compositors, to make free with the 
 proofs to an alarming extent, and sometimes to throw down 
 whole paragraphs and pages after they had been set up. 
 Shall we call this a fault, and thus sanction that lazy confi- 
 dence which enables some writers to utter their crude 
 thoughts in careless language, to the disgrace of the Church 
 and the injury of good letters ? By no means. Rather let 
 us praise the sternness of principle which governed the 
 man even in such matters, and the prudence which caused 
 him so anxiously to strive for correctness in all things. 
 The UmcB labor is not so common that we can afford to 
 stigmatize it as a weakness. 
 
 Such were some of the prominent traits of Bishop 
 Emory's character. Less known, of course, were the 
 strength and tenderness of his affections. How touchingly 
 beautiful are the letters written to his mother, at the time 
 of trial to which we have referred ! How carefully he 
 avoids any allusion to his father's course, and how tenderly 
 he speaks of him afterward ! The opinion seems to have 
 gained ground, in some quarters, that he was cold and 
 repulsive; and some, observing the stern severity of his 
 manner in the performance of public duty, have judged
 
 JOHN EMORY. 133 
 
 that his heart was formed in the mould of austerity. Those 
 thought differently who knew him well. In the account, 
 given in his own language, of his wife's death, every word 
 is fraught with feeling; and never was there. a nobler ex- 
 pression of human love than is found in the closing passage 
 of a letter to his mother-in-law on that mournful occasion : 
 " I think, sometimes, that I could brave death to see her 
 only." The letters to his family and near friends, espe- 
 cially in times of sickness, trial, or death, literally breathe 
 the spirit of love. 
 
 But there was some ground for the opinion that he was 
 not remarkably affable ; certainly he was not as accessible 
 as he might have been without any detraction from his 
 dignity. This remark, however, can only apply to his 
 business intercourse with others. "When he gave himself 
 to the enjoyments of the social circle he was delightfully 
 easy ; there, and there only, did his heart find its full play. 
 His friendships, too, were sincere and steadfast, and they 
 could not be otherwise in a nature of so much depth and 
 constancy as his. His biographer tells us that " his heart 
 was too warm and generous not to seek some kindred spirits 
 with whom to hold sweet converse ; though even with these, 
 his most unreserved intercourse never descended to anything 
 unbecoming the Christian or the minister." "We think it 
 may be said, in addition to this, that he was not communica- 
 tive even to his best friends. He was not accustomed to in- 
 dulge the entire heart in the gushing flow of sympathy ; his 
 soul did not utter itself, as some men's do, in all its fulness; 
 nor did he " delight in the detail of feeling, in the outward 
 and visible signs of the sacrament within to count, as it 
 were, the pulses of the life of love." His affections were 
 always under the control of his judgment.
 
 134 JOHN EMORY. 
 
 To attempt a regular analysis of Bishop Emory's mind, 
 is a task to which we dare not address ourselves. No man 
 can trace his history and read his writings without perceiv- 
 ing that accuracy was one of his highest aims. This re- 
 sulted not only from the character of his mind, but from 
 his mental habits, formed early in life. He could never be 
 satisfied with partial views of any subject. " In boyhood," 
 says his biographer, "whether the subject of inquiry was 
 the pronunciation of a word, or a question of science or 
 religion, he could not be content with conjecture, when 
 certainty might be attained." And, in after life, he studied 
 thoroughly whatever he undertook to examine at all, and 
 in setting forth the result of his labours, he surrounded his 
 subject with an atmosphere of light. He had the clearness 
 of Guizot, though without his eloquence. Indeed, the most 
 prominent feature of his mind, it seems to us, was its 
 method. "When he spoke, you saw that every sentence 
 was thought out, and present to his mind as a whole, before 
 he uttered a syllable. In writing, too, he always took care 
 to see the end from the beginning. Good logic was natural 
 to him ; a sophism grated on his mind very much as dis- 
 cord annoys a musical ear. A difficult question fell to 
 pieces before his power of analysis just as a compound sub- 
 stance is decomposed by chemical agents. Nor was his 
 method mere arrangement, that empty counterfeit which 
 cheats some men into the belief that they have well-ordered 
 minds, as if to build up a science were the same thing as to 
 make a dictionary. It consisted, first, in the natural clear- 
 ness of his understanding, and, secondly, in his habitual 
 reference of the species to the genus the subordination of 
 the parts to the whole the contemplation of the relations 
 of things as well as of the things themselves. His associa-
 
 JOHN EMORY. 185 
 
 tions were principally made under the law of cause and 
 effect ; the principle involved in any phenomenon, and not 
 the mere attendant circumstances of time and place, took 
 root in his mind, so that his memory was eminently phil- 
 osophical. Add to this his methodical industry, and you 
 have the secret of his extensive knowledge, his readiness in 
 debate, his admirable self-possession as a presiding officer, 
 and even the versatility which enabled him to excel in all 
 that he undertook. He understood most thoroughly the 
 value of the old maxim, everything in its place, a maxim 
 for which genius itself can find no substitute. Coleridge 
 says truly, that " where this charm is wanting, every other 
 merit either loses its name, or becomes an additional ground 
 of accusation and regret. The man of methodical industry 
 organizes the hours and gives them a soul; and that, the 
 very essence of which is to fleet away, and evermore to 
 ha/ve been, he takes up into his own permanence, and 
 communicates to it the imperishableness of a spiritual 
 nature. Of the good and faithful servant, whose ener- 
 gies are thus methodized, it is less truly affirmed, that he 
 lives in time, than that time lives in him." Bishop 
 Emory was, to a remarkable degree, this good and faithful 
 servant. 
 
 We do not hesitate, therefore, to say that he was a man 
 of great talent. But he was not a man of genius. Every 
 subject had to be brought within the scope of his under- 
 standing, and when there, he was perfectly master of it ; 
 but in the outer region of the imagination he was compara- 
 tively a stranger. No poetry has been foimd among his 
 remains, and for a, very good reason; he did not possess 
 " the vision and the faculty divine." It was not for him to 
 clothe his thoughts in
 
 136 JOHN KMORT. 
 
 " The light that never was on sea or land, 
 The consecration, and the poet's dream ;" 
 
 for the light that was in him, and which he poured forth 
 in a flood of radiance upon every subject properly within 
 his sphere, was the light of the understanding, and not of 
 the imagination. That he would have been a greater man 
 if more richly endowed with this highest of human gifts, 
 we cannot doubt. His preaching would have been more 
 attractive, his writings more fervent and glowing, and his 
 whole character more ardent. The powers that he pos- 
 sessed qualified him admirably, however, to discharge the 
 duties that devolved upon him, and he worked better, per- 
 haps, with his diversified talents, than a man of genius 
 could have done in the same circumstances. What we 
 have said of him, thus far, amounts to this: that he was 
 eminently a practical man. "Without knowing the extent 
 of his studies in modern philosophy, we can easily imagine 
 the contempt in which he would have held transcendental- 
 ism. German metaphysics must have been all cloudland 
 to him. He would have placed Kant and Schelling upon 
 the same shelf with Jacob Behmen and Baron Sweden- 
 borg. Even Cousin could have found no favour with him. 
 To some this will seem high praise ; to others, just the 
 reverse ; but, at all events, we believe it to be true. 
 
 Dr. Emory was a deeply pious man, in the highest sense 
 of the word. Religion, with him, was not merely a matter 
 of principle and habit, but had its root deep in his heart, 
 and gave worth and dignity to his entire being. He 
 was not much given to talk about his personal religion 
 the stream was too deep for that; but his communion 
 with God was, we doubt not, uniform and abundant. 
 Equally removed from formality and enthusiasm, his
 
 JOHN EMORY. 137 
 
 piety purified his affections, elevated his intellect, and con- 
 trolled his life. 
 
 In this sketch the writer has endeavoured to set forth the 
 character of John Emory with all the impartiality which is 
 compatible with the deepest reverence and the tenderest 
 love ; at the close he may be allowed one breathing of his 
 own personal feelings. Little did he think, when at the 
 Troy Conference of 1835, the bishop, at the close of an 
 interview in which he had imparted some of the rich treas- 
 ures of his experience in kind advice, folded him affec- 
 tionately in his arms and bade him farewell, that it was a 
 farewell forever ! Earnest was his last gaze upon that form 
 beloved, but O, how earnest would it have been had he 
 known that it was the last. Carefully did he record in his 
 memory the words of manly wisdom that fell from those 
 honoured lips how would each precious syllable have 
 been treasured, had he known that these were the last 
 accents of that almost father's voice that should fall upon 
 his ear ! To the writer, the name of EMOKY is fragrant 
 with a thousand blessed recollections. And many hearts, 
 throughout this continent, will throb in unison with his 
 own, when he declares, that for him, that name is the very 
 synonyme of nobleness and honour, associated, as it is, 
 with all that is elevated in intellect, all that is magnani- 
 mous in self-devotion, all that is pure in virtue, and all that 
 is sublime in piety.
 
 obtrt 
 
 LATE A BISHOP OF THE METHODIST EPISCOPAL CHURCH. 
 
 "TuE grandfather of all the missionaries!" Such was the 
 expressive designation by which the red men of the Far 
 West were wont to speak of him whose benignant features 
 beam upon the reader from the opposite page. For many 
 years the senior superintendent of the Methodist Episcopal 
 Church, an apostolic bishop, deriving his title and his 
 authority from the highest source, and ever exercising his 
 functions with gentleness and diligence, with meekness and 
 yet with firmness and decision, he was esteemed and beloved 
 by the clergy and the laity honoured in life and lamented 
 in death by the refined and the wealthy no less than by 
 the poor and the uneducated. Simple in his manners, and 
 yet gracefully dignified, unobtrusive and diffident, but 
 never forgetful of the responsibilities devolving upon 
 him, eloquent, and of course always plain and intelligi- 
 ble in his public ministrations, he was equally at home 
 in the wigwam of the savage, on the rough stand of 
 the camp-meeting, or when proclaiming the unsearchable 
 riches of Christ from the pulpits of metropolitan cities. 
 His memory is precious, and it is a pleasant thing to trace 
 the successive steps of a life so simple and so honoured, 
 and to mark therein the all-sufficiency of the Saviour's 
 grace.
 
 140 KOBEKT B. KOBEKTS. 
 
 He was a native of Maryland, the son of a poor farmer, 
 who, at the call of his country, shouldered his musket in 
 the war of the Kevolution, and was engaged in the battle 
 of the Brandywine with Lafayette, and at Germantown 
 and "White Plains with "Washington. The patriot-farmer 
 was enabled to give his children but little education, and 
 he left them no patrimony save the legacy of his good 
 name. Robert's early training devolved mainly upon his 
 mother. By her he was taught to read the Scriptures, to 
 say his prayers night and morning, and to recite from the 
 Catechism of the English Church. Some six or eight 
 months schooling from an Irish pedagogue, by whom he 
 was instructed in penmanship, the rudiments of English 
 grammar, and the first rules of arithmetic, completed his 
 scholastic course. As in the case of the two most eminent 
 disciples of the Saviour, at whose bold eloquence the peo- 
 ple marvelled, knowing them to be ignorant and unedu- 
 cated men, so, frequently, after listening to words of power 
 from the lips of the farmer's boy, men were wont to 
 account for the marvel by taking knowledge of him that 
 he " had been with Jesus." His whole ministerial life was 
 an illustration of the glorious verity, that God hath chosen 
 the weak things of the world to confound the things which 
 are mighty. 
 
 When about ten years of age he removed with his 
 parents into "Westmoreland County, in the State of Penn- 
 sylvania, and here, with his mother, he went soon after to 
 hear one of the pioneer heralds of the sect everywhere 
 spoken against. The Methodist preacher brought certain 
 strange things to their ears. His word was with power. 
 The little boy, for the first time, felt himself to be a sinner. 
 He wept and trembled. His father had indeed denounced
 
 ROBERT R. ROBERTS. 141 
 
 the whole sect, and the lad had been taught to regard this 
 messenger of Christ as a false prophet. But this did not 
 soothe his pain, nor extract the rankling arrow. Some- 
 thing within whispered that the words to which he had 
 listened were God's own truth ; and he felt the necessity 
 of changing his course of life, that, if possible, he might 
 avert impending wrath. Now he began to aim at leading 
 a new life. He resolved to be obedient and dutiful to his 
 parents, to shun bad company, to be watchful over his lips, 
 and to read with more care the Bible, and such religious 
 books as fell in his way. 
 
 The plan of salvation by faith was as yet unknown to 
 him ; nor, as it seems, had he any other idea of prayer 
 than as the repetition of forms laid down in the Catechism 
 and repeated from memory. Returning homeward one 
 evening from the labours of the day, (for he was now 
 engaged in assisting his father on the farm,) he overheard 
 in the woods near the house the voice of his sister, some 
 years older than himself, uttering the language apparently 
 of heartfelt trouble and grief. He drew nearer to the 
 spot, and ascertained to his surprise that she was pleading 
 with God for the pardon of her sins. Awe-struck, the lad 
 listened to her supplications. What had Elizabeth done 
 that she, so amiable, so much better than himself, should 
 be in such deep distress, such apparent agony ? He retired 
 without being observed, and said nothing of the strange 
 scene he had witnessed. But he pondered it in his heart, 
 and soon after found his own way to the throne of grace, 
 where, in secret, he also called upon his God. 
 
 Several years elapsed, however, before he found peace 
 in believing. His sisters, then his mother and two of his 
 brothers, and afterwards his father, united with the Meth-
 
 142 ROBERT R. ROBERTS. 
 
 odists, and their dwelling became a regular preaching 
 place for the itinerant ministry. But Robert, industrious 
 in his field-labours, attentive to all the means of grace 
 within his reach, and an earnest seeker of salvation, did 
 not venture to have his name enrolled upon the class- 
 paper. 
 
 " What rough-looking boy is that in the hunter's shirt ?" 
 Such was the not unfrequent inquiry of those who came to 
 his father's house, especially on quarterly-meeting occa- 
 sions, when it was used, a rude log-cabin though it was, as 
 a temple for the solemn worship of the Most High. That 
 rough-looking lad, so busily employed in waiting upon 
 those who came from a distance, in preparing for their 
 accommodation and taking care of their horses, esteem- 
 ing nothing too degrading or too menial, that rough- 
 looking boy in the hunter's shirt is he who is destined to 
 preach Christ to listening thousands from one end of the 
 continent to the other; to superintend the affairs of the 
 most numerous religious denomination in the land; to pre- 
 side over conferences of learned ecclesiastics; to fill the 
 seat of the sainted Asbury as the colleague of the mild 
 M'Kendree, the fervent George, and the sagacious Hed- 
 ding. Scarcely less improbable was it to the eye of human 
 reason, that he who held the murderers' clothes at the 
 martyrdom of Stephen should finish his course with joy, 
 " not a whit behind the very chiefest apostles." 
 
 Robert was now in his fourteenth year, tall and stout 
 for his age, with a body inured to toil, and, his brothers 
 having left the paternal home, the chief dependence of his 
 father in the cultivation of his farm. Still serious, peni- 
 tent, and anxiously seeking to know and to do the will of 
 God, light dawned upon him from the Sun of righteous-
 
 ROBERT R. ROBERTS. 143 
 
 ness while engaged in secret prayer. His own account, as 
 given in after years, is characteristic of the man. " One 
 day," he says, " about sunrise, in the month of May, I was 
 in a corner of the fence praying, when, I humbly trust, 
 my sins were pardoned, and God, for Christ's sake, 
 accepted me. Before that time I had frequently had 
 sweet intimations of the goodness and mercy of the Lord. 
 My heart was tender, and I felt as if I could love God and 
 his people ; but yet, until that morning, my mind was 
 not at rest. Then everything seemed changed. Nature 
 wore a new aspect as I arose and went with cheerfulness 
 to my work, although I did not then know whether I had 
 received all that I should look for in conversion. I never 
 had such alarming views of my condition as some have 
 experienced. My mind was gradually opened, and although 
 I had led a moral life, I firmly believed that my heart must 
 be changed. I do not remember the precise day of my 
 conversion, though the scene, as it occurred that morning, 
 has ever been deeply printed on my memory." 
 
 Such is his own simple narrative of that most important 
 event in his history. And. now the Spirit whispered, " Go 
 thou and preach the kingdom of God;" but his natural 
 diffidence, no less than what he deemed his totally inade- 
 quate education, prevented him from making known to 
 the Church his impressions upon the subject. But he 
 preached, nevertheless. Following the plough or feeding 
 cattle, clearing the land or gathering in the harvest, his 
 mind was intently occupied with subjects for the pulpit. 
 The farm was his theological seminary. There he mused 
 and meditated upon what he had heard on the preceding 
 Sabbath, or read in the intervals of his toil. He made 
 skeletons of sermons, and accustomed himself to the sound
 
 144 ROBERT R. ROBERTS. 
 
 of his own voice by proclaiming to the trees of the forest 
 the glad tidings of salvation. He was appointed leader 
 of a class, and by slow degrees, and after many struggles, 
 acquired sufficient confidence to speak to the members a 
 few words of exhortation. The little flock there in the 
 wilderness were edified, and seconded the motion of the 
 Spirit that the pulpit was the appropriate place for their 
 youthful leader. He was himself satisfied of the fact, and 
 devoted all his leisure to the diligent perusal of the Bible 
 and the writings of "Wesley and Fletcher; but he could 
 not bring himself to ask for a license to preach. He 
 shrunk from the fearful responsibility. The preachers 
 who visited that region invited him again and again to 
 exhort publicly, and to commence the exercise of those 
 gifts with which they knew him to be endowed, but 
 in vain. 
 
 " How ready is the man to go 
 
 Whom God has never sent ; 
 How backward, timorous, and slow 
 
 God's chosen instrument !" 
 
 On reaching his twentieth year, as if to hedge up his 
 way completely from what he nevertheless felt to be the 
 path of duty, he married. This event, it is thought, was 
 hastened, with a view of relieving himself from the pros- 
 pect of the itinerant ministry ; for very few of those who 
 thus sought the lost sheep of the house of Israel were 
 encumbered with families, and the reception into an Annual 
 Conference of a married preacher was in those days an 
 event almost unprecedented. But, his marriage brought 
 no rest to his mind. The impression of duty was not to 
 be shaken off. Mental darkness and dejection of spirits 
 overwhelmed him. He became unfitted for business, and
 
 ROBERT R. ROBERTS. 
 
 was signally unsuccessful in the management of his worldly 
 affairs. Unasked for, a license to exhort was put into his 
 hands, with the hope that it would induce him to go for- 
 ward in the path of duty ; but he made no use of it, and 
 it served only to increase his distress by silently reminding 
 him of what the Church expected and of his own delin- 
 quency. After a sermon on the ensuing Christmas-day, 
 the preacher publicly requested him to come forward and 
 conclude the service with an exhortation. Mr. Roberts 
 declined, and ran out of the house. A few days after, the 
 preacher he was a local preacher, holding an office some- 
 what similar to that of Ananias, who was sent to open the 
 eyes of Saul of Tarsus sent to him, in writing, what he 
 called a vision of the night. "I thought," said he, "I 
 had got free from this region of misery and woe, and was 
 admitted into the world of spirits. I beheld there bright 
 thrones, and one in an exalted station, on which was 
 placed a crown dazzling with brightness. It was fixed 
 near those of the prophets, apostles, martyrs, and eminent 
 ministers of the gospel. I drew nigh to behold it, and was 
 informed it was for you. 
 
 "I thought the Saviour commanded that you should be 
 brought forward to see what was here in reservation for 
 you. In a short time a seraph fulfilled the high command, 
 and you were placed in presence of the great King. The 
 Saviour fixed his eyes upon you, which kindled in your 
 heart a burning love to him, causing you to neglect every- 
 thing else. Overcome by the divine presence, you fell at 
 the glorious feet of the javiour and poured out a flood of 
 gratitude. He said to you, ' Son, thou art ever with me. 
 All this glory shall be thine, yet the way thereto is not 
 only difficult, but contrary to flesh and blood.' I thought 
 
 10
 
 146 KOBEET K. ROBERTS. 
 
 you replied, 'Make known to me the way, and in thy 
 strength will I walk therein.' He then said, ' Go quickly 
 forth among the crowds of earth, and let love and pity 
 raise thy voice aloud to inform them that I am willing to 
 save the chief of sinners from hell and from a dreadful 
 eternity.' " 
 
 In the course of the dream various objections are made 
 by him for whom this bright throne was prepared: his 
 unfitness for so great a work, his lack of gifts, his unholi- 
 ness, his dread of criticism, his pride. By the ingenious 
 dreamer these are all overruled, and shown to be mere 
 delusions of the enemy ; and the conclusion is the utter- 
 ance, by the hitherto disobedient prophet, of Paul's mem- 
 orable words " Woe is me if I preach not the gospel !" 
 
 Frequently in after life was the good bishop wont to 
 advert to the dream of the local preacher; and, now that 
 he is seated upon that throne, and wears that dazzling 
 crown, is it unlawful to suppose that this reminiscence of 
 the past may form an ingredient in his cup of perfect 
 bliss? 
 
 Soon after, at a watch-night, he gave his first public 
 exhortation, having journeyed some six or seven miles on 
 foot for the purpose of being present. He was clad 
 in the garb of a backwoodsman; but his discourse, says 
 one who was privileged to hear it, " was worthy of gray 
 hairs and broadcloth." In fact, the whole congregation 
 were perfectly amazed at the eloquence of his appeal 
 its propriety of language and its force of argument. He 
 preached his trial sermon from the words of the prophet, 
 " O Lord, revive thy work," and was recommended to the 
 Baltimore Conference as a suitable person to be received 
 as a travelling preacher. He did not attend the meeting
 
 EGBERT K. ROBERTS. 14T 
 
 of that body, having, as he conceived, done his duty by 
 consenting that his application should be forwarded, and, 
 with a mind at rest, he awaited the result. The responsi- 
 bility was now thrown from his own shoulders ; and if the 
 Conference had declined to receive him, he would have 
 taken their decision as the voice of God and rejoiced, for, 
 as yet, he dreaded the sacrifices, the trials, and the toils of 
 an itinerant life. Such, indeed, had nearly been the result. 
 On the presentation of his name, objections were made to 
 his reception. Most of the leading members of the body 
 were single men, and young Roberts had a wife. The 
 few who were acquainted with him stated his qualifica- 
 tions and eulogized his talents. They knew Mrs. Roberts 
 also, and were satisfied that she would be no hindrance to 
 her husband in the work of the ministry ; but the preju- 
 dice against receiving married preachers was so strong that 
 but a bare majority voted for his reception, and he was 
 appointed as junior preacher on the Carlisle Circuit. 
 
 As is the case with regard to most of the early Methodist 
 preachers, there are but few memorials of the labours of 
 this young itinerant. "He was powerful and popular 
 from the beginning," is the brief but comprehensive testi- 
 mony of one who knew him well. At the various appoint- 
 ments on his circuit, he was, as a preacher, exceedingly 
 popular. The more intelligent portions of the people of all 
 denominations attended upon his ministry. As a singular 
 peculiarity, it is stated that this tended rather to intimidate 
 than to encourage him ; and, at one of his Sabbath appoint- 
 ments, seeing the multitudes flocking to the house where 
 he was expected to preach, his heart failed him, and he hid 
 himself away until long after the time for commencing 
 worship. He then dragged himself into the church, where
 
 KOBEKT R. KOBEBTS. 
 
 lie hoped to find some local preacher in the pulpit. He 
 was disappointed, entered the sacred desk, and, after a few 
 minutes spent in secret prayer, conducted the service with 
 unusual liberty. " His performance on that occasion," says 
 his biographer, " was spoken of with enthusiasm by the 
 elite of the town, and served as a new reason for the 
 increase of his congregation in future." His unaffected 
 modesty won the hearts of his hearers; his solid good 
 sense instructed the most intelligent; and the deep vein 
 of piety and the holy unction which imbued his discourse, 
 " became wine and fat things to the religious part of his 
 audience." 
 
 With some of his own people, however, he was not so 
 popular. His love of order and decorum, and his natural 
 good taste, revolted from practices which, to some extent, 
 were common in those regions at that day, and which were 
 deemed, by the more enthusiastic, as sure evidences of the 
 divine presence. Loud shouting, jumping, clapping of 
 hands, and falling prostrate upon the floor, embarrassed 
 the young man exceedingly. " We like him," said they, 
 "well enough as a preacher; but when our meetings 
 become lively he stops, and has nothing to say." So it 
 was all through life. As junior preacher, when in charge 
 of a circuit or station, as presiding elder of a district, and 
 when in the office of bishop, he stopped and said nothing 
 during these occasional paroxysms of excited feeling ; but 
 that was all. He uttered no language of rebuke, lest he 
 might thereby cause Christ's little ones to stumble. He 
 stood still, and resumed not his discourse' until the storm 
 had passed away. The result was, that when Roberts was 
 in the pulpit, while there was always deep feeling, mingled 
 at times with the half-stifled sobs of the penitent, the
 
 ROBERT R. ROBERTS. 149 
 
 people controlled these boisterous manifestations, and all 
 things pertaining to divine worship were done in accord- 
 ance with the apostolic direction, decently and in order. 
 
 While he was upon Montgomery Circuit, to which he 
 was transferred at the close of his first year's labour, he 
 was invited to attend a camp-meeting in the neighbour- 
 hood of Baltimore, the first ever held east of the Alleghany 
 Mountains. This was in the summer of 1803. It was a 
 time of great power. Sinners fell in every direction. The 
 noise and confusion unfavourably affected the mind of 
 Mr. Roberts. He became very much troubled. For two 
 days he was in a state of sadness and dejection. He knew 
 not what to do. Balancing the evil and the good, and 
 endeavouring to lay aside his prejudices and preposses- 
 sions, he retired into the woods, where, after a season of 
 secret prayer, his mind became relieved, and he was 
 enabled to take part in the exercises. Thereafter, although 
 he occasionally attended such meetings, and preached at 
 them in the demonstration of the Spirit and with power, 
 he never greatly admired them, and had doubts of their 
 propriety; at least, in those parts of the country where 
 there are houses of worship sufficient to accommodate the 
 people. 
 
 For the sake of his own comments, we may here advert 
 to an undertaking which Mr. Roberts afterward regretted. 
 This was the building of a mill, from the profits of which 
 he hoped to maintain his family. Thirty-seven years after- 
 ward he gives this account of the matter, with advice less 
 needed now, we venture to hope, than in the earlier days 
 of Methodism. "I would advise," he says, "all preachers 
 never to quit the work of the Lord to serve tables. How- 
 ever fair their prospects at making money may be, they
 
 ROBERT K. ROBERTS. 
 
 are frequently delusive, and such ministers are losers in the 
 end. As I had but little support from quarterage, I thought 
 my family could be maintained by a mill, and I should be 
 better able to travel without anxiety. But it was not so. 
 It embarrassed my mind and took up my attention ; and 
 though for a while it did well, it eventually proved a 
 loss." 
 
 The Conference passed a vote of censure upon his con- 
 duct for thus endeavoring to eke out the scanty pittance 
 received for his ministerial support. It seems to us that 
 the censure was more deserved by the people to whom he 
 broke the bread of life. His poverty was so great on one 
 occasion, when about to take a long journey, that all the 
 cash he had in the world was fifty cents, with which, and 
 the like amount borrowed from his colleague, he left the 
 West Wheeling Circuit to attend the General Conference 
 at Baltimore, in the year 1808. With this sum in his 
 pocket he commenced, on horseback, a ride of three hun- 
 dred miles, and reached his destination with five cents 
 unexpended. 
 
 At the Conference he appears to have taken but little 
 part in the public debates, though he was attentive to all 
 the business brought before the body ; and he preached in 
 several of the churches with so much acceptance, that, by 
 the urgent request of the people, Bishop Asbury transferred 
 him from his circuit and gave him the pastoral charge of 
 the church in Light-street, in the city of Baltimore. Here 
 lie maintained his reputation, and, after two years, was 
 transferred to Fell's Point, thence to Alexandria, then to 
 Georgetown; and in the years 1813-14: he was stationed in 
 the city of Philadelphia. The year following he was made 
 presiding elder of the Schuylkill District, and there being
 
 ROBERT K. ROBERTS. 151 
 
 no bishop at the session of the Annual Conference in 1816, 
 Mr. Roberts was chosen to preside over the deliberations 
 of that body. 
 
 In this position our unlettered backwoodsman first 
 evinced his peculiar talent as a presiding officer. Calm, 
 courteous, and perfect master of the rules for the govern- 
 ment of deliberative bodies, all present, including many of 
 the delegates from New- York and New-England, who were 
 on their way to the General Conference at Baltimore, were 
 perfectly charmed with him ; so that, at the meeting of that 
 body, he was elected, on the 14th of May, 1816, one of the 
 bishops of the Methodist Episcopal Church. 
 
 His consecration to this high office made no difference 
 in his frugal habits or his unsophisticated simplicity of 
 character. In preference to residing within the limits of 
 a large city, or even a central village, as many of his friends 
 thought desirable, he located himself in the log-cabin, built 
 by his own hands previous to his entrance upon the minis- 
 try. It had, indeed, undergone some repairs, and was 
 somewhat enlarged when it became the episcopal resi- 
 dence. It was the abode of cheerfulness and hospitality, 
 but far from being what the denizens of a metropolis would 
 esteem comfortable. Thence he emigrated with his family 
 to the State of Indiana, where, in the wilderness, another 
 log-cabin had been erected for him by his brother. It was 
 eighteen miles from the nearest mill, and their first night's 
 rest in this new abode, where the bishop continued to reside 
 until his death, was disturbed by the howling of the wolves. 
 In the intervals of the Annual Conferences he devoted him- 
 self to the clearing of the woods around his dwelling, to 
 hunting, of which he was always fond, and to the cultiva- 
 tion of the soil. During his whole life he might with truth
 
 JL52 ROBERT R. ROBERTS. 
 
 have said, " These hands have ministered to my necessities 
 and to them that were with me." 
 
 At the same time, owing to his economical habits and 
 his industry, he had it in his power to be hospitable and to 
 enjoy, to some extent, the luxury of giving. Knowing the 
 importance of education from his own lack of it, he made, 
 during his lifetime, liberal donations to our principal semi- 
 naries of learning, and at his death made the Asbury Uni- 
 versity his residuary legatee. 
 
 In his journeyings from one Conference to another, 
 which, until the last few years of his life, he performed on 
 horseback, he seldom made himself known to the people 
 among whom he tarried for rest or refreshment. His 
 appearance was that of an honest, well-meaning farmer, 
 simple and unobtrusive. Occasionally some direct ques- 
 tion would cause him to reveal himself; but more fre- 
 quently not until he had gone on his way did those with 
 whom he stopped know that they had been entertaining 
 an angel unawares. 
 
 On one of his Southern tours he reached a village in 
 Virginia where, as he had no personal acquaintances, he 
 stopped at a public house ; and on the next day, which was 
 the Sabbath, went to church, where, seated among the 
 congregation, he listened to a sermon from a Methodist 
 preacher. Another clergyman of the same denomination 
 closed the service, with whom the bishop, being a respecta- 
 ble-looking stranger, was invited home to dinner. They 
 discoursed together of the sermon they had heard, and the 
 bishop, with his usual modesty, answered the questions 
 which were proposed to him. At dinner the young 
 preacher asked a blessing, and continued catechizing his 
 guest as to whence he came, his business, and whither he
 
 ROBERT R. ROBERTS. 153 
 
 was going ; and finally, said he, " What is your name ?" 
 
 " My name," said the bishop, " is Roberts." 
 
 " Roberts ! ah, hum," inquired his host, " Roberts ? Any 
 relation of Robert R. Roberts, one of our bishops ?" 
 
 " That is my name," said the stranger. 
 
 The surprise of the young man may be imagined, but 
 the benignity of the good bishop soon put him at his 
 ease. 
 
 A somewhat similar incident the bishop was himself in 
 the habit of telling, though he carefully suppressed the 
 names of the parties concerned. He was stopping at a 
 tavern for a night on one of his journeys, and, after having 
 partaken of his supper, the landlord and other members of 
 the family proposed to leave him alone while they went to 
 meeting. 
 
 " What kind of a meeting is it ?" asked the stranger. 
 
 " It is what we call a class-meeting." 
 
 " If it would not be intruding, I should like to go with 
 you." 
 
 To this no objection was made, and the bishop accom- 
 panied them. The leader was a young man, full of zeal 
 and of very fair talents. After addressing the members of 
 the class individually he came to the bishop, when the fol- 
 lowing conversation ensued : 
 
 Leader. Well, stranger, have you any desire to serve 
 the Lord and get to heaven ? 
 
 Bishop. I have such a desire. 
 
 Leader. How long have you had this desire ? 
 
 Bishop. I cannot say precisely, but for many years. 
 
 This put the leader upon his met'tle, and he continued, 
 " Well, do you think, old gentleman, that you know any- 
 thing about experimental religion ?"
 
 156 KOBEBT B. BOBEETS. 
 
 were then upon him, and the premonitions of disease 
 warned him that his work was almost done. 
 
 On the following Sabbath he was again induced to 
 preach. His text was, " Blessed are the pure in heart : 
 for they shall see God." It was his last sermon. He 
 retired from the sanctuary, and after a season of suffering, 
 borne with exemplary patience, in his own log-cabin in 
 the wilds of Indiana, the senior bishop of the Methodist 
 Episcopal Church rested from his labours. 
 
 His death was, as might have been expected, calm and 
 peaceful. One asked him, when the symptoms indicated 
 the near approach of the last struggle, if he had any 
 anxiety about the matter. He said, "No. There are 
 some temporal affairs I would like to see adjusted ; but I 
 have no fears. I think I have an assurance, should I die, 
 that I shall be at rest." He then added, with much ear- 
 nestness, " But I have no plea or righteousness of my own. 
 I feel that I am an unprofitable servant, but I die firmly in 
 the belief of those doctrines I have been preaching for 
 more than forty years." There was no outburst of ecstatic 
 joy, but a holy resignation, an undoubting trust, and an 
 unwavering reliance upon the atoning blood of Christ ; and 
 with the same heavenly expression upon his countenance 
 with which it was wont to be lighted up when he poured 
 forth the gushing emotions of his soul in proclaiming the 
 gospel message, he met the last enemy ; and, in the lan- 
 guage of a favourite hymn, 
 
 " Dying, found his latest foe 
 Under his feet at last." 
 
 " It has been my lot," says one who had the privilege 
 of being present, " to witness many death-bed scenes, but
 
 ROBERT R. ROBERTS. 157 
 
 before, NONE LIKE THIS. We did not feel that we were 
 standing by the bed of death, but that we were the hon- 
 oured witnesses of the exaltation of our beloved bishop to 
 the joy of his Lord." 
 
 His body was deposited in a lonely field on his own 
 farm; but the voice of the Church in which he had been a 
 preacher of righteousness for forty-one years, and twenty- 
 seven a bishop, was loud in expressions of dissatisfaction 
 with the spot chosen for his last resting-place. The people 
 of Baltimore were desirous that his remains should be 
 removed with the ashes of Asbury, which rest under the 
 pulpit of one of the churches in that city. Cincinnati and 
 several other towns and villages at the West, preferred 
 their claims for the same honour, but it was finally agreed 
 that the body should be disinterred and removed to the 
 cemetery of the institution he so much loved the Asbury 
 University. This was done in accordance with the unani- 
 mous request of the Indiana Conference, as expressed in 
 some touching resolutions adopted by those who felt most 
 keenly that in his departure they had been bereaved of a 
 friend and a father. 
 
 There, on a beautiful spot, within the enclosure of the 
 college-grounds, with a chaste monument, bearing an epi- 
 taph from the pen of one of his colleagues in the episco- 
 pacy, his body awaits the summons of the last trumpet. 
 
 As the reader will have gathered from this brief sketch, 
 the two most distinguishing traits in the character of 
 Bishop Roberts were modesty and fidelity ; the one border- 
 ing at times upon diffidence, the other always and every- 
 where unswerving. Perhaps no man was so much sur- 
 prised as himself when he was first spoken of for the epis- 
 copal office ; and no one in our own Church, or in any
 
 ROBERT R. ROBERTS. 
 
 other, has worn the dignity with more unassuming meek- 
 ness. To the General Conference of 1836 he offered, in 
 all sincerity, the surrender of his episcopal prerogatives ; 
 not because of weariness in the arduous toils they imposed 
 upon him, nor on account of bodily infirmity, but because 
 he deemed so many of his brethren in the eldership of the 
 Church better qualified than himself for the duties of the 
 office. That body promptly and wisely declined to accept 
 his resignation. They assumed the right of differing from 
 him in opinion on that subject, and he never stood higher 
 in the affection and esteem of his brethren in the ministry 
 and of the entire Church than on that day. While he was 
 thus practically illustrating the admonition of the apostle, 
 " In honour preferring one another," in him was also veri- 
 fied the Saviour's declaration, " He that humbleth himself 
 shall be exalted." It is the testimony of one who was 
 afterward called to the same office, "In him the bishop 
 did not spoil the man nor mar the Christian, nor by exalt- 
 ing minify the minister. The apostle did not hinder the 
 disciple. If primus inter pares, he did not forget the fact 
 that his peers placed him first, and that, through them, the 
 Holy Ghost had made him overseer." 
 
 But his faithfulness in the discharge of every duty, his 
 fidelity to the best interests of the Church, to those over 
 whom his episcopal supervision extended, and to his God, 
 was the crowning glory of his life, and the trait of character 
 which all may imitate, in whatever portion of the vineyard 
 the Master may see fit to employ them. All the energies 
 of his soul and body were consecrated to the service of the 
 Church, and he has received that plaudit which may be 
 thine also, reader, whether thou hast ten talents or but 
 one: "Well done, good and faithful servant."
 
 Qiomme 
 
 *&"$'> IfiJtilDfAlBI iBB&lDjEMKf , ID-ID) , 

 
 (Elijalj 
 
 LATE SENIOR BISHOP OF THE METHODIST EPISCOPAL CHURCH. 
 
 IN this brief pen-and-ink portrait of the late Bishop Hed- 
 ding, we shall not attempt to give the likeness of the man, 
 drawn from opinion. Our purpose is to sketch what he 
 was in a few selected facts from his history. If we suc- 
 ceed in this purpose, he will furnish us an instance of the 
 influence of piety and industry, united with sound common- 
 sense, in giving a noble character, a distinguished position, 
 and eminent usefulness to their subject. We shall find 
 him rising from an humble origin, without artificial aid, 
 and with many disabilities in the way of success, by the 
 force of his own worth, through the grace of God, from the 
 retired condition of a Green Mountain farm-boy, to sit, in 
 the honour of the Episcopal office, among the princes of 
 Israel ; and with a name in the Church, the mention of 
 which is " as ointment poured forth." 
 
 What were his qualifications to become a minister? 
 How did they fit him for the demand of his times ? These 
 are the two questions naturally first presented, and which 
 we shall first attempt to answer. "We shall then be at no 
 loss to determine why " God counted him worthy, putting 
 him into the ministry." It will be necessary, in this 
 attempt, to give a little attention to his early life.
 
 162 ELIJAH HEDDING. 
 
 call upon young Hedding, who was a good reader, to read 
 one of Wesley's sermons, or a selection from Baxter's Call. 
 By this means he became quite intimate with this Zacha- 
 riah and Elizabeth. These public readings had a good 
 influence upon him. They served to continue in his mind 
 his early impressions of religious things; they gave him 
 confidence to appear in public ; and, as he says, " I took 
 great pride in these readings ;" they probably were a 
 school in elocution that improved his style of address for 
 after life. The pious woman of this house showed an in- 
 terest in young Hedding that led her, on many occasions, 
 to seek his conversion. After he had finished reading, and 
 the people had left the house, she would often detain him, 
 and converse with him about what he had been reading, or 
 immediately about the concerns of his soul. 
 
 He derived another, and no inconsiderable advantage 
 from his intimacy with this elect family. Books, es- 
 pecially religious books, were very scarce in that new 
 country, and they had brought with them quite a large 
 library, embracing about all the books then published by 
 the Methodists, both in England and America. To this 
 library he had free access, and he borrowed and read, until 
 he became familiar with all the writings on Wesley an the- 
 ology or Christian experience. Who shall say that his love 
 of reading in subsequent life, and his future eminence as a 
 clear vindicator of the doctrines of his Church, had not 
 their origin in his habits of study of the books borrowed 
 from this lone Methodist family ? 
 
 For nearly three years the Sabbath services were con- 
 tinued in the manner we have described, when the Method- 
 ist itinerants, ever seeking " the regions beyond," first made 
 their appearance in that part of Yermont lying between
 
 ELIJAH BEDDING. 163 
 
 the Green Mountains and Lake Cliamplain, and formed the 
 Vergennes Circuit. Once in six weeks they visited Starks- 
 boro', and preached on Sabbath in the log-house of the pious 
 family to which we have referred. Heading and prayer were 
 continued on the intervening Sabbaths as formerly. The 
 labours of the circuit preachers were followed by the con- 
 version of hundreds. To this time young Hedding had suc- 
 cessfully resisted the frequent deep convictions that he felt 
 while reading the books he had borrowed, or under the per- 
 sonal exhortations of the truly religious woman of whom we 
 have written; but he could resist no longer. One Sabbath, 
 after he had read in public as usual, and she had endeav- 
 oured privately to impress the truths he had read upon his 
 mind, while on his way homeward he turned into a wood 
 by the roadside, and, kneeling beside a great tree, vowed 
 to God to part with all his idols, and seek the salvation of 
 his soul with all his heart. Soon after this, while listening 
 to a sermon from Mr. Mitchell, the circuit preacher, he 
 was, to use his own language, " so affected with a sense of 
 his sinfulness of heart and life he could not help roaring 
 aloud." In much this state of mind he continued for six 
 weeks. He then heard Mr. Mitchell again, and remained 
 after preaching to class. " While in this meeting," he says, 
 " and while the friends were engaged in prayer for me, I 
 found peace of soul, and my conscience was at rest. It was 
 the 27th of December, 1798, and I immediately gave my 
 name as a probationer in the Methodist Episcopal Church. 
 At the next visit of Mr. Mitchell to the place, while in con- 
 versation with him respecting the witness of the Spirit, the 
 light of the Spirit broke in upon my mind, clear and per- 
 ceptible as the light of the sun when it comes from behind 
 a cloud, testifying that I was born of God, and that it was
 
 164 ELIJAH HEDDING. 
 
 at the time I have before named." So unequivocal and 
 marked were his convictions, his conversion, and the 
 testimony of the Spirit thereto. Almost immediately he 
 obeyed the irrepressible desire that he felt, and began to 
 speak of the grace of God in him, and to pray and exhort 
 in the public meetings. In the summer following lie 
 received license as an exhorter, and soon after, at the earn- 
 est solicitation of the preachers, went, in the capacity of an 
 exhorter, for a few months to fill a vacancy that had oc- 
 curred in Essex Circuit, on the western side of the lake. 
 His labours in these three months were attended with 
 great success, and some hundreds professed conversion. 
 Having filled the time of his engagement, he returned 
 home to his former occupation on the farm. 
 
 From the time of his conversion, Mr. Hedding often had 
 serious impressions that it would be his duty to preach the 
 gospel. The preachers frequently told him it was his duty, 
 and once, at a quarterly conference, a license to preach was 
 offered him ; but he uniformly replied that he was not satis- 
 fied that God had called him, and he would not run before 
 he was sent. His views of the great responsibilities of the 
 minister's calling, and the necessity for eminent qualifica- 
 tions, as well as a special appointment from God himself 
 for the work, and, withal, his views of personal unfitness, 
 made him unwilling to believe it his duty whenever the 
 subject was presented to his mind. Still he could not 
 divest his mind of the impression that he ought to preach, 
 and waited for God to make it known to him in such a 
 manner that he could not doubt. He did not wait long. 
 On one occasion, while at work in the barn, and thinking 
 of an appointment he had, as an exhorter, on the following 
 day, the conviction that he ought to preach at that meet-
 
 ELIJAH HEDDING. 165 
 
 ing, and the text that he should use, and the manner in 
 which he should preach, was so clearly impressed on his 
 mind that he durst not refuse. He obeyed the instructions 
 with such comfort to his own mind, and such indications 
 from God that it was approved of the Spirit, that from that 
 time he never doubted that he was called of God to the 
 work of the ministry. 
 
 In the spring of 1800 he received license to preach, and 
 in November following left his home to begin the work of 
 a Methodist itinerant. He laboured by the appointment 
 of a presiding elder till the ensuing spring, when he gave 
 his name, and was admitted on probation in the New-York 
 Conference, holding its session in John-street Church, in 
 New-York city, the 16th of June, 1801. 
 
 A little attention to the incidents of his life already men- 
 tioned cannot fail to present him as one whom the Head of 
 the Church would be likely to count worthy of the sacred 
 office, and to exhibit something of his fitness for that office 
 in reference to the times in which he lived. The doubt 
 that then prevailed in the New-England mind, respecting 
 a clear religious experience as the privilege of Christians, 
 required that the minister, to be fully prepared for his 
 work, should have a personal acquaintance with the 
 operations of grace on his own heart, and be able to 
 speak confidently "the things that he knew." We have 
 seen how he was qualified to meet this prevailing doubt, 
 and to "testify to things he had seen," from the man- 
 ner that the Spirit of God affected his heart in child- 
 hood, and subsequently deeply convinced him of sin, and 
 then genuinely effected his conversion, and clearly testi- 
 fied to his acceptance in the Beloved. Deism, Univer- 
 salism, and Calvinism were the common forms of error
 
 J(jtf ELIJAH HEDDING. 
 
 that then impregnated the public mind. The Methodist 
 minister, in addition to his knowledge of the Bible, needed 
 to have some acquaintance with the writings that clearly 
 met and exposed the errors of these different isms. We 
 have seen how Providence equipped Hedding, even before 
 his conversion, with a good panoply from the library of 
 the pious family of his neighbourhood. At almost every 
 appointment the itinerant was met by formidable oppo- 
 nents, prepared for public cavil or debate. It was well 
 for the young minister of the circuit to be accustomed to 
 appearing before an audience, and to be familiar with 
 public address. Let us not overlook the influence on 
 young Hedding in this respect from the three years' read- 
 ing on Sabbath-days to the company gathered in the log- 
 cabin in Starksboro'. The long and severe rides, and the 
 physical hardships and privations of itinerant life required 
 that the Methodist ministers should be "giants in those 
 days," or the brief service of a few years would prostrate 
 and lay aside the most ardent herald of the truth. Mr. 
 Hedding, reared in the hill country, nerved by the moun- 
 tain breeze, and hardened by the toils of the farm, pos- 
 sessed a constitution, physically developed, that prepared 
 him for herculean labour and unsurpassed endurance. It 
 was not the least of his trials, while, with a glowing zeal, 
 he sought the wandering sheep upon the mountains or in 
 the valleys, and with scarcely the form of pecuniary recom- 
 pense, that he was continually accused as a hireling, and 
 called an intruder in other men's folds. But such slanders 
 were powerless in deterring him from obedience to the call 
 of duty, when he heard continually sounding in his ears, as 
 first he heard it in his barn, " Go ye into all the world and 
 preach the gospel to every creature" "With such qualifica-
 
 ELIJAH HEDDING. 167 
 
 tions for his work, and with a strong discriminating mind, 
 a quick and clear perception of men and things, and a 
 quenchless love for the souls of men and the glory of God, 
 he gave himself to be, for life, an itinerant minister. 
 
 He spent the first six years of his ministry on Platts- 
 burgh, Fletcher, Bridgewater, Hanover, Barre, and Yer- 
 shire Circuits. These circuits covered each a large extent 
 of territory, embracing from ten to fifteen townships, and 
 required to be traversed at least once in four weeks, and 
 some of them as often as once in two weeks. As Method- 
 ism was generally new and pioneer in its mission, he had 
 frequently to introduce himself and his ministry in towns 
 where the itinerant's voice had never been heard. During 
 these six years he travelled usually not less than one hun- 
 dred miles a week, and preached one or two sermons each 
 week-day, and three sermons on the Sabbath. 
 
 An instance of his resolution to overcome difficulties, and 
 his perseverance in prosecuting his work and meeting his 
 engagements, occurred while he was on Fletcher Circuit. 
 As the winter approached, and the country became very 
 muddy, in some places frozen and in others not, his horse 
 became lame and unable to proceed, except at the risk of 
 his life, and to the injury of the beast. Unable to procure 
 another horse, and unwilling to fail in his appointments, 
 he went round the north part of the circuit, a distance of 
 one hundred and fifty miles, on foot, in two weeks, preach- 
 ing once or twice daily, and with his feet wet most of the 
 time, and his boots torn by the ice and frozen mud in the 
 roads and swamps. He often spoke of this pedestrian en- 
 terprise in later years of his life. " I lived through it," 
 said he, "but the exposures and hardships I endured I 
 have never recovered from to this day."
 
 168 ELIJAH HEDDING. 
 
 The year that he travelled Bridge-water Circuit was one 
 of the severest of his ministerial life. The circuit embraced 
 thirteen townships, and he preached in each at least once 
 in two weeks. He had hardly passed round the circuit, 
 before there appeared indications of a powerful revival. So 
 deeply were the people interested, that soon he was often 
 driven to the barns and groves, that they might be accom- 
 modated. So absorbed were they to hear the word, that 
 the scattered population would collect, even in harvest 
 time, on horseback or on foot, for ten and fifteen miles 
 around. At this time, when, as he once described it, 
 "There was the greatest prospect of a sweeping revival 
 that I have ever known," and when his own heart beat 
 high with hopes for the success of the word, he was stricken 
 down with disease. His first attack was dysentery in a 
 malignant form, and so severe that most of his friends 
 concluded that he must die. The good man of the house 
 where he lay sick, without his knowledge, went thirty 
 miles for the Presiding Elder to come and attend his 
 funeral. But the disease took a favourable turn, and he 
 had nearly recovered, when he was smitten down again 
 with rheumatism. The complaint was very violent, and 
 for six weeks he could not turn himself in bed, and most 
 of that time could not stir hand or foot. It was four 
 months before he could walk across his room. The effects 
 of this disease remained with him ; and for nearly fifty 
 years the rheumatic pains were constantly reminding him 
 of the long and painful hours he then suffered. To increase 
 his affliction, the enemies of religion took opportunity, 
 during his sickness, by slander and opposition, effectually 
 to stop the work of God that had so prosperously begun. 
 
 Bishop Hedding was a master in the English language.
 
 ELIJAH HEDDING. 169 
 
 He was noted for the correctness of his pronunciation, the ex- 
 actness of his definitions, and the integrity of his sentences. 
 He always gave preference to pure Anglo-Saxon words. His 
 thorough knowledge of his mother-tongue doubtless con- 
 tributed greatly to his reputation as a preacher, or as an 
 expounder of the law and discipline of the Church. He 
 laid the foundation of this knowledge while he travelled 
 Hanover Circuit. When a boy at school, he had been put 
 to the study of English grammar, and compelled to commit 
 to memory certain lessons ; but he says, "I understood noth- 
 ing of the system, and felt the inconvenience of my ignorance 
 very seriously for the first three years that I travelled, and I 
 determined if possible to overcome it. Having no one to 
 teach me, and being unable to remain in the same neigh- 
 bourhood more than two or three days at a time, I bought 
 a copy of all the different books on grammar that I could 
 find, and went into the study of it thoroughly." For three 
 months he made no new sermons, but preached his old 
 ones, and omitted all other reading. He carried his books 
 on grammar in his saddle-bags; and early and late, at 
 every opportunity, he gave his chief attention to their 
 study, until, at the end of that time, he came to understand 
 the whole system. 
 
 No sooner had he finished the grammar, than he began 
 and read through, in course, and studied carefully, Perry's 
 Dictionary. This dictionary was, at the time, the standard 
 of pronunciation and definition in most of the colleges and 
 schools. As he read it through in order to correct any 
 errors in pronunciation, or in the application of words to 
 which he was accustomed, he marked such words, wrote 
 them off, and committed them to memory. He did the 
 same thing with Perry's list of Scripture names ; and he
 
 ELIJAH WEDDING. 
 
 says, "I found it very beneficial." A few years later, when 
 Walker's Dictionary came to be the standard, he did the 
 same with it, noting wherein they differed. Still later, he 
 applied the same study to Webster's. As the result of this 
 application, he could tell at once how any word was spelled 
 and pronounced, and the nice shades of definition given to 
 it by either Perry, Walker, or Webster. 
 
 We cannot refrain from narrating a novel and prompt 
 way in which he settled a dispute between two members 
 of the Church while he travelled Barre Circuit. In one of 
 the societies on this circuit there were two brothers who had 
 married sisters, and who were related to a majority of the 
 members in the society. A dispute had arisen between 
 them respecting some property, creating much bitterness 
 of feeling, not only between themselves but other members 
 of the Church. He determined, if possible, to effect a 
 reconciliation and settlement, and to restore peace. For 
 this purpose he called the society, about thirty or forty in 
 number, together. Seated between these men, and the 
 wife of each beside her husband, he began to talk over 
 with them the matter in dispute. Soon one of the men 
 charged the other with a lie. Immediately they both 
 sprung to their feet to fight, and the women and many 
 others present began to scream* Mr. Hedding, rising at 
 the same time from his seat, with each hand seized a man 
 by the collar, and, being stronger than either, held them 
 apart. He then began to lecture them on the wickedness 
 of their purposes, reminding them that they were kindred, 
 and members of the same Church, and what a reproach 
 they were bringing upon themselves and the Church, and 
 how they were sinning against God. After he had some- 
 what calmed their feelings by his lecture and exhortation,
 
 ELIJAH HEDDING. 171 
 
 kneeling down, and pulling them on their knees beside him, 
 and still holding each by the collar of his coat, he prayed 
 earnestly and fervently for them. When he had finished 
 praying, he moved the man he held in his right hand and 
 said to him, "Now you pray." The man obeyed, and, con- 
 fessing his sin, and asking God and his brother to forgive 
 him, poured out his soul in supplication and tears. Mr. 
 Hedding, moving the man he held in his left hand, then 
 said to him, " And now you pray." He too, with crying 
 and full confession of guilt, also asked God and his brother 
 to forgive him. They then rose up, and Mr. Hedding said, 
 " Now shake hands, and love one another as brethren, and 
 let us hear no more of this difficulty as long as you live." 
 They embraced each other and made mutual pledges of 
 affection and faithfulness, and the whole society imitated 
 their example. This peremptory and new method of settle- 
 ment proved effectual, and these men lived for some years 
 after, and died on terms of fraternal and Christian fellow- 
 ship. 
 
 The General Conference of 1804 so altered the boundary 
 line between the New-York and New-England Conferences 
 that Mr. Hedding became a member of the latter Confer- 
 ence. He continued a member of that body until the time 
 of his election to the episcopacy, in 1824. During all these 
 years he filled, with distinguished usefulness and accept- 
 ance, either the appointments of presiding elder or stationed 
 preacher. In 1807 and 1808 he was in charge of the New- 
 Hampshire District. Here he had long rides, much work, 
 and poor pecuniary support. The newness and rugged- 
 ness of the country, the want of financial organization on 
 the circuits, and the poverty of the people, made it one of 
 the hardest districts in the Methodist connexion. The first
 
 ELIJAH HEDDING. 
 
 year he received for his services, besides a small amount 
 for travelling expenses, four dollars and twenty-jive cents! 
 "With this he was expected to find his own horse, cloth- 
 ing, and books, and to travel not less than three thousand 
 miles, and preach not less than three hundred sermons! 
 Yet such was his zeal in the cause of his God, and his 
 readiness to give himself to advance it, that, without a 
 murmur or complaint, and with great cheerfulness, he 
 took the same district, and with the same prospect, for 
 the following year. 
 
 Mr. Hedding held a very sacred place in the affections 
 and confidence of his brethren ; yet truth requires us to 
 say that once, though only once, he was the subject of a 
 formal complaint, made against him at the Conference. 
 The charge was of so grave a character as to deserve a pass- 
 ing notice. On one of the circuits of the New-Hampshire 
 District there resided a doctor of medicine, a man of much 
 shrewdness and talent, and a member of the Church. He 
 came to Mr. Hedding with a written charge against one 
 of the preachers of the circuit, requesting that a council 
 might be called to try him. The charge was superfluity 
 of apparel. The specifications were, first, the preacher 
 wore silver knee-buckles in his small clothes ; second, the 
 preacher allowed his wife to wear a mourning veil, on ac- 
 count of the death of some relative. The doctor alleged 
 that these were great grievances to himself and wife and 
 other members of the society. Mr. Hedding told him that 
 these were small matters, and all he could do would be to 
 advise the preacher, for peace' sake, to leave off the buckles 
 and use strings, and the wife, for the same reason, to leave 
 off the veil. Having done this, he supposed it would be 
 the end of the matter ; but when he arrived at the follow-
 
 ELIJAH HEDDINQ. 173 
 
 ing Conference lie found the doctor had forwarded a bill 
 of charges against him, signed by himself and wife, for re- 
 fusing to administer discipline. The doctor's letter was 
 read to the Conference, and they, without debate, voted to 
 dismiss it as unworthy of notice. This was the first and 
 last complaint ever made against him at Conference. 
 
 On the 10th of June, 1810, he was married to Miss 
 Lucy Blish, of Gibsum, New-Hampshire. He became 
 acquainted with her when he travelled the Plattsburgh 
 Circuit, in 1801, and they corresponded occasionally to the 
 time of their marriage. Their long life of happiness and 
 prosperity in the married relation is a sufficient evidence 
 of the wisdom of his choice. 
 
 Some estimate can be formed of the position of Mr. 
 TIedding in his own Conference, by the votes given him 
 for a delegate to the General Conference in 1812. He, 
 with one other, Rev. George Pickering, received every 
 vote but one that was given. When the tellers announced 
 the result of the balloting, Mr. Asbury, with characteristic 
 good humour, remarked, " It is well these brethren lacked 
 one vote, or we should know they voted for themselves." 
 This was not the only expression of their exalted opinion 
 of his merits given by the Conference. At every subse- 
 quent election of delegates, to the time when he was 
 elected bishop, he in no instance lacked more than two 
 votes of the whole number given. 
 
 Mr. Hedding was always ready to show his sympathy 
 for, and to give his counsel and influence to promote, the 
 temporal welfare of the Churches under his care. He 
 showed his zeal and ability in this respect by his suc- 
 cessful efforts to remove the financial embarrassments of 
 the Churches in Boston in 1815. Both the Churches in
 
 174 ELIJAH HEDDING. 
 
 that city were held by one board of trustees, and were 
 over eighteen thousand dollars in debt. The mortgages 
 by which this debt was secured were already due, and the 
 payment was demanded. The members of the Church 
 were generally poor, and were in great distress and con- 
 sternation, expecting every day that their houses of 
 worship would be taken from them. Mr. Hedding and 
 his colleague, Rev. D. Fillmore, turned on every side for 
 relief, but apparently in vain. In this crisis of their 
 affairs he applied for aid to a noble-hearted member, and 
 the only one of much property in the Church. This man, 
 who was largely engaged in business, offered, if Mr. Hed- 
 ding and his colleague would find purchasers for the pews 
 yet remaining unsold in the churches, to the amount of the 
 debt, that he would take the notes of the purchasers, pay- 
 able in such labour or merchandise as each could best pay, 
 and he would himself advance the money to pay the mort- 
 gages. Doubtful of success, and yet determined to do all 
 in their power in so difficult a work, these two men began 
 the task, and unremittingly, from morning till evening, 
 they traversed the city for some months, calling, not only 
 on their own members, but on members of other Churches, 
 as well as on those not members of any Church. To their 
 great joy and surprise they succeeded. A day was 
 appointed for the people to come and bid for the choice 
 of pews and give their notes. The noble man who made 
 the magnanimous offer, gave his check for the amount, the 
 debt was cancelled, and the anxious Church had a day of 
 thanksgiving and rejoicing. 
 
 Although he did not consider it a virtue to wear a dress 
 of canonical shape, and had no sympathy for such a 
 spirit of Pharisaism, Mr. Hedding always advocated and
 
 ELIJAH REDDING. 175 
 
 admired simplicity and plainness of dress; and he con- 
 tended that members of the Methodist Church, whatever 
 their standing in society, ought to be so attired. Perhaps 
 we cannot better give his views on this subject than by 
 relating in his own words, from memory, an incident that 
 occurred while he was stationed in Boston : " A lady 
 called on me one Monday morning in Boston, and said she 
 came to offer herself to join my Church. She was very 
 gayly and expensively dressed. On inquiry, I learned 
 that she was the wife of a wealthy merchant in the city, 
 and niece of Ex-Governor Hancock; that she had been led 
 to seek the Lord from reading Wesley's sermons, which she 
 found in her kitchen, and which belonged to a domestic 
 who was a member of our Church. She had been the 
 day before to hear me preach, as she said, to see if I 
 preached as Wesley preached ; and, being satisfied that I 
 did, she wished to be one of his people. I told her there 
 would be an opportunity to join the Church on the follow- 
 ing Sabbath, but that she ought to know well the char- 
 acter and manners of the people before she joined. 'I 
 perceive,' said I, ' that you are very gayly dressed, and our 
 people are a plain people; moreover, our rules require 
 plainness in all who unite with us, and, if you were to con- 
 tinue to dress as you now are, it would give great offence 
 to the Church ; and you should consider this.' She said 
 she had read our Discipline, and made up her mind to 
 conform to it. On the following Sabbath she presented 
 herself to be received, attired as neatly as I ever wish to 
 see any one, joined the Church, and lived for several 
 years, till her death, a devout and consistent Christian." 
 
 The first religious and family paper, published under 
 the patronage of the Church, was established by the New-
 
 176 ELIJAH HEDDING. 
 
 England Conference. Mr. Hedding was among the origi- 
 nal movers in this work, and was one of the committee 
 appointed by the Conference in 1822 to take measures for 
 its publication. Being the only one of the committee 
 residing in or near Boston, the greater part of the labour 
 devolved upon him. "With characteristic zeal and pru- 
 dence he attended to his duties, and Zion's Herald soon 
 made its appearance. 
 
 The General Conference in 1824 elected him a bishop. 
 The circumstances attending this election reflected great 
 credit on himself, and the successful manner in which for 
 nearly thirty years he discharged his official duties, shows 
 the good judgment of those who voted to raise him to the 
 office. It is but the truth to say that the election of a 
 bishop at that time depended on a party vote. Each 
 General Conference from 1812 to 1824 was much agitated 
 by the discussion of the subject popularly known as "the 
 Presicling-Elder Question." So much interest was taken 
 in this question that it divided the Conferences into 
 two parties, and naturally affected the general elections ; 
 one party, chiefly from the South, contending that the 
 presiding elders should be appointed by the bishops, and 
 the other advocating their election by their respective 
 Annual Conferences. Mr. Hedding was of the latter 
 party. He first appeared, with prominence, in the dis- 
 cussions on this subject in 1816, and again in 1820. A 
 contemporary says of him : " As a disputant he was self- 
 possessed, clear, candid, and convincing." He made so 
 favourable an impression on the minds of his brethren 
 who agreed with him on the subject in controversy, that, 
 in the latter year, they nominated him as their candidate 
 for election to the episcopal office. The state of parties
 
 ELIJAH BEDDING. 177 
 
 was such at the time, that had he consented to the nomi- 
 nation, there is scarcely a doubt but he would have been 
 elected. Li vain, however, they urged him to consent. 
 He peremptorily declined. 
 
 At the General Conference in 1824, the state of the 
 work requiring the election of two bishops, he was again 
 put forward by his friends, and nominated for the office. 
 Although disinclined to allow his name to be used, he did 
 not feel at liberty so positively to refuse as he had done at 
 the preceding Conference. He was elected. The vote sur- 
 prised him, and, rising in his place, with much embarrass- 
 ment he stated to the Conference that he doubted whether 
 the state of his health, and his views of the great respon- 
 sibilities of the office, and his sense of personal unfitness, 
 would allow him to consent to be ordained. He would, 
 however, take time to consider the matter; and retired 
 from the Conference. While walking in the rear of the 
 church where the Conference was in session, meditating 
 on the nature of his position, and praying for direction in 
 the path of duty, he received a message, signed by the 
 secretary of the Conference, that immediately gave decision 
 to his mind. This message was the copy of a resolution 
 offered by two prominent Southern men that he knew were 
 leaders on the opposite side to himself in the prevailing 
 controversy, and passed unanimously by the Conference. 
 It expressed their sense of his fitness for the episcopal 
 office, and also a request that he would consent to be 
 ordained, and not allow any feeling of unworthiness to 
 prevent him from obeying the voice of the Church. After 
 receiving this testimony of the unanimous wish of his 
 brethren, he could no longer hesitate, and was ordained 
 bishop on the 28th of May, 1824. From this time forward 
 
 12
 
 178 ELIJAH HEDDING. 
 
 he occupied a prominent position in the councils of the 
 Church, and increased every year in the esteem and affec- 
 tion of the ministry and people. 
 
 Many years after his election, when the excitement from 
 ultra doctrines and measures made him the subject of 
 attack, Bishop Hedding was often charged with holding 
 sentiments favouring the system of American slavery. 
 But one of his official acts in 1826, when the subject of 
 slavery did not agitate the Church or country, will at least 
 clearly exhibit what were his views respecting slaveholding 
 in the ministry. As near as memory serves we give the 
 account of it in his own words : 
 
 " The General Conference in 1824 voted that the bishops 
 should appoint a delegate to the "Wesleyan body in Eng- 
 land in 1826, and we met in the spring of that year to make 
 the appointment. When we assembled it was found that 
 one of our number was unable to attend. The four bishops 
 present proceeded to nominate the delegate. Two of them 
 named an eminent man of the South, who was known to be 
 a slaveholder. The other two, of whom I was one, objected 
 to the appointment of this man on the ground of his per- 
 sonal connexion with slavery, alleging that it would em- 
 barrass him as a delegate in England, and would give a 
 precedent to the promotion of slaveholders to office, and, 
 at the same time, nominated another distinguished minister 
 who would be free from such objections. The two bishops 
 who had nominated the man from the South refused to 
 yield their nomination, or to concur with ours, because, as 
 they contended, slaveholding should not be a bar to any 
 office in the appointment of the Church. In this state of 
 things, neither side being willing to yield, and being equally 
 divided in our choice, we agreed to adjourn till the follow-
 
 ELIJAH HEDDING. 179 
 
 ing year, when the absent bishop could meet with us. The 
 next year we all met, and it was found that those of us who 
 had been together the year before remained of the same 
 mind. The other bishop was unwilling to take the respon- 
 sibility of giving the casting vote, and after two days' 
 delay decided that we had not authority to make the 
 appointment in 1827, since the General Conference voted 
 it should be done in 1826, and we adjourned without 
 sending the delegate." 
 
 Bishop Hedding, though a man of eminent prudence, 
 and averse to controversy and dispute, had, nevertheless, an 
 opinion that, at proper times, he was ready to express on 
 any question that involved the well-being of the cause of 
 Christ ; and he feared no personal reproach or opposition 
 when he believed it would be beneficial to interpose his 
 judgment and counsel to arrest the imprudence of party 
 zeal, or to maintain doctrines and measures calculated to 
 preserve the integrity of the Church. 
 
 Lay delegation in the Conferences was a greatly agi- 
 tated question in some portions of the Church about the 
 time of his election. In the Pittsburgh Conference 
 many of the leading members were in favour of such 
 a measure. When he attended its session, in August, 
 1826, finding such intense feeling on the subject as to 
 threaten the disruption of the body, he addressed them 
 in reference to the matter, warning them of the evil of 
 some of their measures, and exhorting them to modera- 
 tion and calmness in their discussion of the agitated ques- 
 tion. For this address he was publicly attacked and mis- 
 represented, and, as the bishop believed, to the injury 
 of his character and influence, and to the hurt of the 
 Church, Having sought in vain for reparation in the
 
 180 ELIJAH HEDDING. 
 
 same paper where the attack and misrepresentations had 
 been made, he called the attention of the General Confer- 
 ence to the subject in 1828. The committee on episcopacy, 
 to whom the matter was referred, after hearing the state- 
 ments of the delegates from the Pittsburgh Conference and 
 the bishop's own statement of the address, as recollected by 
 himself, declared that the writer of the offensive publica- 
 tion "had injuriously misrepresented Bishop Hedding, and 
 that the address of the bishop was not only not deserving 
 of censure, but such as the circumstances of the case ren- 
 dered it his official duty to deliver." 
 
 Bishop Hedding was remarkable for the gentlemanly 
 simplicity of his manners. He conceived that the highest 
 praise which he or any man could receive was the testi- 
 mony of being & faithful, approved, and successful Method- 
 ist minister. He shrunk from the idea of superior claim, 
 or making pretension to superior privileges, because of his 
 office. Wherever he travelled among strangers, though 
 always ready to avow himself a Methodist preacher, he 
 never introduced himself as a bishop. This often led him, 
 greatly to his amusement and sometimes to his inconveni- 
 ence, to discover that some men who would be patronizing 
 and condescending to the preacher, could be servile and 
 humble to the bishop. We venture to narrate an instance 
 of this kind. Travelling with a horse and sulky, on one of 
 his long rides from Conference to Conference, he came, on 
 Saturday afternoon, to a manufacturing village near the 
 western part of the State of Massachusetts. As was his 
 custom where he knew no private member of the Church 
 in the place, he went direct to the stationed preacher's, and 
 found him absent. Next he went to the public-house, and, 
 while his horse was feeding, inquired of the landlord who
 
 ELIJAH HEDDING. 181 
 
 were the principal Methodists in the place. He was 
 referred to one of the large manufacturers of the village, 
 as the landlord said, "the richest man in the place," who 
 lived not far off in a splendid mansion. He walked to 
 the house, and found the lady of the "richest man" at 
 home. Having introduced himself as a Methodist preacher 
 on a journey, he stated that he designed to remain in the 
 place over Sabbath ; and, preferring to stay with some of 
 the brethren than at a tavern, he had called to see if it 
 would be convenient for them to accommodate him. She 
 said, with common civility, she would send to the factory 
 for her husband. He soon came, and showed, by his 
 haughty and forbidding air, that he felt he was the " chief 
 man of the village." The bishop again stated his object 
 in calling, and, after sitting some time without receiving a 
 reply, arose to depart, when the man said, "I suppose we 
 can let you stay." The bishop replied, "If it is convenient 
 I will ; but if not, I would not be a burden." 
 " O," said the man, " I guess you can stay." 
 The bishop, who by this time had taken the measure of 
 his host, and more to test his hospitality than save his pence, 
 said, " I have a horse at the tavern ; if you have a barn and 
 feed I will bring him." 
 
 " "We have hay," said the man, " but no grain." 
 " Well," said the bishop, " I can bring grain from the 
 tavern, if your hay is good." 
 
 " It is good enough for your horse," was the quick reply. 
 The man returned to his factory, and the bishop went to 
 the tavern, bought the oats, and brought the horse and put 
 him in the barn. He spent the remainder of the afternoon 
 and evening without being favoured with much of the 
 society of " mine host " or his lady. When he came to
 
 182 ELIJAH HEDDING. 
 
 retire for the night he was shown to a small attic-room, in 
 a wing of the splendid mansion, with two beds in it, with 
 three apprentices just from the factory for room-mates, and 
 one of them for a bed-fellow, all of whom seemed to par- 
 take of the spirit of their master, and treated the bishop as 
 unwelcome and an intruder. He felt ere this quite inclined 
 to remove to the tavern, but a disposition to see the end 
 prevailed, and he remained. In the morning his host said 
 to him, " There is to be a love-feast at the church ; maybe 
 you would like to go." 
 
 " Certainly," said the bishop ; and they proceeded to the 
 church. He had been seated but a few moments in the con- 
 gregation when the preacher came in and took his seat in 
 the altar. His host went and spoke to him, and the bishop 
 perceived that he was directing the preacher's attention to 
 himself. The preacher, rising up hastily and opening 
 wide his eyes, exclaimed, so as to be distinctly heard in the 
 house, "It's the bishop! It's the bishop /" It need not 
 be stated that the bishop was invited to take charge of the 
 love-feast, and preached the morning sermon. The service 
 being over he left the house ; and his host, evidently morti- 
 fied and chagrined, walked for some distance by his side, 
 when suddenly, with a half- vexed and half-fawning tone, he 
 exclaimed, " Why did 'nt you tell me you were a bishop ?" 
 The bishop simply said, " I am but a Methodist preacher, 
 and entitled to no more civility or attention than the hum- 
 blest of my brethren." His host pressed him with suppli- 
 ant earnestness to stay to dinner, but he preferred to dine 
 elsewhere. 
 
 His labours for the first eight years of episcopal service 
 were very arduous. His extensive travel and frequent 
 preaching, besides presiding in more than fifty Conferences,
 
 ELIJAH HEDDING. 183 
 
 and making the appointments of the preachers, together 
 with the care and responsibility continually resting upon 
 him, seemed to him more than his health and strength could 
 sustain, and he seriously meditated resigning his office at 
 the General Conference in 1832. He would not, however, 
 take so important a step without consulting with his 
 brethren, the delegates from the New- York and New- 
 England Conferences. They expressed it as their unani- 
 mous opinion that he ought wholly to relinquish the idea 
 of ever resigning the episcopal office, or of discontinuing 
 the exercise of it at any time, unless under some imperious 
 dispensation of Providence compelling him to do so. 
 Yielding to their advice, he continued to attend to his epis- 
 copal duties with accustomed zeal and faithfulness. 
 
 Any sketch of the character or life of Bishop Hedding 
 would be very incomplete without a notice of the trials 
 through which he passed in the performance of his official 
 duties, from 1836 to 1841. These were years of threat- 
 ening excitement, that affected many of the Northern and 
 Eastern Conferences, arising from the doctrines and meas- 
 ures of abolitionism. For some reason it became his duty, 
 more than of any of his colleagues, to have the charge of 
 those Conferences where ultra measures on the agitating 
 subject were attempted. This may have arisen from the 
 fact that he had an extended personal acquaintance with 
 the members of those Conferences, and could therefore keep 
 a salutary check on any plans that might prove destructive 
 to the peace and unity of the Church ; or, it might be that 
 his known prudence and good judgment, sustained by his 
 ability as a presiding officer, were supposed to be a sure 
 guarantee that he would not suffer the cause of God to 
 be jeoparded by any rashness in the leaders of the agita-
 
 184 ELIJAH HEDDINO. 
 
 tion. It would have been ground of thankfulness to him, 
 if he could have been excused from the painful labours, 
 through which duty required him to pass, in these five 
 years of fearful excitement. But he was the last man to 
 yield the post to which duty assigned him. Many things 
 contributed to distress his mind in these troublous times. 
 Some of those who led the agitation were his old and inti- 
 mate friends ; and it grieved his soul to see those with whom 
 he had laboured for years in intimate fellowship and peace 
 embracing sentiments and advocating measures that he 
 fully believed would injure themselves, as well as hurt the 
 cause of God ; and he was pained to be compelled to re- 
 monstrate with them, and to warn them of the evil that he 
 saw inevitably following their course. He dearly loved the 
 Church, and his heart sickened as he saw the devastation 
 produced by the alienations, suspicions, and hostilities 
 among brethren, through the intemperate discussions that 
 were had on the disturbing subject. He became himself 
 the object of attack : for doing what he believed to be his 
 duty, and what the interests of religion imperatively re- 
 quired, he was loaded with reproaches, and slanders. Some 
 of the leaders of the agitation followed him from Confer- 
 ence to Conference, and, by publications and harangues, 
 called in question the integrity of his sentiments, and im- 
 peached his administration as tyrannical and oppressive. 
 Undaunted, he swerved nothing from the line of duty. To 
 the young and deceived he was patient, forbearing, and 
 paternal in his counsels ; to the intractable and obstinate he 
 was decided and prompt in his warnings ; and after a few 
 years he had the happiness to see the threatened storm pass 
 by, and the satisfaction of knowing that his faithful admin- 
 istration had proved effectual in restoring harmony to the
 
 ELIJAH BEDDING. 185 
 
 troubled Churches. It was a favourite plan of his oppo- 
 nents, during this agitation, to attempt in various ways to 
 embarrass him as presiding officer ; but all their attempts 
 were promptly met and frustrated. The crafty were often 
 taken in their own net. One of many instances of the kind 
 will be given : He had stated in a public address on dis- 
 cipline, that it might be the duty of a bishop, in case a 
 majority of the members of a Conference should embrace 
 erroneous or heretical doctrines, or become addicted to any 
 sinful practices, and therefore could not be impartially 
 tried in their own Conference, to transfer a portion of them 
 to some other Conference, where they could be fairly tried. 
 A member of a New-England Conference, who soon after 
 left the Church and embraced the wild vagaries of a 
 modern delusion, introduced a preamble and resolution for 
 the action of the Conference, which, having stated the doc- 
 trine as taught by the bishop, went on further to say : "And 
 whereas many of the preachers in the Southern conferences 
 are so far connected with slavery, and are slaveholders, 
 that they cannot be impartially tried in their own confer- 
 ences for any violations of the discipline on that subject, 
 therefore, Resolved, that Bishop Hedding be respectfully 
 requested to transfer such preachers to Northern conferences, 
 where the discipline in their case may be impartially ad- 
 ministered." He immediately saw the mischievous design 
 of the resolution, and, rising from his chair, said: "Well, 
 brethren, if you are prepared for the resolution, I am ready 
 to put it. But you must bear in mind, that if we transfer 
 men from the South to the North, we must also transfer men 
 from the North to the South, to fill their places. We now 
 need a preacher in New-Orleans, and the first man I trans- 
 fer will be brother R , the mover of the resolution.
 
 186 ELIJAH HEDDING. 
 
 Are you ready for the question?" A motion was imme- 
 diately made to lay the preamble and resolution on the 
 
 table, and the friends of brother R were glad to vote 
 
 for it ; and it was carried by a unanimous vote. 
 
 Christian magnanimity, that would not allow him to cher- 
 ish resentment for any injury inflicted on himself, was a 
 noble trait in the character of Bishop Hedding. He could 
 not but feel the smart, but he forgave the offender. His was 
 the spirit of his Master, who, with a liberal charity, was ever 
 ready to say of his opposers, "They know not what they 
 do." He showed this magnanimity toward his brethren of 
 the New-England Conference at the General Conference in 
 1840. That conference, as much as any other, had attempted 
 disorganizing measures, and, by resolutions and votes, had 
 implicated and endeavoured to embarrass his administra- 
 tion. He believed that the most of its members had seen 
 the error of their course, and at this General Conference 
 interposed to prevent any censure being cast upon them. 
 
 The Committee on Itinerancy, to whom is intrusted the 
 examination of the records of the several Annual Confer- 
 ences, made a report, in the preamble of which they ac- 
 cused the New-England Conference, for the four years 
 preceding, of being "disorganizing in their proceedings, 
 and to have pursued a course destructive to the peace, 
 harmony, and unity of the Church." When the question 
 came for the adoption of the report, and it was probable 
 that it would be adopted, Bishop Hedding, forgetful of the 
 reproach which the hasty action of that Conference had cast 
 upon him, with an earnest apology or plea in its behalf, 
 prevailed on the General Conference to lay the report on 
 the table. 
 
 As a presiding officer in the Conferences, Bishop Hed-
 
 ELIJAH BEDDING. 187 
 
 ding had no superior. His knowledge of business, and his 
 thorough acquaintance with the rules that govern deliber- 
 ative bodies, qualified him in an eminent degree for the 
 duties of a president. An instance of this was given while 
 presiding at the session of the General Conference in 1840. 
 A motion, in which considerable interest was felt, was put 
 by him, and the vote declared to be a tie. He was called 
 upon to give the casting vote, but declined, saying, that 
 though he had no objection to express his opinion on the 
 question before the conference, in a proper way, he did not 
 believe it lawful for a bishop to vote in the General Con- 
 ference. This declaration created some astonishment, and 
 the more as it had been done by other presidents, in other 
 cases. But he went on to give his reasons, from analogy, 
 so clear and convincing, that not a member of the body 
 doubted the correctness of his decision. 
 
 He regarded the election to the episcopacy as an elec- 
 tion to office, and though, in the nature of the case, not 
 properly an office for frequent change, as many inferior 
 appointments, yet by no means requiring the continuance 
 of the incumbent when health or other causes called for 
 resignation. "With such views, and suffering much from 
 acute or chronic disease, he often consulted with his breth- 
 ren on the propriety of resigning his office, and, at different 
 times, even to the last General Conference he attended, 
 intimated to that body a doubt if the state of his health 
 would justify them in expecting him to do effective ser- 
 vice, and a readiness to resign. But the Church had too 
 high an opinion of his worth as a counsellor, and too 
 grateful a femembrance of his faithfulness in all the trusts 
 she had confided to him, to think for a moment of allow- 
 ing him to resign ; and, at different General Conferences,
 
 188 ELIJAH HEDDING. ' 
 
 when he referred the subject to them, voted that he should 
 be expected to perform such service only as he should 
 judge his health would permit him to do. He continued, 
 however, an effective bishop, presiding in Conferences, 
 fixing the appointments of the preachers, and giving, 
 orally or by letter, such official counsel as the functions 
 of his office required, to within a short time before his 
 death. 
 
 As the several primary rays of light in proper combina- 
 tion form a pure white, so the happy union and propor- 
 tion of his many noble qualities gave to Bishop Hedding 
 a completeness of character. From whatever point he is 
 observed whether as a man, a Christian, a minister, or a 
 bishop he seems entire and without fault. "His mind, 
 naturally clear and discriminating, had been well-matured 
 by reading and study, by intercourse with men, and by a 
 large and well-improved experience. He was possessed 
 of great simplicity and sincerity of manner, a peculiar 
 and confiding openness in his intercourse with his brethren, 
 that at once won their confidence and affections. At the 
 same time, his natural dignity and great discretion made 
 him an object of reverence as well as of affection. His 
 great shrewdness, and his almost instinctive insight into 
 the character of men, guarded him from becoming the 
 dupe of the crafty and designing. His heart was as true 
 as it was large in its sympathies. His brethren never in 
 vain sought his counsel or his sympathy. The soundness 
 of his views upon the doctrines and discipline of the 
 Church was so fully and universally conceded, that in the 
 end he became almost an oracle in these respects ; and his 
 opinions are regarded with profound veneration. As a 
 theologian and divine, his views were comprehensive, logi-
 
 ELIJAH HEDDING. 189 
 
 cal, and well-matured. His discourses were an example 
 of neatness, order, perspicuity, and completeness. He 
 had a most tenacious memory. His mind was richly 
 stored with incident and anecdote, as well as with all 
 kinds of the most valuable knowledge, collected from 
 books, from observation, and from experience. His con- 
 versational powers were of a high order the events of 
 the past seemed to start up from their lurking places, and 
 come forth with all the freshness and life of recent occur- 
 rences. There was often with him a genial sprightliness, 
 humour, and wit, and a keen sense of the ludicrous, that 
 macle him a most companionable friend. Yet his cheer- 
 fulness never descended below the purity of the Christian 
 character, or the dignity of the Christian man. His, too, 
 was a most liberal and catholic spirit. He toiled long and 
 hard to build up the Church of his early choice; and his 
 affections were deeply wedded to that Church ; but they 
 were not exclusive. He felt a kindred sympathy for 
 Christians of every name, and felt, too, that he was with 
 them a common partner in the kingdom and patience of 
 Christ Jesus. His nature was too noble, his heart too 
 large, and his views too broad and enlightened to admit 
 of his being cut off from sympathy with the common 
 brotherhood of the Christian faith. Yet he felt that God 
 had appointed him to his sphere of labour, and it was his 
 highest joy to pursue it."* 
 
 The first acute attack that proved the premonitor of 
 approaching death was on the 28th of December, 1850. 
 From this time, for more than fifteen months, "his decline 
 was gradual, sometimes relieved by favourable indications, 
 and at other times accelerated by sudden and alarming 
 
 Quarterly Review, January, 1853.
 
 190 ELIJAH BEDDING. 
 
 steps." His intellect, notwithstanding his intense and pro- 
 tracted bodily sufferings, remained clear and vigorous to 
 the last. " His conversation during the last months and 
 weeks of his life was heavenly and edifying beyond de- 
 gree." To different brethren in the ministry who were 
 privileged to visit him in his last sickness, he often spoke 
 of his love for the Church, of the sufficiency of the atone- 
 ment, and of his joy and confidence as he trusted in it 
 alone for salvation. He spoke of heaven, and of his 
 assurance that he was going thither. He exhorted them 
 to preach Christ while they had life and strength. The 
 nearer the final moment approached, the brighter seemed 
 his prospects of the glorious world to which he hastened. 
 Almost the last uttered sentences of the victorious Chris- 
 tian minister and bishop were, " Glory, glory ! Glory to 
 God ! glory to God ! glory to God ! Glory ! I am happy 
 filled !" He died on the 9th of April, 1852.
 
 * *
 
 oljn 
 
 CHRISTIANITY did for the Rev. JOHN FLETCHER all that it 
 can do for an inhabitant of this earth. It fulfilled in him 
 every precept of the decalogue, and every beatitude of the 
 sermon on the mount. Whatever the gospel makes a duty 
 he performed, whatever it promises as a privilege he 
 enjoyed. In life and death he may have had a few equals, 
 but no superior throughout the Christian age. His life was 
 like the sea of glass in the Apocalypse, and his death like 
 the same sea " mingled with fire." 
 
 He was born at ISTyon, in Switzerland, Sept. 12th, 1729. 
 Like every boy that has ever grown to manhood, he was 
 frequently in imminent peril. At one time he was prac- 
 tising the art of fencing with his brother, who nearly killed 
 him by a thrust of his sword, which split the button on the 
 point of it, and entered his side. At another time, he fell 
 from a high wall, and was barely saved by a bed of mortar 
 which broke the violence of his fall. Once he was swim- 
 ming in deep water, when a long hair-ribbon, becoming 
 loose, twisted about his person, and nearly drowned him. 
 One evening, in company with four others, he foolishly 
 swam to a rock five miles from the shore, where they all 
 nearly perished, not being able for some time to raise them- 
 selves out of the water. At another time he was carried
 
 192 JOHN FLETCHER. 
 
 by the rapids of the Rhine a distance of five miles, when 
 his breast struck one of the piles that supported a powder- 
 mill, and for twenty minutes he floated senseless under the 
 mill. Mr. "Wesley believed that the preservation of his life 
 among the piles was a miracle wrought by the power of 
 angels. It was at least a manifest instance of a special 
 providence, which, when human wisdom and strength can 
 do no more, "keeps our soul in life." And who can dis- 
 tinguish this from a miracle ? 
 
 Mr. Fletcher was educated principally at the University 
 of Geneva, where his uncommon abilities bore away prize 
 after prize from young gentlemen who were nearly related 
 to the professors. Having accomplished the usual course, 
 and gained the honours of the first class, his father wished 
 him to enter the ministry. From his childhood he had 
 secretly desired the holy ofiice ; but about the time of leav- 
 ing the university, he changed his mind in favour of a 
 military life. His parents remonstrated, but he persisted. 
 He had learned to tremble at the thought of touching the 
 ark, and preferred the dangers of the camp to the responsi- 
 bilities of the Church. His parents were grieved and 
 refused their consent. He started for Lisbon, and procured 
 a commission in the Portuguese navy. A few days before 
 the ship sailed, a maid, while serving him at the table, 
 spilled the hot tea on his foot. The ship left without him, 
 and was never after heard of. How much the Church is 
 indebted to the blunder of an awkward girl ! Yet, 
 
 " There 's a Divinity that shapes onr ends, 
 Rough-hew them as we will." 
 
 He returned from Lisbon, accepted a commission in the 
 Dutch army, and immediately set out for Flanders; but
 
 JOHN FLETCHER. 
 
 before he reached the camp, the war was suddenly closed 
 by the peace of Aix-la-Chapelle. From that time he dis- 
 missed all thoughts of a military life, and thus in the provi- 
 dence of God, he who was designed for the service of the 
 Prince of Peace was not permitted to become " a man of 
 blood." 
 
 Soon after he laid by his sword his " unfleshed sword," 
 as the savage word now goes he went to England, where, 
 under the tuition of a Mr. Burchell, he studied the English 
 language for eighteen months, and mastered it so thoroughly 
 that Mr. Wesley thought no foreigner ever wrote it with 
 greater purity and elegance. After this, he became a 
 private tutor to the two sons of Mr. Thomas Hill, in Shrop- 
 shire. It was during his connexion with this family that 
 Mr. Fletcher first heard the Methodist name. Mr. Hill 
 went to London to attend parliament, and took with him 
 his family and young tutor. As they rode through St. 
 Albans, Fletcher, who was on horseback, happened to 
 meet a poor woman, who engaged him in religious conver- 
 sation. The incident detained him for a long time behind 
 his company. When he came up they inquired the cause 
 of his delay. He answered that he had met with a poor 
 woman, who talked so sweetly to him of Christ that he 
 r could not get away. "I shall wonder," said Mrs. Hill, 
 " if our tutor does not turn Methodist." " Methodist, 
 madam," said he; "what is that?" She replied, "They 
 are a people who pray day and night." "Then," said 
 he, " by the help of God I will find them, if they be 
 above ground !" 
 
 Shortly after this he took the vows of God upon him for 
 a life-long service. He had indeed feared God from child- 
 hood ; but it was not till the twenty-fifth year of his age 
 
 13
 
 194 JOHN FLETCHER. 
 
 that he experienced that great spiritual change which the 
 New Testament describes as a " new birth," a " new crea- 
 tion," a "passing from death to life," and a calling "out 
 of darkness into his marvellous light." The Scriptures 
 clearly mark this as a new era of a man's life, an event, an 
 epoch in his history, as distinctly defined as the commence- 
 ment of civil manhood is defined by the laws of civilized 
 nations. The account of this divine renewal we have from 
 his own pen, but it is too long to be inserted in this brief 
 sketch.* It is sufficient to say, that after many strong cry- 
 ings with tears, much fasting, and much reading of the Scrip- 
 tures, and many conversations with devout men, he rose from 
 the dark land into light and joy. But the light was like the 
 first faint rays of the dawn, and the joy was little more 
 than the bare relief of a heavy heart. He prayed most 
 devoutly that he might not be deceived as to the reality of 
 his conversion. The prayer was soon answered. One day, 
 while lying prostrate on the floor, his faith grew into a 
 vision of Christ on the cross, and as he looked, he cried 
 from the overwhelming joy of his heart : 
 
 " Seized by the rage of sinful men, 
 
 I see Christ bound, and bruised, and slain 
 
 ? T is done, the martyr dies ! 
 His life to ransom ours is given, 
 And lo ! the fiercest fire of heaven 
 
 Consumes the sacrifice. 
 
 He suffers both from men and God, 
 He bears the universal load 
 Of guilt and misery ! 
 
 See Benson's Life of Fletcher a piece of spiritual biography of un- 
 rivalled excellence. The late Dr. Fisk said he was more deeply indebted 
 to it than to any other uninspired book.
 
 JOHN FLETCHER. 195 
 
 He suffers to reverse our doom, 
 And lo ! my Lord is here become 
 The Bread of Life to me \" 
 
 From that time he doubted no more. The darkness was 
 past, and the true light shone with no dubious ray. He 
 now began a life of unceasing mortification, and, as he 
 afterward confessed, of unjustifiable austerity. He never 
 slept while he could keep awake. He spent two whole 
 nights in each week in reading, meditation, and prayer. 
 He lived entirely on vegetables, and ate only enough of 
 these to keep him on his feet. This severe treatment of 
 himself he afterward regretted, as it injured his health and 
 laid the foundation of future disease. Besides this, he said 
 to Mrs. Fletcher, "When the body is brought low, Satan 
 gains an advantage over the soul. It is certainly our duty 
 to take all the care we can of our health. But at that time 
 I did not seem to feel the want of the sleep I deprived my- 
 self of." 
 
 Kot long after his conversion, the purpose of his child- 
 hood was renewed. His burning heart turned toward the 
 ministry. But what enlightened man can think of that 
 without trembling ? His new conscience looked at it with 
 a hundred eyes. Charles "Wesley had sung a note of 
 terror : 
 
 " How ready is the man to go, 
 Whom God has never sent ! 
 
 How cautious, diffident, and slow, 
 His chosen instrument!" 
 
 Fletcher felt this deep in his heart. He wrote to Mr. 
 "Wesley : 
 
 " I am in suspense. On one side, my heart tells me I 
 must try; and tells me so whenever I feel any degree of
 
 196 JOHN FLETCHEK. 
 
 the love of God and man : on the other, when I examine 
 whether I am fit for it, I so plainly see my want of gifts, 
 and especially that soul of all the labours of a minister, 
 love, continual, universal, naming love, that my con- 
 fidence disappears. I accuse myself of pride, to dare to 
 entertain the desire of supporting the ark of God, and con- 
 clude that an extraordinary punishment will sooner or later 
 overtake my rashness. As I am in both of these frames 
 successively, I must own, sir, I do not see which of these 
 ways before me 1 can take with safety, and shall gladly be 
 ruled by you, because I trust God will direct you in giving 
 me the advice you think will best conduce to his glory, 
 which is the only thing I would have in view in this affair. 
 I know how precious your time is, and desire no long an- 
 swer. Persist, or forbewr, will satisfy and influence, rev- 
 erend sir, your unworthy servant, J. F." 
 
 We are ignorant of Mr. Wesley's answer, yet think we 
 could almost copy without having seen it. John Wesley 
 could give but one answer to such a letter from John 
 Fletcher. In substance it was, "Persist" On the 6th of 
 March, 1757, he was ordained deacon, and the next Sunday, 
 presbyter, by the Bishop of Bangor, in the Chapel Royal 
 at St. James. He hasted from the altar where he received 
 ordination, to assist Mr. Wesley in administering the sacra- 
 ment at West-street Chapel. In the course of that year he 
 preached in their own language to a company of French 
 prisoners at Tunbridge. The soldiers, deeply affected, 
 requested him to preach to them again. But the Bishop 
 of London interfered and forbade him. The bishop shortly 
 after died of a cancer in his mouth. " A just retribution," 
 thought Mr. Wesley, " for silencing such a prophet." Per-
 
 JOHN FLETCHER. 197 
 
 haps it was ; but who shall interpret the ways, especially 
 the judgments of God ?* 
 
 In the course of this year, and after his reputation as a 
 preacher began to be known, he availed himself of an 
 opportunity to call upon the eccentric but useful Mr. 
 Berridge, the Yicar of Everton. Fletcher introduced him- 
 self as a raw convert, who had taken the liberty to call 
 upon him for the benefit of his instruction and advice. 
 From his accent and manners, Mr. Berridge perceived that 
 he was a foreigner, and inquired what countryman he was. 
 " A Swiss, from the canton of Berne," was the reply. "From 
 Berne ! then probably you can give me some account of a 
 young countryman of yours, one John Fletcher, who has 
 lately preached a few times for the Messrs. "Wesley, and of 
 whose talents, learning, and piety, they both speak in terms 
 of high eulogy. Do you know him ?" " Yes, sir, I know 
 him intimately ; and did those gentlemen know him as well, 
 they would not speak of him in such terms, for which he 
 is more obliged to their partial friendship than to his own 
 
 A propensity to judge in this respect was one of the very few errors 
 of this eminently wise and good man. It was almost the only point on 
 which his enemies fairly fastened him. Take this case. The Bishop of 
 London must needs die like other men. To die by a cancer in the mouth 
 is not worse than to die by twenty other diseases. We knew a holy man 
 who died by a most painful disease under his tongue. How then shall we 
 distinguish the judgment, where the cause is common? An anecdote of 
 Milton teaches on this subject an important lesson : The Duke of York 
 (afterward James II.) one day called on the great poet, after he had gone 
 blind. During the interview the duke imprudently asked him if he did 
 not think his blindness a judgment of God, for the part he had taken 
 against his late father, Charles L Milton replied, "If your highness thinks 
 that the calamities which overtake us in this world are all judgments of 
 God for our sins, what shall I think of your royal father? / have lost my 
 eyes, but he lost his head .'"
 
 198 JOHN FLETCHER. 
 
 merits." " You surprise me," said Mr. Berridge, " in speak- 
 ing so coldly of a countryman in whose praise they are so 
 warm." " I have the best reason," he replied, " for speak- 
 ing of him as I do I am John Fletcher !" " If you be 
 John Fletcher," said Mr. Berridge, " you must do me the 
 favour to take my pulpit to-morrow; and when we are 
 better acquainted, without implicitly receiving your state- 
 ment, or that of your friends, I shall be able to judge for 
 myself." Thus commenced an intimacy with Mr. Berridge 
 which controversy could not interrupt.* 
 
 We pass over a period of three years, during which Mr. 
 Fletcher still remained as tutor in the family of Mr. Hill. 
 One of his pupils died as soon as he became of age, and the 
 other became a member of Parliament for Shropshire, and 
 finally took his seat in the House of Peers. Mr. Hill, as a 
 mark of his high esteem for Mr. Fletcher, and an additional 
 compensation for the valuable service rendered to his two 
 sons, presented him the living of Madeley. This was in 
 1760. We find the curious account of this presentation in 
 the work just quoted: 
 
 " One day Mr. Hill informed him that the living at 
 Dunham, in Cheshire, then vacant, was at his service. 
 ' The parish,' said he, ' is small, the duty light, the income 
 good, (400 per annum;) and it is situated in a fine, 
 healthy, sporting country.' He thanked Mr. Hill most 
 cordially for his kindness, but added, ' Alas ! sir, Dunham 
 will not suit me ; there is too much money, and too little 
 labour.' 'Few clergymen make such objections,' said Mr. 
 Hill ; it is a pity to decline such a living, as I do not know 
 that I can find you another. What shall we do ? Would 
 you like Madeley ?' ' That, sir,' said Mr. Fletcher, would 
 
 Life and Times of Selina, Countess of Huntingdon.
 
 JOHN FLETCHER. 199 
 
 be the very place for me.' ' My object, Mr. Fletcher, is to 
 make you comfortable in your own way. If you prefer 
 Madeley, I shall find no difficulty in persuading Chambers, 
 the present vicar, to exchange it for Dunham, which is 
 worth more than twice as much.' In this way he became 
 Vicar of Madeley." 
 
 Mr. "Wesley never approved of the position that Fletcher 
 chose for himself. He regarded it as the great mistake of 
 his life as nothing less than lighting a candle and putting 
 it under a bushel. When, on the day of his ordination, he 
 came to Mr. "Wesley's assistance, the latter wrote in his 
 journal: "How wonderful are the ways of God! "When 
 my bodily strength failed, and none in England were able 
 or willing to assist me, He sent me help from the mountains 
 of Switzerland, and a help-mate for me in every respect. 
 Where could I have found such another?" Mr. Wesley, 
 therefore, felt deeply disappointed when Fletcher buried 
 himself in an obscure town on the borders of Wales. 
 
 Madeley, in the County of Salop, and the surrounding 
 places, were inhabited by a population of miners and 
 manufacturers, the great majority of whom were almost as 
 ignorant as savages, and nearly as vicious in manners and 
 morals. It was here that Fletcher, with but short intervals, 
 spent the remaining twenty-five years of his life. At first 
 his congregation was small, and at times he almost de- 
 spaired of success. In a letter to Charles Wesley, dated 
 March 10, 1761, he says : 
 
 " A few days ago I was violently tempted to quit Madeley. 
 The spirit of Jonah had so seized upon my heart, that I had 
 the insolence to murmur against the Lord; but the storm 
 is now happily calmed, at least, for a season. Alas, what 
 stubbornness there is in the will of man ; and with what
 
 200 JOHN FLETCHER. 
 
 strength does it combat the will of God under the mask of 
 piety, when it can no longer do so with the uncovered 
 shameless face of vice ! . . . The Lord, however, does 
 not leave me altogether, and I have often a secret hope 
 that he will one day touch my heart and lips with a live 
 coal from his altar, and that then his word shall consume 
 the stubble and break to pieces the stone." 
 
 His zeal rose with the necessities of the evil day. He 
 was instant in season and out of season. Day and night, 
 and every day and night, he was engaged in labours more 
 abundant. When the heavy duties of the Sabbath were 
 done, the no less severe duties of the week began. Besides 
 preaching in different places in the neighbourhood of his 
 parish, and returning frequently at two in the morning 
 over miry roads, he regularly went from house to house, 
 reproving, rebuking, instructing, and comforting, with 
 apostolic authority, and equal apostolic meekness. The 
 wants of the sick and the penitent he never neglected for 
 a moment. At any hour of the most inclement night, 
 when he heard the sound of the knocker on his door, he 
 would instantly rise, and go forth to minister at the couch 
 of pain, or follow to the gates of death, with his most fer- 
 vent prayers, the souls of his dying parishioners. What- 
 ever wrongs or wicked behaviour he saw among his people, 
 he was sure to visit with becoming severity. While he 
 pitied the weakness of human nature, he would not tolerate 
 its licentiousness. He would sometimes break in upon a 
 dancing party at midnight, and scatter them as no consta- 
 ble in the parish could do. He justly regarded this pas- 
 time, with its usual associations, as a disgrace to the Chris- 
 tian name ; and in this opinion he is supported by the unani- 
 mous sentiment of all, in every age or country, who have
 
 JOHN FLETCHEE. 201 
 
 feared or loved God. To secure a better attendance at 
 church, he waited on those who neglected it, and earnestly 
 entreated them to come. Some of these excused them- 
 selves by saying they could not awake in time to get ready. 
 Fletcher's zeal was not to be defeated by such an idle plea. 
 He procured a hand-bell, and, starting at five o'clock in 
 the morning, rang it through the town and awoke the 
 whole parish. Such efforts could not entirely fail. Within 
 a year he wrote again to Charles Wesley : 
 
 " When I first came to Madeley, I was greatly mortified 
 and discouraged by the smallness of my congregations ; 
 and I thought that if some of our friends at London had 
 seen my little company, they would have triumphed in 
 their own wisdom ; but now, thank God, things are altered 
 in that respect, and last Sunday I had the pleasure of see- 
 ing some in the churchyard who could not get into the 
 church." 
 
 By the following October, however, these blossoms and 
 buds of promise were scattered, leaving but little fruit to 
 compensate the toil of the labourer. On the 12th of that 
 month he wrote again to Charles Wesley : 
 
 " My church begins not to be so well filled as it has 
 been, and I account for it by the following reasons : the 
 curiosity of some of my hearers is satisfied, and others are 
 offended by the word ; the roads are worse, and if it should 
 ever please the Lord to pour his Spirit upon us, the time is 
 not yet come ; for instead of saying, Let us go up to the 
 house of the Lord, they exclaim, Why should we go and 
 Jtewr a Methodist? I should lose all patience with my 
 flock if I had not more reason to be satisfied with them 
 than with myself. My own barrenness furnishes me with 
 excuses for theirs, and I wait the time when God shall give
 
 202 JOHN FLETCHER. 
 
 seed to the sower, and increase to the seed sown. In wait- 
 ing that time I learn the meaning of this prayer, < Thy will 
 
 be done.' " 
 
 The results of his unwearied labours among his people 
 were various. A faithful minister never leaves his congre- 
 gation as he finds them. Under his ministry they grow 
 either better or worse ; or, in apostolic language, he is to 
 his people " a savour of life unto life, or of death unto death." 
 It does not appear that the success of Mr. Fletcher's minis- 
 try was in any fair proportion to the extent of his labour or 
 the intensity of his zeal. We speak of the number of actual 
 conversions. In this respect Berridge, of Everton, whom 
 Southey sarcastically calls " both a fanatic and buffoon," 
 was more successful. But if Fletcher's ministry was not 
 followed by a series of great revivals, its effect was visible 
 in the general and permanent impression it made on the 
 morals of his parish. Some, indeed, waxed worse and 
 worse ; but many, in the words of his epitaph, became his 
 j oy and crown of rej oicing. If Madeley was not converted, 
 it was much reformed under the influence of his pure ex- 
 ample and ministerial labour. It must not, however, be 
 thought that Satan quietly yielded. Great and good as 
 Fletcher was, the spirit of opposition rose against him, and, 
 like Apollyon in the allegory, fiercely bestrode the way. 
 
 The contest between religion and sin is as real as the 
 shock of contending armies. The war-figure of the Scrip- 
 tures stands on a basis of fact. The world hates righteous- 
 ness, and when its cherished evils are seriously assailed, 
 like the apparently harmless toad touched by the angel's 
 spear, it reveals at once the demon in his full proportions. 
 Does any minister doubt this ? Let him make the experi- 
 ment on the next respectable robber that he meets. Let
 
 JOHN FLETCHER. 203 
 
 him, like the Baptist, reprove, with becotfiing earnestness, 
 the next Herod or Herodias that " hears gladly " the less 
 pointed and personal words of his ministry. Let him place 
 himself in bold opposition to the money-making vices of 
 trade, and especially that "dreadful trade" which sends 
 men reeling to the bar of God, and he will soon have the 
 proof in no ambiguous terms. 
 
 But few men have had fuller experience of this truth 
 than the excellent Yicar of dissolute Madeley. At one time 
 his life was endangered by a mob of drunken colliers, who 
 had assembled for a bull-bait near the Rock Church, in 
 Madeley-Wood. They agreed among themselves to " bait 
 the parson." Some of them were appointed to pull him 
 from his horse, and others to set the dogs on him. As he 
 was about to start for the place, he was unexpectedly called 
 to the funeral of a child, which delayed his coming beyond 
 the usual time. In the meanwhile the bull broke loose and 
 threw down the booth where they were assembled, and put 
 an end to the meeting and sport of the day. Mr. Fletcher 
 went to the appointment, and knew nothing of the treat- 
 ment intended for him until afterward told of it by his 
 friends. Thus, by a special providence, this servant of 
 God was saved from the fury of men and beasts. 
 
 But this was not the only class of men who set them- 
 selves in opposition to his ministry. When his church be- 
 came crowded, some of the church-wardens undertook to 
 hinder strangers of other parishes from coming to the 
 sacrament, or even entering the church. The gentlemen 
 of the town, and magistrates, whose revenues were derived 
 in part from the public licentiousness, were as heartily in- 
 censed by his zeal as the vulgar herd. One magistrate 
 threatened him with imprisonment, brandished his cane
 
 204 JOHN FLETCHEE. 
 
 over him, and called him a Jesuit. The following extract 
 of a letter to Charles Wesley will explain their rage : 
 
 "You have always the goodness to encourage me, and 
 your encouragements are not unseasonable ; for discourage- 
 ments follow one after another with very little intermission. 
 Those of an inward nature are sufficiently known to you ; 
 but some others are peculiar to myself, especially those I 
 have had for eight days past during Madeley-wake. See- 
 ing that I could not suppress these bacchanals, I did all in 
 my power to moderate their madness ; but my endeavours 
 have had little or no effect ; the impotent dyke I opposed 
 only made the torrent foam and swell without stopping its 
 course. You cannot well imagine how much the animosity 
 of my parishioners is heightened, and with what boldness 
 it discovers itself against me, because I preach against 
 drunkenness, shows, and bull-baiting. The publicans and 
 malt/men will not forgwe me. They think that to preach 
 against drunkenness and to cut their purse is the same 
 thing." 
 
 Some of the neighbouring clergy, to whom Fletcher's 
 purity and zeal were a constant reproof, gave countenance 
 to the mob by persecuting in another way. In August, 
 1762, he wrote to Charles Wesley : 
 
 "The opposition to my ministry increases. A young 
 clergyman, who lives in Madeley-Wood, where he has 
 great influence, has openly declared war against me by 
 pasting on the church-door a paper, in which he charges 
 me with rebellion, schism, and disturbing the public peace. 
 He puts himself at the head of the gentlemen of the parish, 
 (as they term themselves,) and, supported by the Kecorder 
 of Wenlock, he is determined to put in force the Conventi- 
 cle Act against me. A few weeks ago the widow, who
 
 JOHN FLETCHER. 
 
 lives in the Rock Church, and a young man who read and 
 prayed in my absence, were taken up. I attended them 
 before the justice, and the young clergyman with his troop 
 were present. They called me Jesuit, &c., and the justice 
 tried to frighten me by saying * that he would put the act 
 in force though we should assemble only in my own house.' 
 I pleaded my cause as well as I could ; but, seeing he was 
 determined to hear no reason, I told him he must do as he 
 pleased, and that if the act concerned us we were ready to 
 suffer its rigours. In his rage he went the next day to 
 Wenlock, and proposed to grant a warrant to have me ap- 
 prehended ; but, as the other justices were of opinion that 
 the business did not come under their cognizance, but be- 
 longed to the Spiritual Court, he was obliged to swallow 
 his spittle alone. The church-wardens talk of putting me 
 in the Spiritual Court for meeting in houses, &c. But what 
 is worst of all, three false-witnesses offer to prove upon 
 oath that I am a liar ; and some of my followers (as they 
 are called) have dishonoured their profession, to the great 
 joy of our adversaries." 
 
 This was a part, but a very small part, of the persecution 
 that tried this faithful minister through a series of years. 
 But he never for a moment gave place to the spirit that, 
 even among the twelve, would have called fire from heaven 
 on the Samaritan village. Sometimes, indeed, his reproofs 
 rose to the terror of prophetic warnings, and in more than 
 one instance they were remarkably fulfilled. An example 
 of this is recorded in a letter to a friend : 
 
 " This evening I have buried one of the warmest opposers 
 of my ministry, a stout, strong young man, aged twenty- 
 four years. About three months ago he came to the 
 church-yard with a corpse, but refused to come into the
 
 206 JOHN FLETCHEK. 
 
 church. When the burial was over I went to Jbim, and 
 mildly expostulated with him. His constant answer was, 
 ' that he had bound himself never to come to church while 
 I was there, adding that he would take the consequences.' 
 Seeing I got nothing I left him, saying, with uncommon 
 warmth, though, as far as I can remember, without the 
 least touch of resentment, 'I am clear of your blood; 
 henceforth it is upon your own head ; you will not come 
 to church upon your legs, prepare to come upon your 
 neighbours' shoulders.' He wasted from that time, and, to 
 my great surprise, has been buried on the spot where we 
 were when the conversation passed between us. When I 
 visited him in his sickness, he seemed tame as a wolf in a 
 trap. O, may God have turned him into a sheep in his 
 last hours !" 
 
 Although Mr. Fletcher's labours were generally limited 
 to Madeley and the surrounding neighbourhood, yet he 
 occasionally visited other counties, and gave the benefit of 
 his refreshing ministry to other congregations. Such was 
 his unaffected humility that he would gladly exchange 
 pulpits with men every way his inferiors in talents, learn- 
 ing, and piety, always sure that his own flock were gainers 
 by the exchange. Wherever he went he was followed by 
 the eager crowd, sometimes to the chagrin of the parish 
 clerk. On one occasion, at Breedon, in Leicestershire, that 
 worthy functionary was so annoyed by the increase of the 
 congregation, that he determined to compensate himself 
 for his extra labour by demanding a penny from every 
 stranger who came to the church from a distant parish. 
 He placed himself at the door and began to collect the 
 money. Mr. Fletcher heard of what was going on and 
 hastened to church. When the clerk saw him approach-
 
 JOHN FLETCHER. 207 
 
 ing, he left the door and took to the desk. At the close of 
 the service, Mr. Fletcher said, "I have not felt my spirit so 
 moved these sixteen years past as I have to-day. I have 
 heard that the clerk of this parish has demanded, and 
 actually received money from divers strangers before he 
 would suffer them to enter the church. I desire that all 
 who have paid money this way for hearing the gospel 
 will come to me, and I will return what they have paid. 
 And as to this iniquitous clerk, his money perish with 
 him." 
 
 At home Mr. Fletcher, with a truly catholic spirit, re- 
 joiced to welcome the labours of good men, whether they 
 were of the Calvinistic or Arminian creed, and whether 
 episcopally ordained or not. " The coming of Mr. Wesley's 
 preachers," said he, "gives me no uneasiness. As I am 
 sensible that everybody does better and, of course, is more 
 acceptable than myself, I should be sorry to deprive any 
 one of a blessing, and I rejoice that the work of God goes 
 on by any instrument or in any place." In a letter to White- 
 field, he said : "Last Sunday Captain Scott* preached to 
 my congregation a sermon which was more blessed, though 
 preached only on my horse-block, than a hundred of those 
 I preach in the pulpit. I invited him to come and treat 
 her ladyship next Sunday with another, now the place is 
 consecrated. If you should ever favour Shropshire with 
 
 Son of Richard Scott, Esq., in the County of Salop. He was converted 
 to God under the ministry of the excellent Romaine, one of Lady Hunting- 
 don's chaplains, and became a very popular and successful preacher. He 
 bore about the same relation to the Calvinistic Methodists that Captain 
 Webb did to Mr. Wesley's societies, and drew special attention by the 
 novelty of preaching in his regimentals. In a letter to the countess, Mr. 
 Fletcher says : " I believe this red coat will shame many a black one. I am 
 sure he shames me." Life and Times of Lady Huntingdon.
 
 208 JOHN FLETCHER. 
 
 your presence, you shall have the captain's or the parson's 
 pulpit, at your option." 
 
 In the year 1YTO, in company with his special friend, Mr. 
 Ireland, he visited France, Italy, and Switzerland. Some 
 of the incidents of this journey are peculiarly interesting, 
 as illustrations of Mr. Fletcher's character. When he 
 approached the Appian Way, the ancient road over which 
 St. Paul was conducted to Rome under the charge of a 
 centurion, he ordered the driver to stop, saying to Mr. Ire- 
 land, "that his heart would not suffer him to ride over 
 that ground upon which the apostle had formerly walked, 
 chained to a soldier, on account of preaching the gospel." 
 As soon as he set his foot on the old Roman road, he took 
 off his hat and walked on for some time, with his eyes lifted 
 up to heaven in adoring gratitude for those truths for which 
 Paul suffered and died. He then entertained his fellow- 
 traveller with an animated discourse on a subject which no 
 man has treated more ably the character, experience, and 
 labours of St. Paul. At Rome he several times put his 
 life in jeopardy by the freeness with which he conversed 
 with every class of men, and especially the priests, on the 
 corruptions of the Church, both in doctrine and practice. 
 He wished Mr. Ireland to accompany him to the Pope's 
 Chapel, which the latter would not consent to do until he 
 promised him that he would not open his lips to reprove 
 the anti-Christian service. Returning through France to 
 Switzerland, Mr. Fletcher visited the Protestants in the 
 Sevennes Mountains. Though the journey was long and 
 difficult, yet he attempted it on foot. " Shall I," said he, 
 in opposition to the remonstrance of his friend, " make a 
 visit on horseback, and at ease, to those poor cottagers, 
 whose fathers were hunted along yonder rocks like par-
 
 JOHN FLETCHEE. 209 
 
 tridges on the mountains? No ; in order to secure a more 
 friendly reception among them, I will visit them under the 
 plainest appearance, with my staff in my hand." He went 
 as an apostle through their churches, and conversed with 
 their elders, instructed their youth, visited their sick, and 
 exhorted from house to house in such a manner as strength- 
 ened the faith and comforted the hearts of the simple peo- 
 ple. At Nyon, in Switzerland, the place of his birth, he 
 preached with such effect as the people had never witnessed 
 before. They would gladly have detained him. An aged 
 clergyman, after trying to persuade him to remain among 
 them, said to Mr. Ireland : " O, sir, how unfortunate for 
 this country ; during my day it has produced but one angel 
 of a man, and it is our lot to be deprived of him." "When 
 Mr. Fletcher left the town, a large concourse of weeping 
 people crowded around his carriage and followed him two 
 miles on his journey. He returned to Madeley after an 
 absence of about three months. 
 
 In 1768 the Countess of Huntingdon founded a theologi- 
 cal institution at Trevecca, in the County of Brecknock, in 
 Wales. Her design was to give to pious young men an 
 education for the ministry, under the care of tutors eminent 
 both for learning and holiness. The students were admitted 
 for three years without charge either for board, tuition, or 
 clothing. She applied to Mr. Fletcher to take the presi- 
 dency of the college. He accepted it as a call of Provi- 
 dence, but would neither resign his charge at Madeley nor 
 reside at Trevecca ; and for his services he would accept 
 no compensation whatever. As the superintendent of this 
 school of the prophets, the burden of his labour was to pro- 
 mote the spirit of piety among the students, deeming it far 
 the most important qualification of a messenger of Christ. 
 
 14
 
 210 JOHN FLETCHER. 
 
 Accordingly, the time he spent among them was devoted 
 mainly to preaching, religious conversation, and prayer. 
 These ministrations were seldom without visible effect. 
 At the close of a sermon or free conversation on experi- 
 mental religion, he would say, " As many of you as are 
 athirst for the fulness of the Spirit follow me to my room." 
 Many would gladly follow him, and remain for hours in 
 earnest prayer before God. It was on one of these occa- 
 sions that, overwhelmed by the divine blessing, he thought 
 he should die, and, in the intense rapture of the moment, 
 he cried out, " 0, my God, withhold thy hand or the vessel 
 will "break /" 
 
 Mr. Fletcher's connexion with the college was broken off 
 in the following manner : The minutes of the Wesleyan 
 Conference for 1771 contained some propositions which 
 startled the Calvinistic clergy in connexion with Lady 
 Huntingdon. Her brother, the Rev. Walter Shirley, a 
 weak man, wrote a circular letter to men of his own views, 
 requesting them to go in a body to the next meeting of the 
 Conference, and insist on a formal recantation of the ob- 
 noxious doctrines. In the meantime the countess caused a 
 strict inquiry to be made concerning the opinions of both 
 the masters and students, declaring that whoever did not 
 disavow the heretical propositions of the minutes should 
 quit the college. " I burn against them," said she. Mr. 
 Joseph Benson was discharged, and Mr. Fletcher soon after 
 resigned. But the matter did not end here. Mr. Fletcher 
 took up his pen in defence of the assailed minutes, and a 
 controversy ensued which has become as famous in the 
 history of Calvinism in England, as the Synod of Dort was 
 in Germany. Of his opponents we shall say nothing more 
 than repeat the language of Eobert Hall, (himself a Cal-
 
 JOHN FLETCHER. 211 
 
 vinist,) that " lie would not incur the guilt of defaming tlie 
 character of Mr. Wesley as they did for whole worlds." 
 Mr. Fletcher's spirit in the controversy was as gentle as 
 ever. Not a solitary word can be found in all he wrote be- 
 traying the least tang of bitterness, while the spirit of piety 
 thoroughly penetrated every page of the immortal " Checks." 
 Ironical he was, to a degree that might sometimes disturb 
 the leaden countenance of gravity itself. His reasoning 
 was both profound and acute. He touched the flaw of a 
 sophism, and it instantly fell to pieces. He would logic- 
 ally point out the inconclusiveness of an argument, and 
 leave it ridiculously exposed in the clear light of an apt 
 illustration. The great saving doctrines of Christianity are 
 nowhere better explained, guarded, and defended. Some- 
 times his ardent soul would rise above the dry work of de- 
 bate, and break forth in a song of rejoicing. When one of 
 his opponents charged him with undervaluing the grace 
 and merits of Christ, he first refuted the accusation by 
 showing the consistency of " working for life" with the 
 doctrine of salvation by grace alone, and then exclaimed, 
 "O, ye precious merits of my Saviour, and thou free 
 grace of my God, I, for one, shall want you as long as the 
 sun or moon endureth ! Tea, when those luminaries shall 
 cease to shine I shall wrap myself within you ! My trans- 
 ported soul shall grasp you! My insatiate spirit shall 
 plunge into your unfathomable depths ! And while I run 
 the never-ending circle of my blessed existence, my over- 
 flowing bliss shall spring from you, and I shall strike my 
 golden harp to your eternal honour !" Fletcher's " Checks" 
 may be read either as a clear and comprehensive defence 
 of Christian doctrine, or as a book of devotion. The history 
 of controversy has nothing like them.
 
 21:2 JOHN FLETCHER. 
 
 During the period of this dispute, and for some time be- 
 fore it began, Mr. Fletcher's health was seriously impaired. 
 His frequent journeys, in all seasons, from Madeley to the 
 college, injured his constitution. But, though his vigour 
 was diminished, he still went on with his work. He would 
 study and write fifteen hours a day, living meanwhile on 
 the scantiest fare. The consequences were manifest symp- 
 toms of consumption, attended with spitting of blood. At 
 Mr. "Wesley's instance, and in his company, Mr. Fletcher 
 travelled through various parts of England, a distance in 
 all of nearly twelve hundred miles. For a while his health 
 seemed to improve ; but after reaching London the symp- 
 toms grew worse, and his physicians pronounced him far 
 gone in a pulmonary consumption. He retired from Lon- 
 don to Stoke-Newington, where he was kindly nursed by 
 his friends, Charles and Mary Greenwood. Among others 
 who visited him during his stay in this family, were several 
 of his opponents in the late controversy. The meeting was 
 honourable to both parties. Rudely as they had treated 
 him, he now received them in a most respectful and affec- 
 tionate manner. " God only knows," said he, in one of his 
 controversial pieces, " how much I love my dear honoured 
 opponents." He now gave them the evidence that contro- 
 versy, even theological controversy, could not sour his 
 amiable spirit. Mr. Fletcher remained at Newington for 
 nearly four months. The kindness he received affected 
 his heart with such gratitude as indited the following pas- 
 sage of a most touching letter : 
 
 " You have received a poor Lazarus, though his sores 
 were not visible. You have had compassion like the good 
 Samaritan. You have admitted me to the enjoyment of 
 your best things ; and he that did not deserve to have the
 
 JOHN FLETCHEK. 213 
 
 dogs to lick his sores, has always found the members of 
 Jesus ready to prevent, to remove, or to bear his burdens. 
 And now what shall I say ? What but, Thanks be to God 
 for the wispecikaJble gift ! And thanks to my dear friends 
 for .all their favours ! They will, I trust, be found faith- 
 fully recorded in my breast, when the great Rewarder shall 
 render to every man according to his works. Then shall a 
 raised Lazarus appear in the gate, to testify of the love of 
 Charles and Mary Greenwood, and of their godly sister." 
 
 After he left this hospitable family, he visited various 
 places, and tried various remedies, with but small beneficial 
 effect. At length, as a last resort, he went to the continent, 
 and in company with his fast friend, Mr. Ireland, travelled 
 through France, Italy, and into Switzerland, where he re- 
 mained over three years among the scenes of his youth. 
 As he was about leaving Dover for France, he wrote again 
 to his two friends at Newington. Nothing can exceed the 
 affectionate and grateful tone of this letter : 
 
 " Ten thousand blessings light upon the heads and hearts 
 of my dear benefactors, Charles and Mary Greenwood ! May 
 their quiet retreat at Newington become a Bethel to them ! 
 May their offspring be born again there ! Their poor pen- 
 sioner travels on, though slowly, toward the grave. His 
 journey to the sea seems to have hastened rather than re- 
 tarded his progress to his old mother earth. May every 
 providential blast blow him nearer to the haven of his 
 Saviour's breast, where he hopes one day to meet all his 
 benefactors, and among them those whom he now addresses ! 
 O my dear friends, what shall I render? What to Jesus? 
 What to you ? May he who invites the heavy-laden, take 
 upon him all the burdens of kindness you have heaped
 
 214: JOHN FLETCHER. 
 
 on your Lazarus ! And may angels, when you die, find me 
 in Abraham's bosom, and bring you into mine, that by all 
 the kindness which may be shown in heaven, I may try to 
 requite that you have shown to your obliged brother, 
 
 " J. F." 
 
 In this second journey to Italy he again visited the city 
 of Rome, and, like Paul at Athens, his spirit was stirred 
 by the gross idolatry and wickedness abounding on every 
 side. One day, as he and Mr. Ireland rode in a coach, the 
 driver informed them the pope was approaching, and that 
 they would be required to come forth and kneel as he 
 passed. They let the coachman know that, though they 
 were in Rome, they would not do as Rome does. The 
 poor fellow was alarmed at their boldness, and quick as 
 possible turned aside into another street, and got out of the 
 way. Mr. Fletcher was anxious to reprove the degrading 
 man-worship of the occasion, and would have done it if he 
 could have spoken Italian. He was near attempting it in 
 Latin, and was prevented only by the consideration that 
 none but the priests, and probably few of them, would un- 
 derstand him. "If you had done it," said a friend of his 
 afterward, " the multitude would have torn you in pieces." 
 " I believe," answered Mr. Fletcher, " that the pope him- 
 self would have prevented it ; for he was a man of sense 
 and humanity." But Mr. Fletcher was a man of most 
 charitable judgment ! 
 
 From Italy he went to Nyon, the place of his birth, 
 where his health rapidly improved, so that in a short time 
 he was able to resume his beloved work. But since his 
 last appearance among them, a change had come over the 
 spirit of the people. His ministry now was at once popu-
 
 JOHN FLETCHER. 215 
 
 lar and despised. The multitude still flocked to hear him ; 
 but his word was too quick and powerful for a gay and 
 trifling crowd, accustomed to live after the flesh, without 
 reproof or warning from the pulpit. On one occasion, his 
 sermon was directed against Sabbath-breaking and the 
 theatre. The chief magistrate of the town sent for him, 
 and sharply reproved him for what he took as a personal 
 reflection, saying that he had just before engaged a com- 
 pany of French comedians. He ordered Mr. Fletcher to 
 cease from preaching as long as he remained at Nyon. 
 The order was obeyed so far that he preached no longer in 
 the churches, yet he still exhorted in private houses, and 
 instructed as many children as he could collect under the 
 trees and elsewhere. 
 
 During his stay at Nyon, he started one day to see a 
 minister of pious renown in the country. After walking 
 several miles, he saw a great crowd gathered around a 
 door. He went in and found a mother and her babe at 
 the point of death, the child at the moment being in vio- 
 lent convulsions. The room was filled with people. 
 "Come," said Mr. Fletcher, "let us ask the Lord to save 
 them." He kneeled, and prayed with great fervour. The 
 child's convulsions instantly ceased, and in a few moments 
 the mother was "easy, lively, and strong." The people 
 stood amazed at what they saw. Mr. Fletcher quietly 
 retired. The question immediately went round, "Who 
 can he be ?" And some said, " Surely it was an angel !" 
 We know the risk of relating this fact. "The age of mir- 
 acles is past !" will be the cry. But stop. What is every 
 answer to prayer but a species of miracle ? Would it have 
 been less miraculous if, in answer to Fletcher's prayer, the 
 woman and her babe had recovered in a month ? Do you
 
 216 JOHN FLETCHER. 
 
 believe it right to pray for the recovery of the sick ? If so, 
 do you believe that the prayer of faith will save the sick ? 
 The only difference between this case and thousands of 
 others is, that John Fletcher prayed, and the answer came 
 sooner than usual. 
 
 Mr. Fletcher returned from Switzerland to Madeley in 
 1781. His health was so fully recovered that he resumed 
 the duties of his parish with a zeal that had grown warmer 
 on the borders of the grave. He was now fifty-two years 
 of age. This year he married Mary Bosanquet, of York- 
 shire a lady of some fortune, sound understanding, and 
 ardent piety. She was exactly ten years younger than he. 
 Imbued with his own spirit, she proved an invaluable assist- 
 ant to his ministry, and in every respect a helpmate worthy 
 of so great and good a man. But the time of their union 
 was short but three years and nine months. The severe 
 labour he imposed upon himself exhausted the strength of 
 his renewed constitution, and brought him to the gate of 
 death. In the last year of his life he wrote to Mr. Ireland 
 the following letter, which Southey praised for its beauty, 
 and which every Christian reader will feel to be more than 
 beautiful : 
 
 " Surely the Lord keeps us both* in slippery places, that 
 we may still sit loose to all below. Let us do so more and 
 more, and make the best of those days which the Lord 
 grants us to finish the work he has given us to do. O let 
 us fall in with the gracious designs of his providence, trim 
 our lamps, gird our loins, and prepare to escape to the 
 heavenly shore, as Paul did when he saw the leaky ship 
 ready to go to the bottom, and made himself ready to swim 
 to the land. 
 
 Mrs. Fletcher's health was then declining.
 
 JOHN FLETCHEB. 217 
 
 " I keep in my sentry-box till Providence remove me ; 
 my situation is quite suited to my little strength ; I may 
 do as much, or as little as I please, according to my 
 weakness, and I have an advantage which I can have 
 nowhere else in such a degree. My little field of action 
 is just at my door, so that if I happen to overdo myself, 
 I have but a step from my pulpit to my bed, and from 
 my bed to my grave. If I had a body full of vigour, and 
 a purse full of money, I should like well enough to 
 travel about as Mr. "Wesley does ; but as Providence does 
 not call me to it, I readily submit. The snail does best 
 in its shell. "Were it to aim at galloping like the race- 
 horse, it would be ridiculous indeed. I thank God my 
 wife is quite of my mind with respect to the call we have 
 to a sedentary life. We are two poor invalids, who, be- 
 tween us, make half a labourer. She sweetly helps me to 
 drink the dregs of life, and to carry with ease the daily 
 cross. Neither of us is long for this world ; we see it, we 
 feel it, and by looking at death and his Conqueror, we fight 
 beforehand our last battle, with that last enemy whom our 
 dear Lord has overcome for us." 
 
 He laboured and lingered on until August 14, 1785, when 
 he died. But what a death ! and how fitting a close of 
 such a life ! The glorious scene was preceded by those pecu- 
 liar manifestations that often tell good men that the hour 
 of their last triumph is nigh. The approach to the ocean 
 is as distinctly intimated by the refreshing sea-winds, as by 
 the roar of the surf, or the sight of its crested waves. Some 
 weeks before his last sickness, he heard the voice of the 
 " faithful and true Witness " in a manner to which he him- 
 self had not been accustomed, saying, Thou shdlt walk 
 with me in white. From that time he was constantly im-
 
 JOHN FLETCHER. 
 
 pressed with the unspeakable nearness of eternity. He un- 
 dertook no j ourney without consulting the will of God. One 
 day on his knees the question was, Shall I go to London ? 
 The answer seemed to be, Not to London^ but to thy gra/oe. 
 The next Sunday, as the choir sang the anthem, "Yea, 
 though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death," 
 &c., the prophetic words sunk into his heart, accompanied 
 with an inexpressibly solemn joy. On the following 
 Thursday he took cold, which was followed by fever. On 
 the following Sunday morning, a clergyman offered to 
 relieve him from the duties of the day. He mildly de- 
 clined the offer, but went himself for the last time. The 
 scene at church is given in the admirable words of the 
 Rev. Mr. Gilpin : 
 
 " He opened the reading service with apparent strength ; 
 but before he had proceeded far in it, his countenance 
 changed, his speech began to falter, and it was with the 
 utmost difficulty that he could keep himself from fainting. 
 Every eye was riveted upon him, deep solicitude was 
 painted on every face, and confused murmurs of distress 
 ran through the whole congregation. In the midst of this 
 affecting scene, Mrs. Fletcher was seen pressing through 
 the crowd, and earnestly entreating her dying husband no 
 longer to attempt what appeared utterly impracticable. 
 But he, as though conscious that he was engaged in his last 
 public work, mildly refused to be entreated ; and struggling 
 against an almost insupportable languor, constrained him- 
 self to continue the service. The windows being opened, 
 he appeared to be a little refreshed, and began to preach 
 with a strength and recollection that surprised all present. 
 In the course of his sermon, the idea of his weakness was 
 almost lost in the freedom and energy with which he de-
 
 JOHN FLETCHER. 210 
 
 livered himself. Mercy was the subject of his discourse; 
 and while he expatiated on this glorious attribute of the 
 Deity, its unsearchable extent, its eternal duration, and its 
 astonishing effects, he appeared to be carried above all the 
 fears and feelings of mortality. There was something in 
 his appearance and manner that gave his word an irresist- 
 ible influence upon this solemn occasion. An awful con- 
 cern was awakened through the whole assembly, and every 
 one's heart was uncommonly moved. Upon the hearts of 
 his friends in particular, a most affecting impression was 
 made at this season ; and what deepened that impression 
 was the sad presentiment which they read in each other's 
 countenance of their pastor's approaching dissolution. 
 
 " After sermon he walked up to the communion table, 
 uttering these words: 'I am going to throw myself under 
 the wings of the cherubim, before the mercy-seat.' Here the 
 same distressing scene was renewed with additional solem- 
 nity. The people were deeply affected, while they beheld 
 him offering up the last languid remains of a life that had 
 been lavishly spent in their service. Groans and tears 
 were on every side. In going through this last part of his 
 duty, he was exhausted again and again ; but his spiritual 
 vigour triumphed over his bodily weakness. After several 
 times sinking on the sacramental table, he still resumed 
 his sacred work, and cheerfully distributed with his dying 
 hand the love-memorials of his dying Lord. In the course 
 of this concluding office, which he performed by means of 
 the most astonishing exertions, he gave out several verses 
 of hymns, and delivered many affectionate exhortations to 
 his people, calling upon them at intervals to celebrate the 
 mercy of God in short songs of adoration and praise. And 
 now, having struggled through a service of near four hours'
 
 220 JOHN FLETCHER. 
 
 continuance, he was supported, with blessings in his mouth, 
 from the altar to his chamber, where he lay for some time 
 in a swoon, and from whence he never walked into the 
 world again." 
 
 "We cannot relate all the particulars of that closing scene. 
 On Wednesday he said to Mrs. Fletcher, " O Polly, my 
 dear Polly, God is love. I feel it every moment. Shout ! 
 shout aloud ! I want a gust of praise to go to the ends of 
 the earth." He agreed with her that if his speech should 
 fail, two taps of his finger should signify that God is love. 
 One of the domestics came in just at that moment. He 
 cried out, " O Sally, God is love ! Shout ! both of you. I 
 want to hear you shout his praise." His speech began to 
 fail on Thursday. His wife spoke to him of his severe suf- 
 ferings. He smiled, and gave the sign. She repeated John 
 Wesley's words : 
 
 "Jesus' blood, through earth and skies, 
 Mercy, free boundless mercy cries." 
 
 He whispered, "Boundless! boundless! boundless!" And 
 then added, from the same hymn, 
 
 "Mercy's full power I soon shall prove, 
 Loved with an everlasting love." 
 
 On Saturday some one said to him, "Do you think the 
 Lord will raise you up ?" He had just enough strength to 
 answer, " Eaise me up in the resurr " Sunday came to 
 him the beginning of an eternal Sabbath. It was known 
 through the village that he was dying. A deep gloom 
 rested on the place. Families sat in silence that day. The 
 poor from a distance, his own loved poor, wanted to see him 
 again. The room-door was thrown open. Mournfully, 
 one by one, they passed before it, and took a last lingering
 
 JOHN FLETCHER. 221 
 
 look at that venerable countenance. When his speech was 
 quite gone, Mrs. Fletcher said to him, " If the prospect of 
 glory sweetly open before thee, lift up thy right hand." 
 He raised it up three times, when it fell back and moved 
 no more. We give the rest in the words of Mr. Gilpin, 
 who was present : 
 
 " All was silence when the last angelic minister suddenly 
 arrived, and performed his important commission with so 
 much stillness and secrecy that it was impossible to deter- 
 mine the exact moment of its completion. Mrs. Fletcher 
 was kneeling by the side of her departing husband ; one 
 who had attended him with uncommon assiduity during 
 the last stages of his distemper, sat at his head ; while I 
 sorrowfully waited near his feet. Uncertain whether or 
 not he was totally separated from us, we pressed nearer, 
 and hung over his bed in the attitude of listening attention ; 
 his lips had ceased to move, and his head was gently sink- 
 ing upon his bosom we stretched out our hands, but his 
 warfare was accomplished, and the happy spirit had taken 
 its everlasting flight." 
 
 So died the Hev. John Fletcher. We shall not attempt 
 to draw his character. He did that himself when he wrote 
 the "Portrait of St. Paul." Like Eve, gazing in Eden's 
 lake, he saw his own image admired, loved, and described 
 it, but knew not that it was a picture of himself.* This 
 brief sketch, however, would be incomplete without the 
 well-chosen words of one who never flattered the living, 
 nor unduly praised the dead. At the Conference held 
 shortly after Mr. Fletcher's decease, the usual question was 
 asked, " Who have died this year?" The laconic answer 
 was given in Mr. Wesley's words : " John Fletcher, a 
 
 Paradise Lost, Book IV.
 
 JOHN FLETCHER. 
 
 mem of all holiness, scarce to be paralleled in a century" 
 After this, Mr. Wesley wrote again : " I was intimately- 
 acquainted with him for thirty years. I conversed with 
 him morning, noon, and night, without the least reserve, 
 during a journey of many hundreds of miles ; and in all 
 that time I never heard him speak an improper word, nor 
 saw him do an improper action. Within fourscore years I 
 have known many excellent men, holy in heart and life ; 
 but one equal to him I have not known one so uniformly 
 and deeply devoted to God. So unblameable a man in 
 every respect, I have not found either in Europe or Amer- 
 ica. Nor do I expect to find another such on this side 
 of eternity." 
 
 It is reported as a saying of Richard Baxter's, that his 
 hope of heaven grew brighter at the thought of dwelling 
 forever in the society of John Hampden. We have no 
 censure for the fond affection that expects the renewal of 
 special friendships among the spirits of just men made per- 
 fect ; and while it is given us to hope for a union with the 
 general assembly, we may anticipate a keener joy in seeing 
 those we most admire, whether they were known to us per- 
 sonally, or only as historic names. Substituting Fletcher 
 for Hampden, we have a thousand times sympathized in 
 the joy of Baxter's hope. For sixty- eight years Fletcher's 
 body has reposed in Madeley churchyard, awaiting the call 
 of the archangel's trumpet. It has long been a cherished 
 wish of our heart, that the day may come, when, as a pil- 
 grim from the western world, we shall see the house in 
 which he lived, the church in which he preached, and, 
 kneeling upon his grave-stone, thankfully adore the Eternal 
 Spirit, who gave such a light to the eighteenth century, and 
 such an example to the remainder of the Christian age.
 
 SOT (SARUETTSOST.
 
 ON a beautiful bold bluff, which extends into the Chesa- 
 peake Bay, still stands a venerable dwelling, whose quaint 
 little bricks exhibit not only the age in which they were 
 made, but their European origin. The dwelling was 
 erected by Garrett Garrettson, the great grandfather of 
 the REV. FREEBOKN GABBETTSON, and the first of the family 
 who emigrated to this country; and well had he chosen 
 the place of his abode. On one side, the Susquehanna 
 poured its noble waters into the broad bay, which, on the 
 other, was seen as far as the eye could reach ; while many 
 a point of land projecting into it gave grace and variety 
 to the landscape. 
 
 Rutland Garrettson, the only son of Garrett Garrettson, 
 was married to Elizabeth Freeborn, an English lady, who 
 was also an only child, and thus the name borne by so 
 many of their descendants was introduced. They had a 
 numerous family of sons and daughters, who were after- 
 ward all settled near this first home of their father. The 
 plantations of five of the brothers lay side by side in a 
 part of Harford County, still known as the Garrettson 
 Forest ; and side by side in the old Spesutia church stood 
 their antiquated pews. 
 
 John Garrettson, who was one of these brothers, married
 
 224 FEEEBORN GAKRETTSON. 
 
 Sarah Hanson; she died when the subject of this memoir 
 was quite young, leaving five sons and several daughters. 
 Though Mr. Garrettson never again married, his family 
 remained unbroken, and his children were brought up in 
 those principles of integrity and virtue by which they 
 were afterward characterized. Of the good order that 
 obtained in his father's family, the Rev. Freeborn Garrett- 
 son often spoke, remarking, among other things, that he 
 had never heard a profane word spoken in his father's 
 house, either by children or servants. 
 
 The means of education were limited in that day, yet 
 Mr. Garrettson endeavoured to supply the deficiency to his 
 children by engaging teachers who resided with him, and 
 taught his own and his brothers' children ; and thus from 
 the age of eight until seventeen, Freeborn, his third son, 
 was kept at school obtained a good English education, 
 began to study Latin and French, but preferring the 
 " exact sciences," abandoned the study of languages and 
 devoted himself more exclusively to them. " I was," says 
 he, " so drawn out in these studies, particularly astronomy, 
 that I spent hours alone, both by night and by day, until 
 my school-fellows began to laugh at me." Grave, sedate, 
 and thoughtful from his early boyhood, beloved by his 
 friends, esteemed by his teachers, with no stain on his 
 moral character, the beautiful youth stood in the opinion 
 of all as a rare example of Christian virtue; and when 
 the Spirit of God showed him his real condition, and 
 in the bitterness of his heart he sought by multiplied 
 observances to find peace and safety, it is not at all sur- 
 prising that in their darkened state they counted him 
 as mad. 
 
 The minister of " old Spesutia," in whom he had trusted,
 
 FRKEBOKN GARRETTSON. 225 
 
 could give him no direction ; lie had already gone a step 
 beyond his guide, and left him for those who, pointing to 
 the cross of Christ, could bid him cast his burden there 
 for those who could speak of the knowledge of sins for- 
 given, and urge him to walk in the light of God's coun- 
 tenance. 
 
 Though only twenty years of age, he was intrusted with 
 the management of his father's plantation, and had, also, 
 frequent land surveys to make; yet he found time to 
 attend all the means of grace in his neighbourhood, and 
 was "instant in prayer and supplication." He was often 
 "ravished by the sweet drawings of heavenly love, and 
 again he sank back into doubt and despondency. As 
 months passed, his worldly anxieties increased. His father's 
 death left him burdened with the care of a family, and 
 executor to the estate. At length, after several years of 
 almost Pharisaic strictness, which, however, could by no 
 means allay the deep thirst of his soul, he made the 
 surrender of his heart to God. He was riding home from 
 church on "Whitsunday-night" when it was made: there 
 was a fearful struggle. " I felt," says he, " Satan on my 
 left, the good Spirit on my right." The one contrasted the 
 world and its allurements, prosperity in business, a good 
 name, honest renown, with that which a proud man likes 
 least to incur obloquy, shame, distrust, the averted glance 
 of friends, the open taunt of enemies ; while the blessed 
 Spirit of grace impressed upon his heart the ponderous 
 realities of eternity, and demanded an instant decision. 
 The crisis had arrived. Dropping the bridle, he clasped 
 his hands and exclaimed, in the fulness of his heart, 
 "Lord, I will part with all, and become an humble 
 follower of thee !" 
 
 15
 
 226 FKEEBOKN GARBETTSON. 
 
 "A guilty, weak, and helpless worm, 
 
 Into thine arms I fall; 
 Be thou my strength and righteousness, 
 
 My Jesus, and my all I" 
 
 In that instant his soul was filled with joy and peace, 
 the "peace of God, which passeth understanding." Nature 
 seemed in that solemn solitary place to unite with him in 
 highest jubilee. "The stars," said he, "seemed like so 
 many seraphs going forth in their Maker's praise." As 
 he approached his home the servants, hearing the sound 
 of his rejoicing, ran out to meet him, and to ask what was 
 the matter. "I called the family together for prayer," 
 said he, " for the first time, but my prayer was turned to 
 praise." It was a few days after this, that, as he stood up 
 to give out a hymn at family worship, the moral evil of 
 slavery was impressed on his mind, and with a willing 
 heart he responded, " Lord, the oppressed shall go free ;" 
 and, turning to the astonished negroes, he proclaimed their 
 liberty, and promised a just compensation for any services 
 they might render him in future ; and " my mind was as 
 clear of them," said he, " as if I had never owned them." 
 
 And now the expansive principle of Christianity im- 
 planted in his heart impelled him to labour for the salva- 
 tion of others. From house to house, despite of trials and 
 temptations, of buffetings without and fears within, he 
 went, first to the homes of his friends, in one of which he 
 left a dear cousin "under deep awakening," in another a 
 brother "groaning for redemption in Jesus," at another 
 brother's twenty seeking their soul's salvation. He soon 
 saw all his brothers added to the Lord, Methodist preach- 
 ing established among them, and a society of thirty formed 
 and placed under the care of the circuit preacher. Of
 
 FREEBOKN G ARRETT SON. 227 
 
 these first fruits of Iris labours, two, if not more, were 
 added to the ministry his brother Richard and his cousin 
 Freeborn Garrettson. "Well was it that the Lord set the 
 broad seal of his approbation to the labours of his young 
 servant. Though strong were his temptations and heavy 
 his cross, yet on he went now to the quarter of the negro, 
 now to the domicil of the master, bearing his message of 
 love. What mattered it that his name was cast out as 
 evil that insults and sometimes blows awaited him that 
 the doors of some who had loved him best were closed 
 against him, when his Saviour so filled his soul with joy 
 that ofttimes, like St. Paul, he scarcely knew whether he 
 was " in the body" or " out of the body?" Before the parson 
 and the vestry, as before other companies of men, the 
 Lord filled his mouth with arguments, while the sweetness 
 of his spirit often turned the lion into the lamb. The 
 poor blacks! how they must have hailed the new light 
 that dawned upon them how blessed the only power that 
 could rescue them from degradation, and make them 
 kings arid priests unto God ! 
 
 It would surpass the limits of this sketch were I to 
 dilate on the severe exercises which preceded his entrance 
 into the ministry. To become a Methodist preacher in 
 that day, was to abandon all that the world holds dear 
 ease, honour, wealth, home, and the social relations which 
 'make home so sweet : and all were abandoned when, weak 
 and almost fainting under the severity of the struggle, he 
 rose from his bed, left his house, rode to Baltimore, where 
 the Conference was in session, and gave his name (which 
 he had often been solicited to do) as a member of the 
 Church and Conference. Still the cross was almost insup- 
 portable; and when he returned to his lodgings, he fainted
 
 228 FUEEBOKN GAKKETTSON. 
 
 under a deep sense of responsibility, and an humbling view 
 of his own unfitness for so great a work. On recovering 
 lie found himself surrounded by his brethren : his soul was 
 filled with a foretaste of heavenly bliss a baptism for the 
 arduous service on which he had entered. 
 
 The field of his labours for the next nine years lay in 
 Delaware, Maryland, Virginia, and North Carolina. He 
 went forth " weeping, bearing precious seed," and came 
 again "with rejoicing," having gathered many sheaves. 
 There was another warfare waging at this time which often 
 threatened interruption to his labours : he could not take 
 the oath of allegiance proffered him in Virginia, first 
 because, though from the beginning his feelings had been 
 enlisted in behalf of his country, his mind was not yet 
 clear as to the lawfulness of resistance; secondly, because 
 the oath was so worded as to bind him " to take up arms 
 whenever called upon," &c. He "felt no disposition to 
 use carnal weapons." For the arrest and imprisonment 
 with which he was menaced he was not careful, but left 
 himself and his cause in the hands of One who would make 
 all things work together for good. Under this date, Vir- 
 ginia, 177Y, he says: "The more I am despised and perse- 
 cuted the happier my soul is, the larger my congregations, 
 and the more my labours are blessed." How often during 
 these years did he realize the promise of our Lord, " Every 
 one that forsaketh houses, or brethren, or sisters, or father, 
 or mother, or children, or lands, for my name's sake, shall 
 receive a hundred-fold, and shall inherit everlasting life." 
 How many homes were open to the way-worn wanderer ! 
 How many kind friends greeted him as a son and brother ! 
 " Even treated more like a son than a stranger, more like an 
 angel than a poor clod of earth," is an entry in his diary.
 
 FBEEBORN OAKKETT8ON. 
 
 Sometimes these beloved friends would have allured 
 him from his appointed work by their kindness. " Abide 
 with us, and we will do thee good," was their language. 
 To him, however, who had laid his all on the altar, these 
 temptations only added other victories to those already 
 won. He says, under date of June, 1777: "The people 
 here wanted to ruin me with their kindness. The tempta- 
 tion was strong. Satan began to lay a hundred schemes 
 to entrap me, in order that my usefulness might be hindered. 
 The thing itself was pleasing to nature, to live at ease, with 
 an abundance of what the world calls good, and the pros- 
 pect of doing good withal! World, away with thy flat- 
 tery ! I can rejoice in my God with the testimony of a 
 conscience void of offence, knowing that the oblation is 
 made for the sake of Christ's Church, whom he purchased 
 with his own blood, being convinced that I can do more 
 good in wandering up and down the earth without any 
 encumbrance. As for the riches of the world I have 
 enough to serve my turn. It is no time to think of lands, 
 or houses, &c. I passed on, rejoicing in God my Saviour." 
 
 Preaching from one to four times daily, often beset by 
 enemies to the cross of Christ who testified their animosity 
 by deed as well as word, besought by friends not to expose 
 himself, how must the heart of the youthful disciple have 
 longed for rest! It was just after he had resisted the 
 importunity of his more prudent friends that he met one 
 of those ruffians who sometimes bear a title only to dis- 
 grace it. After several threats, finding that he could not 
 intimidate Mr. Garrettson, he commenced a furious assault, 
 in which he commanded his servants to engage, and ended 
 it only when his victim lay senseless on the ground. A 
 woman providentially passed by with a lancet, who had
 
 230 FKEEBOBN GAKRETTSON. 
 
 him removed to the nearest house and bled him. What a 
 scene that cottage presented! The young minister just 
 awaking from his trance, but not able to rise, his face 
 wounded and bleeding, but radiant with a joy that he 
 could scarcely contain, believing himself near the eternal 
 world, and ravished by the view which faith presented, yet 
 pausing to pray for his murderer and to guide him to the 
 way of safety ; the poor persecutor, frightened at the effect 
 of his passion, either pacing the room with agitated steps, 
 or sitting beside his victim and reading, by his direction, 
 passage after passage of Holy "Writ. Mr. Garrettson, in 
 after life, when speaking of this assault, said : " Brown was 
 a small man, and I was strong and agile ; in a contest I 
 could have overpowered him." But it was not by conflict 
 or by violence that Christianity won its trophies either in 
 the first or the eighteenth century. 
 
 This constant warfare with the powers of darkness gave 
 to the countenance of those dear servants of God a solem- 
 nity and elevation of character which sometimes awakened 
 the careless when no word was spoken. " My first convic- 
 tion, when a boy," said an eminent Presbyterian divine, 
 "was received from observing Mr. Garrettson as he was 
 walking by there was something so holy, so heavenly, in 
 his expression, that I was strongly impressed with the truth 
 of religion." 
 
 Such were the men that kindled a flame through the 
 length and breadth of our country. Had the world seen 
 their like since apostolic days? The Keformers, though 
 bold in the cause of truth, were full of asperity ; here 
 courage was tempered by meekness and love. 
 
 The life of the itinerant, however, was not wholly marked 
 by toil and trial. Green spots there were in the path of
 
 FKEEBORN GARRETTSON. 231 
 
 his pilgrimage "sweet resting bowers," where the weary 
 might repose beside the still waters delectable mountains 
 where sweet counsel might be taken and new strength 
 imbibed. Such a spot, among many others, was the house 
 of Henry Airey, Esq. When being conducted to the prison 
 at Cambridge, by a mob, it was this devoted friend who 
 accompanied him ; and when the mob was dispersed by a 
 remarkable flash of lightning, and the two friends were left 
 to themselves, how cheerfully the light of that home 
 gleamed in the distance ! What sweet communion did its 
 inmates enjoy when, gathered together around its ample 
 hearth, they talked of all that befell them by the way ! The 
 next day was to bring its trouble, but that they left to God. 
 When the morrow came, and the prison-life was a reality, 
 it was still to that dear friend he owed his earthly solace ; 
 it was to him he owed the comforts which made confine- 
 ment less irksome. " No weapon that was formed against 
 him prospered." Fire-arms pointed at him dropped harm- 
 lessly from the hands that held them. Mobs raged around 
 him, but had no power to injure. Committals were writ- 
 ten, but left unexecuted. Even in the exceptions to these 
 escapes God brought abundant good out of the unjust 
 infliction, and many heard the gospel from his prison win- 
 dows who might not have heard it otherwise. 
 
 Just as Mr. Garrettson was preparing to go to Charles- 
 ton, S. C., Dr. Coke arrived, with full power to organize a 
 Church. Mr. Wesley had "been for many years con- 
 vinced that bishops and presbyters are the same order, 
 and consequently have the same right to ordain," but had 
 hitherto refused to exercise it " for peace' sake ;" now, how- 
 ever, that America had achieved her independence, and 
 was untrammelled either by Church or State, he deemed it
 
 232 FREEBORN GARRETTSON. 
 
 a duty to assume the right, and accordingly, in conjunc- 
 tion with several other ministers of the English Church, 
 ordained the Rev. Messrs. Whatcoat and Vasey elders, and 
 set apart Dr. Coke, already a presbyter, to the office of 
 superintendent of the American work. 
 
 "Like an arrow" from the bow, Mr. Garrettson went 
 from North to South to summon the preachers to attend the 
 Christmas Conference, to be held in Baltimore, Dec., 1784. 
 He travelled twelve hundred miles in six weeks, preaching 
 often as he went. At that Conference he was ordained, and 
 from thence he went as a volunteer to ISTova Scotia. 
 
 For two years this indefatigable minister of the Lord 
 Jesus ceased not to preach the word in that cold inhospita- 
 ble region; traversing its mountains and valleys, often on 
 foot, with his knapsack on his back, he threaded Indian 
 paths in which it was not expedient to take a horse ; some- 
 times waded through morasses, his hunger satisfied by no 
 dainty morsel, his thirst slaked at some babbling brook, 
 his weary limbs rested on a couch of leaves. But God 
 blessed his labours abundantly : many, many souls were 
 added to the Lord ; chapels were built, but were too small 
 to contain the crowds who pressed to hear the word. 
 Hearts and homes were open to receive him, and though 
 sometimes " stones flew," and a heavy one was " aimed at 
 his head," they passed close by without injuring him ; and 
 he remarks, "This is but trifling, if I can win souls to 
 Jesus." 
 
 At the Conference in Baltimore, May 7th, 1787, Dr. 
 Coke, by the direction of Mr. "Wesley, proposed to appoint 
 Mr. Garrettson superintendent of the work throughout the 
 British provinces in America. The question was taken, 
 and he was unanimously elected to that office. On mak-
 
 FKEEBORN GAKBETTSON. 233 
 
 ing this election known to Mr. Garrettson, he said that he 
 would take one year to visit the field thus tendered, and, if 
 acceptable to the people, he would return to the next Con- 
 ference and be consecrated for the office. Letters of com- 
 mendation to the "West India Islands, &c., &c., were writ- 
 ten; but when his name was read off the next day, it was 
 not as missionary bishop to the British provinces, but as 
 Presiding Elder of the Peninsula, where he had formerly 
 laboured so successfully. And he never inquired into the 
 reason of the change, but went, followed by the deep 
 regrets of his Nova Scotia friends. The storm of persecu- 
 tion and war had ceased a flood-tide of prosperity and 
 popularity bore him onward. It was a rest of spirit he 
 had fairly earned a short rest, for the next Conference 
 appointed him presiding elder over a new and unsettled 
 field in New- York. Methodism, previous to this time, 
 (1788,) had travelled no higher up than New-Rochelle. 
 Mr. Garrettson's new district comprised the country lying 
 between New-Rochelle and Lake Champlain, and extended 
 from the Eastern States to "Whitestown, near Utica. Before 
 Mr. Garrettson left Conference, such light seemed to illu- 
 minate his path that he was enabled to allot to each of the 
 young men whom the Conference had placed at his disposal 
 his appropriate field of labour, and to fix the time and 
 place of their several quarterly meetings. How little did 
 he imagine, as he set out on his journey northward, the 
 important bearing that this station would have upon his 
 future happiness ! It was in 1789, while Mr. Garrettson 
 was at Poughkeepsie, that a servant-man inquired for him, 
 bearing his master's compliments, and an invitation to visit 
 Rhinebeck. The invitation was accepted, and Mr. Gar- 
 rettson went to the house of Thomas Tillotson, Esq., where
 
 23i FREEBORN GARRETT8ON. 
 
 he was received with kindness and hospitality. Mr. Til- 
 lotson was from Maryland, and had heard much of Mr. 
 Garrettson in his native state. Preaching was established 
 and a class of two formed, of which Miss Catharine Livings- 
 ton (afterward Mrs. Garrettson) was one. Miss Livingston 
 had experienced religion several years before, had been 
 much edified by Mr. Wesley's Works, and was already a 
 Methodist in doctrine and affection, when Methodist preach- 
 ing was so unexpectedly supplied. Mr. Garrettson received 
 from these friends introductory letters to other branches of 
 the family, who also received him with great kindness. 
 
 Such was his first reception into the family of which he, 
 several years afterward, became a member. He believed 
 that his union with Miss Livingston was divinely appointed ; 
 and from that event the social happiness he so nobly relin- 
 quished at the commencement of his ministry became his 
 in no common degree. 
 
 Mr. Garrettson took this district in 1788, and left it in 
 the spring of 1793. The membership during that time had 
 increased from ten to upwards of two thousand five hun- 
 dred. In 1793 he was appointed to the Philadelphia Dis- 
 trict, where he spent the first year of his wedded life. 
 The next year he was returned as Presiding Elder of the 
 Dutchess District, and settled at Rhinebeck, about four 
 miles from the Hudson. 
 
 This first dwelling of Mr. and Mrs. Garrettson was a 
 very humble one, well suited to their narrow income. 
 Salary there was none for Mr. Garrettson would never 
 lessen the stipend his brethren received by accepting his 
 own proportion. His patrimony during those years of 
 deep devotion to a better service had suffered loss, though 
 it had still been sufficient for his moderate wants. Mrs.
 
 FKEEBORN GAKRETTSON. 235 
 
 Garrettson's income was also, at that time, a very limited 
 one ; so that their experience, during the first six years of 
 married life, was more in unison with that of their brethren 
 than has been generally supposed. But their home, 
 though lowly, was a bright and cheerful one. Peace and 
 contentment, hospitality and love made it such ; and when, 
 in 1800, its inmates left it for a larger and more convenient 
 abode, on the banks of the Hudson, many tears were shed 
 as a tribute to the hours of sweet enjoyment passed beneath 
 its roof. 
 
 Mr. Asbury's impression, on first visiting the new abode 
 of his friend, is recorded in these few pithy words : " He 
 hath a beautiful land and water prospect, and a good, 
 simply elegant, useful house, for God, his people, and the 
 family." Perhaps, to make this description of the good 
 bishop more just, the word elegant should have been 
 obliterated. Certain it is that no article of the furniture or 
 dress of these dear friends, to whom he paid an annual 
 visit, wounded his almost ascetic conscience. When this 
 house was raised, God's blessing was invoked, and an 
 answer of peace given; when finished and consecrated, 
 God's power was most manifestly felt. For twenty-seven 
 years it was the resting-place of Mr. Garrettson; his 
 labours ceased only with his life. He continued, with few 
 intervals, to exercise the office of presiding elder until 
 1815 ; after this he travelled at large, visiting the Churches 
 among whom he had formerly laboured, rejoicing every- 
 where to preach Christ and him crucified. He was deeply 
 interested in the missionary and educational interests 
 of our Church. His anxiety for the establishment of 
 societies for these purposes was ever in advance of his 
 brethren; his pleasure when they were established, and
 
 236 FKEKBOKN GABRETTSON. 
 
 the zeal with which he asserted their claim to public 
 patronage, partook more of the fervour of youth than the 
 cool sobriety of age. To all charities, indeed, he con- 
 tributed to the extent of his ability his moderate income, 
 like his house, was " for God, his people, and the family." 
 His public obligations never interfered with his private 
 duties ; the same love which prompted him to seek sinners 
 in the highways and hedges, shed a hallowing influence over 
 his home. He was a devoted husband, a tender father, an 
 affectionate brother, a beneficent uncle. All claims were 
 properly adjusted. His discipline was so tempered by love 
 that the rule of the house was always felt to be both kind 
 and just. Ever more ready to commend than censure, 
 with a judgment that seldom erred, the right way was 
 made the pleasant way as well as the way to please. 
 Seldom, perhaps, has the master of a household been more 
 loved and honoured. He rarely, if ever, rebuked any one 
 of his family in public. Were there evils to be corrected, 
 a private interview was sought at some suitable time 
 which should most avoid observation; plain, affectionate 
 conversation was concluded by prayer, and the culprit 
 came from that private interview loving his reprover with 
 a more ardent affection, and manifested by his conduct, for 
 months to come, how deeply it had impressed him. The 
 ruffled brow of care was smoothed, discordant tempers 
 harmonized, and a new spirit infused. !No one knew, by 
 word or hint from the master of the household, that 
 reproof had been administered ; but a quiet smile passed 
 around as the settled demeanour and the cheerful alacrity 
 of the delinquent was noted. Such was the paternal influ- 
 ence that he exercised in that sweet, tranquil abode up to 
 the last hour of his stay in it.
 
 FREEBORN GARRETT8ON. 237" 
 
 On Friday, the 17th of August, 1827, he left home in 
 his usual health, expecting to spend the Sabbath in New- 
 York, and to return the following Monday or Tuesday. 
 On Sunday morning he preached his last sermon, in 
 Duane-street Church, and administered the sacrament ; on 
 Sunday evening he went to the same church, though he did 
 not preach. After a fatiguing day, on Monday he came 
 to the house of his friend, George Suckley, Esq. He ap- 
 peared to the family to be in unusual health and spirits, and 
 sat up beyond his usual hour, although he intended to take 
 the boat at six o'clock. That night, however, he was seized 
 with his last agonizing disorder, and, after passing several 
 days of intense pain and extreme danger, he abandoned 
 the thought of returning home, and sent for his wife and 
 daughter to come down to him. The following passages, 
 copied from letters written immediately after his death, 
 will best detail the closing scenes of his life : 
 
 " On our arrival we were told that the crisis of his dis- 
 ease had been favourably passed, and that, though linger- 
 ing, there was every prospect of his ultimate recovery. 
 But, though we suffered our judgment to be led captive by 
 our wishes even to the last, no hopes of that kind were 
 ever implanted in his mind. His sufferings were, at times, 
 unutterable ; but through them all were manifested a resig- 
 nation and fortitude no agony could destroy. ' I shall be 
 purified as by fire ;' 'I shall be made perfect through 
 suffering ;' ' It is all right, all right ; not a pain too much,' 
 he would often say. As he descended into the dark valley, 
 his views of the grandeur and efficacy of the atonement 
 became more and more enlarged. His disorder inclined 
 him latterly to slumber, and he was often delirious ; but 
 even then the same subject was the theme of his dis-
 
 238 FBEEBOBN QAKKETT8ON. 
 
 course. Toward the last, his strength was so much ex- 
 hausted that articulation became a painful effort; but 
 we would often hear him say, ' I want to go home ; I 
 want to be with Jesus, I want to be with Jesus.' To 
 a friend, who asked him how he was, he said, 'I feel 
 the perfect love of God in my soul.' A day or two 
 before his departure I heard him say, ' And I shall see Mr. 
 Wesley too.' It seemed as if he were contemplating the 
 enjoyment of that world upon the verge of which he then 
 was enjoyments which he said a Christian might well 
 understand, as they began in his heart even in this life. 
 His mind was employed with subjects for the sweetest 
 emotions of love and adoration. When asked how he did, 
 he would answer, 'I feel love and good- will to all man- 
 kind,' or, ' I see a beauty in all the works of God ;' forget- 
 ting that the infirmities of his body had been the subject 
 of inquiry. His last sentence was, ' Holy, holy, holy, Lord 
 God Almighty! Hallelujah! hallelujah!' After that, 
 though he lingered many hours, he could not speak articu- 
 lately. Once only, clasping his hands and raising his eyes 
 to heaven, he uttered, ' Glory ! glory !' 
 
 " When the hour arrived in which his spirit was to achieve 
 its last great victory, we all kneeled around the bed, and 
 Mr. Levings, in a manner and in language of which I can 
 never give you an idea, commended his spirit to its Father 
 and its God. You would have imagined that he really 
 saw the chariot and the horsemen which were sent to 
 convey the father and the patriarch to his reward ; and as 
 fervently did he implore that the mantle might fall as 
 triumphantly did he resign him. And as he prayed, my 
 dear mother, stretching forth her hands as if she felt the 
 immediate presence of God, exclaimed, ' Yes, Lord, we do
 
 FREEBOEN GAREETTSON. 239 
 
 resign him ! freely resign him ! "We give him up to thee ! - 
 He is thine; receive his spirit!' Mr. Levings ceased 
 praying: there was a pause, and in that pause the spirit 
 departed. And, as if our united prayer was answered, and 
 the mantle did descend, such a divine influence pervaded 
 the apartment that two of the preachers almost sunk to 
 the floor, under a glorious sense of His presence who 
 filleth immensity. The spirit departed, leaving the body 
 impressed with the sweetest expression of peace and tran- 
 quillity an expression which it retained until the moment 
 when it was shrouded from human observation. "We could 
 stand beside those dear remains, and imagine that their 
 appearance of renewed youth and happiness was a pledge 
 of that glorious resurrection, when ' death shall be swal- 
 lowed up in victory,' and the 'mortal put on immor- 
 tality.' 
 
 "Thus, as a ripe shock of corn, he was gathered into the 
 garner of his God, in the seventy-sixth year of his age and 
 the fifty-second of his itinerant ministry. He ended his 
 useful life at the house of his long-tried friend, George 
 Suckley, Esq., in the city of New- York, about two o'clock 
 in the morning of the 26th of September, 1827."* 
 
 His remains were conveyed to his own residence, accom- 
 panied by his family and many sympathizing friends; and 
 soon after, followed by a large concourse of people, they 
 were deposited in the rear of that church where he had so 
 often explained the word of life. 
 
 In so brief a memoir, it would have been impossible to 
 
 give more than an outline of the character and labours of 
 
 this useful and laborious servant of the Lord. In treating 
 
 of the former, I have endeavoured to place in bold relief 
 
 Dr. Bangs.
 
 240 FBEEBOKN GARRETT8ON. 
 
 those features which have hitherto escaped notice. His 
 singleness of view, his brotherly kindness, his perfect guile- 
 lessness, his activity, his zeal, and his piety, have all been 
 dwelt upon by others. I wished to dilate upon his social 
 character to show him as a husband, a father, and a pa- 
 triot ; but the limits assigned me are passed. 
 
 His labours speak for themselves. He was one of the 
 most efficient agents in building up a Church to spread 
 Scriptural holiness throughout the land. When he joined 
 it, there were but nineteen travelling ministers, and three 
 thousand one hundred and twenty -eight members ; when 
 he died, the ministry numbered one thousand five hundred 
 and seventy-six, and the membership three hundred and 
 eighty-one thousand nine hundred and ninety-seven. He 
 rests from his labours, and his works do follow him.
 
 _* * <* ' 
 
 * ' 
 
 !UT!E .PRESMENT OF TIHHS WIBK1T.1HTAW lONWEffiSlCET ES'SJ^SSXfWN CTo
 
 (join i it ur list.* 
 
 FISK was born at Brattleboro', in the State of 
 Vermont, on the thirty-first day of August, 1792. His 
 ancestors were of the old Puritan stock, and maintained 
 the virtues and piety of that peculiar people. His father, 
 Isaiah Fisk, was stripped of his patrimony by unfortunate 
 business connexions, and compelled to seek a residence in 
 the wilder and less cultivated portions of the state. He 
 accordingly removed to Lyndon, within about forty miles 
 of the Canada line, where he resided respected and 
 beloved by all who knew him. He filled important legis- 
 lative and judicial offices, and discharged the duties they 
 imposed with severe virtue and untarnished honour. The 
 region of country in which he resided after the birth of 
 his son "Willbur, is described as being peculiarly adapted 
 to excite emotions of beauty and sublimity. " The house 
 is situated on a considerable eminence, overlooking a wide 
 extent of country. Around it the tops of the hills are 
 seen peering one above another, like the caps of the ocean 
 billows in a gale ; while, at the distance of forty miles, are 
 discerned the summits of the White Mountains of New- 
 
 This memoir has been chiefly compiled from Dr. Holdich's Life of 
 Willbur Fisk, and extracts not otherwise noted are to be accredited to 
 that work. 
 
 16
 
 WILLBUR FI8K. 
 
 Hampshire, soaring majestically till their heads are lost in 
 the clouds." 
 
 Born of such ancestry, and reared amid scenes like 
 these, Willbur Fisk in early life was impressed with a 
 reverence for God, and an appreciation of the beauty and 
 sublimity of his works. " He would wander off by him- 
 self for hours, traversing the woods, climbing the hills, or 
 tracing the windings of the rivulet. There is one spot on 
 the farm which was a favourite resort. It is the summit 
 of a sloping hill, perhaps two hundred feet high, termi- 
 nating on one side precipitously, and crested with a lovely 
 grove." Here he often wandered with his book, deriving 
 instruction from its pages and inspiration from the sur- 
 rounding scene. 
 
 His mother, whose maiden name was Willbur, was dili- 
 gent in impressing the great principles of Christianity 
 upon the minds of her children. " She took them early 
 and constantly to church, made it a particular business to 
 read to them the word of God, required them to learn 
 their Catechism, and commit texts, hymns, and prayers to 
 memory. She had the happy art, too, of rendering these 
 things more a pleasure than a burden. According to 
 their capacity, she was almost constantly stimulating them 
 to thought and inquiry by her conversation with them. 
 Both parents were exemplary in the observance of the 
 Sabbath. They regarded it as a day strictly set apart for 
 religious uses, and hence the time not spent in public 
 worship was occupied in family instruction. Yet their 
 piety was so mild and cheerful, and their household 
 governed with such uniform consistency, that the Sabbath 
 was far from being a dull or gloomy day." Such training 
 necessarily produced a happy effect upon the family circle.
 
 WILLBUR FISK. 243 
 
 Young Willbur was naturally of strong temper, passionate 
 and self-willed ; but the influence of his religious training 
 was felt at a very early age. He says of himself, referring 
 to a period when he was not more than five years of age, 
 " Often I have watered my pillow with my tears for the 
 sins I had committed, and frequently have I feared to 
 sleep lest I should awake in misery." It is not remark- 
 able, therefore, that when, in his eleventh year, the family 
 was bereaved by the loss of an infant, he should be deeply 
 impressed by the solemn event. " Standing by the side of 
 the corpse, he said to his sister Mary, ' How good God is 
 to us ! He has taken our little brother away who needed 
 no conversion ; but he has given us time to repent.' " We 
 are told that his convictions of sin now became deep, his 
 faith in Christ clear, and the change in his feelings deep 
 and obvious. He was soon after admitted on probation in 
 the Methodist Church, and gave indications of future use- 
 fulness. None of those who heard his first attempts at 
 public prayer, and in the relation of his experience in 
 class-meeting and love-feast, were unprepared for his 
 future eminence and success. 
 
 His mental discipline and culture were, however, at this 
 time, in not so favourable a condition. His mind had 
 been awakened to the importance of education, and he 
 manifested great eagerness in the acquisition of knowl- 
 edge, frequently rising at three or four o'clock in the 
 morning to pursue his studies before the family were up. 
 He carried a book in his pocket to beguile the leisure 
 moments, and the selections he made would seem to 
 have been judicious; for, when it was proposed to intro- 
 duce Smellie's Philosophy of Natural History into the 
 course of studies at Middletown, he remarked, "I first
 
 ^4:4: AVILLBUK FISK. 
 
 read that book while attending a lime-kiln on my 
 father's farm." 
 
 But his advantages were limited to such books as were 
 within his reach ; for, from the time he was seven years of 
 a<re until he was sixteen, he attended school not more 
 
 O ' 
 
 than two or three years. Speaking of this, he says of 
 himself, "Thus the best part of my time for literary 
 instruction was lost ; a loss I shall always regret, as it can 
 never be made up. I always consider three years of my 
 life as little better than thrown away. It is true, during 
 these years I read a great number of authors, which 
 served to enlarge my ideas of men and things ; but as I 
 had none to direct my studies, and as, from the scarcity of 
 good books, I had but little opportunity of exercising even 
 my own j udgment in a choice, my reading was very desul- 
 tory, and, in many instances, very unprofitable." 
 
 In 1809 he went to a grammar-school at Peacham, 
 about twenty miles from Lyndon. He seems to have 
 impressed his associates and friends by the dignity of his 
 demeanour and his zeal in study. But while here he 
 relaxed the strictness of his devotional exercises, lost the 
 fervour of his religious zeal, and became, we are told, as 
 worldly and ambitious as his associates. 
 
 In 1812 he entered the Sophomore class in the Uni- 
 versity of Vermont. Soon after, the war with England 
 occasioned an interruption in the duties of the insti- 
 tution, the college buildings were occupied by troops, 
 and we find Fisk in 1814 a student of Brown University, 
 at Providence, Rhode Island. His college companions 
 soon recognised his abilities as a student. The faculty 
 which he always displayed of thinking closely and express- 
 ing himself clearly in extemporaneous debate made him a
 
 WILLBTJR FI8K. 245 
 
 popular champion among them, and led even his instruc- 
 tors to anticipate the brilliant successes he afterward 
 so triumphantly achieved. He graduated with honour 
 in 1815. 
 
 "We now approach a period in his history that is full of 
 interest. His parents had always indulged the hope that 
 he would devote himself to the work of the ministry. 
 Their deep piety and lofty views of the dignity, import- 
 ance, and usefulness of the Christian ministry, naturally 
 led them to desire that a son of theirs should fill the 
 sacred desk, while the devotion and success of their 
 Willbur in early life gave them ground to hope that 
 God would call him to the sacred work. He himself 
 had indulged similar views; but now that the time of 
 action had arrived, he found himself without the deep- 
 toned piety he felt to be requisite. His studies while 
 in college, as well as his predilection, were turned toward 
 political life, a field in which one of his associates 
 at Peacham, the Hon. Thaddeus Stevens, has since 
 gained distinction. He had, however, much disquietude 
 of mind, and the thought of decision was painful. Receiv- 
 ing a favourable offer from the Hon. Isaac Fletcher, he 
 entered his office in Lyndon, and commenced the study of 
 law. This he pursued with the indefatigable perseverance 
 which always characterized him, but he had many mis- 
 givings as to his true destiny. His father still cherished 
 the hope that his religious emotions would be kindled 
 anew, and that he "would feel that woe that St. Paul 
 speaks of if he preached not the gospel." And his mother 
 said, that " while Willbur was aiming at becoming a distin- 
 guished statesman, I was all the time praying that he 
 might be made a minister."
 
 AVI LI, BUR FI8K. 
 
 Meanwhile his collegiate course had involved both his 
 father and himself in expense, which made it necessary 
 for him to seek profitable employment, and, on the recom- 
 mendation of the President of Brown University, he 
 became a private tutor in the family of Col. Ridgely, at 
 Oaklands, near Baltimore, Md. Here most of his time was 
 spent in solitude, and in the colonel's well-stored library, 
 the anxiety of his mind increasing rather than diminish- 
 ing, and his health gradually, but perceptibly failing. 
 From his youth he had been subject to a dry cough, and 
 now violent symptoms of pulmonary disease manifested 
 themselves, resulting in copious hemorrhage from the 
 lungs. By the advice of his physician he returned home, 
 having to delay on the way thither to gather strength for 
 the different portions of the journey. On reaching home, 
 he found the Church enjoying a remarkable outpouring 
 of the Holy Spirit. In the midst of this work his early 
 enjoyments and blessings were fearfully contrasted with 
 his present condition, and the associations of former years 
 returned with renewed force. He was deeply affected, 
 and his distress so impressed one of the ministers in attend- 
 ance that years afterward he said: "I shall never forget 
 it, for the impression is as vivid in my mind as it was 
 when I saw the tears flowing down his emaciated cheeks." 
 In this state of mind he continued several days, until he 
 laid hold by faith upon One " mighty to save and strong 
 to deliver." 
 
 And now the idea of the ministry returned with renewed 
 force upon his mind, and "the love of Christ constrained 
 him." He was opposed by his old friends, who had looked 
 forward to his eminence at the bar or in political life as 
 certain; but, though taunted and ridiculed, he found the
 
 WILLBUK FI8K. 247 
 
 call of God stronger than the appeals of men, and fully 
 committed himself to the work. He did not enter upon 
 it rashly, or without consideration ; before his reclamation 
 it had been the subject of thought and prayer; and when 
 he found himself renewed in the strength of God, he had 
 no difficulty in settling the question. In 1838 he addressed 
 the Preachers' Aid Society of the city of Baltimore, and 
 though the writer of this brief sketch was but thirteen 
 years of age, he well remembers the deep interest that the 
 rehearsal of his experience awakened. It was given as a 
 dialogue between a young man and his Divine Master, in 
 which his objections are stated and answered: 
 
 Christ. Go, preach my gospel. 
 
 Answer. But, Lord, I have other engagements. 
 
 Christ You are not your own ; you are bought with a 
 price. 
 
 Ans. But, Lord, I have been preparing myself for 
 another profession ; I have been struggling for an educa- 
 tion ; I have high prospects before me, &c. 
 
 Christ. What have you that you have not received ? 
 
 Ans. Lord, I have strong domestic feelings, and I hope 
 one day to have a family of my own. 
 
 Christ. He that loveth houses or lands, wife or children, 
 more than me, is not worthy of me. 
 
 Ans. Lord, I have aged parents, and I am an only 
 son: filial love and duty require that I should look after 
 them. 
 
 Christ. He that loveth father or mother more than me 
 is not worthy of me. 
 
 Ans. Lord, is there no excuse? May not another answer? 
 
 Christ. The gifts and callings of God are without 
 repentance.
 
 24$ WILLBTB FISK. 
 
 Ans. At least, let me first stop and bury my father and 
 mother. 
 
 Christ. Let the dead bury their dead. 
 
 Ans. At any rate, I must wait awhile and acquire some 
 property. 
 
 Christ. He that putteth his hand to the plough and 
 looketh back, is not fit for the kingdom of heaven. 
 
 Ans. Lord, I cannot go. 
 
 Christ. Woe unto you if you preach not the gospel. 
 
 Ans. Lord, wilt thou not pity a poor helpless wretch 
 who begs for an excuse as one would plead for life ? 
 
 Christ. Ye know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, 
 that though he was rich, for your sakes he became poor, 
 that ye through his poverty might be made rich. 
 
 "Here," said Dr. Fisk, "the dialogue ended; the young 
 man covered his face with his hands, and bursting into 
 tears, cried, ' Nay, but I yield ! I yield !' The bond was 
 signed and sealed, and the youth was consigned over, body 
 and soul, to the Church. The next thing I saw of him he 
 was threading a pathless forest among the Green Moun- 
 tains bordering upon the Canada line, driving his horse 
 before him because of the roughness of the wilderness, 
 cheerful as an angel on an errand of mercy. And I heard 
 his song, with which he made the ragged mountain-tops 
 that hung over his path reverberate; and what, sir, do 
 you think it was? 
 
 " 'Nothing on earth I call my own 
 A stranger to the world unknown, 
 
 I all their goods despise ; 
 I trample on their whole delight, 
 And seek a city out of sight, 
 
 A city in the skies.' "
 
 WILLBUR FI8K. 
 
 From this time we find him entirely djevoted to the work 
 of the ministry. His first appointment was Craftsbury 
 Circuit. He laboured here two years with zeal and suc- 
 cess, and an incident occurred during his residence here 
 that displays the self-possession and coolness for which he 
 was so distinguished. "A lady at whose house he often 
 stayed, was unfortunately subject to temporary fits of 
 insanity. During one of these attacks, she one day rushed 
 to him with a large sharp-pointed butcher's or carving- 
 knife in her hand. Persons who were present saw it and 
 trembled. Stepping hastily up to Mr. Fisk, she tore open 
 his vest and shirt-bosom ere he was aware, and placing 
 the sharp point to his skin, said, "You must die. You 
 talk so much of heaven, I am going to send you there. 
 You are too good to live." Without quailing in the least, 
 he looked her calmly and steadily in the face. She paused 
 for some time, when, removing the instrument, she said, 
 " You are fit to live or die. We want such men on earth, 
 so I will let you live a little longer," and immediately left 
 the apartment. 
 
 At the Lynn Conference of 1819, he was appointed to 
 Charlestown, Mass. He went there under much depres- 
 sion; but the blessing of God attended him, and not only 
 made him the instrument of much good to others, but his 
 own personal experience was deepened and enlarged. 
 His religious emotions acquired a degree of intensity and 
 elevation never before enjoyed by him. His whole con- 
 versation, correspondence, and pulpit efforts glowed with 
 the rich fulness of the blessing of the gospel of peace. 
 
 The following "resolutions, entered into for the better 
 improvement of time," are given here not only to show 
 the secret of his success and strength, but also in the hope
 
 250 WILLBUK FISK. 
 
 that they may excite others to do likewise. They bear 
 date June 30th, 1819. 
 
 "1. I am resolved, so far as I can effect it, to retire at 
 nine, and rise at five. 
 
 "2. I will appropriate one hour to my morning devo- 
 tions. 
 
 " 3. I will allow one hour for breakfast, family devotion, 
 and such incidental circumstances as may demand my 
 attention. 
 
 " -i. I will write each day two hours. 
 
 " 5. I will spend two hours each day in some regular 
 scientific or literary study, which I shall adopt from time 
 to time. 
 
 " 6. I will spend one hour in miscellaneous reading. 
 
 "7. One hour for my devotions at noon, and one for 
 dinner. 
 
 " 8. One hour each day in preparing my discourses for 
 the Sabbath. 
 
 " 9. The remainder of the day to visiting. 
 
 "10. Whenever I am constrained from any cause to 
 break in upon my regular course, I will endeavour, as 
 much as possible, to prevent any loss of time by returning 
 to it as soon as may be, and will then attend to such 
 branches that my judgment dictates will be the most 
 improper to neglect ; at all times remembering not to cur- 
 tail my devotions and my preparations for the Sabbath." 
 
 These rules regulated his life while he continued in 
 active ministerial service. 
 
 During the second year of his ministry at Charlestown, 
 he sank under the multiplicity and fervour of his labours, 
 and was compelled to desist from active exertion. He 
 generally, if not always, preached without notes, and
 
 WILLBTTB FI8K. 251 
 
 warmly recommended this practice. But his sermons were 
 always studied with great care, and many of them give 
 evidence of elaborate preparation. His aim in preaching 
 was evidently to " commend himself to every man's con- 
 science in the sight of God." His style was polished, and 
 his delivery earnest, chaste, and impressive in an unusual 
 degree. He was an original thinker, deep and accurate. 
 We have heard some of his discourses described as too 
 abstruse for the multitude; but these must have been 
 exceptional occasions, his general style being perspicuous, 
 and his subjects adapted to the wants of the people. He 
 addressed himself to the audience. "On one occasion, 
 while preaching with great enlargement on the final judg- 
 ment, a man rose as in a frenzy, stamped upon the floor, 
 and, with a horrible oath, rushed out of the house." A 
 remark he made to a friend with reference to a discourse 
 in which he had felt particular interest, seems to be char- 
 acteristic of his general manner. He said, " It seemed as if 
 my mouth was filled with arguments suited to the tone of 
 feeling then excited in the people. There was weeping 
 throughout the house, and a solemn awe seemed to rest 
 upon the people." 
 
 The letters written during this period of affliction show, 
 that though disabled for the pulpit, he still had the interest 
 of his flock deeply at heart. It was a period of great 
 religious prosperity in the neighbourhood, and he felt the 
 restraint of his physical weakness deeply ; yet his soul was 
 comforted by the reflection, that if he could not move for- 
 ward with successful warriors, he could pray for their success. 
 
 At the New-England Conference of 1822, he was 
 ordained elder and returned superannuated, which rela- 
 tion he held but one year, and the next year he was made
 
 252 WILLBTTK FISK. 
 
 presiding elder of the Vermont district; and though he 
 was much younger than the class of men usually selected 
 for this office, he met its responsibilities and discharged its 
 duties with eminent success. 
 
 He was one of the delegates to the General Conference 
 of 1824, and was the author of the chaste, beautiful, and 
 appropriate reply to the address of the British Conference. 
 
 At the session of the Conference in 1826 he was recog- 
 nised as the Principal of the Wesleyan Academy at Wil- 
 braham, an institution which was already greatly indebted 
 to him for its position and prospects. His duties here 
 were onerous and multiplied. The school was new, the 
 assistants inexperienced, and the plan novel ; but his edu- 
 cation and natural talents admirably qualified him for the 
 post. He well knew that without religion schools of learn- 
 ing were likely to become nurseries of vice, and he com- 
 menced his career as an instructor of youth by uniting the 
 lessons of piety with those of wisdom, and consequently 
 but few terms, if any, elapsed while he was at the head 
 of this academy without a revival of religion. His biog- 
 rapher gives the following sketch of his mode of inter- 
 course with the students : " He believed that in order to 
 secure dignity of conduct and manliness of character, it is 
 necessary to inspire the youth with self-respect. To pro- 
 duce, therefore, in his mind a feeling of inferiority, he 
 thought highly prejudicial. Hence he ever treated stu- 
 dents, not as boys, but as young gentlemen. He addressed 
 them as such. He put on no magisterial airs. Though 
 strict as a disciplinarian, yet, by always treating the 
 students with respect, he taught them in return to respect 
 themselves and him. He never demanded any marks of 
 courtesy or formal expressions of reverence. He thought
 
 WILLBUK FI3K. 258 
 
 it better to leave this to the promptings of private feeling, 
 believing that, if the sentiments and feelings of the student 
 were properly trained, such expressions of respect as 
 urbanity demands, or custom sanctions, would be spon- 
 taneously given, provided the teacher's own demeanour 
 were such as to call them forth; but, in the absence of 
 these, the enforcement of respect by statute, or the formal 
 demand of it, would only create an empty parade, or 
 perhaps awaken a spirit of resistance, more fatal to the 
 authority of a teacher than negative rudeness." 
 
 Actuated by such motives, and governed by such prin- 
 ciples of action, he acquired the confidence of the patrons 
 and the affection of the students of the school, and made 
 a deep and lasting impression upon the minds of all with 
 whom he was associated. 
 
 He was a delegate to the General Conference of 1828, 
 and in the same year was elected to the office of bishop 
 of the Canada Conference. In 1829 he received the title 
 of Doctor of Divinity, was elected President of Lagrange 
 College, also professor in the University of Alabama ; and 
 his services were solicited by many important organiza- 
 tions which made lucrative offers to secure him. All these 
 offers were declined on account of the interest he felt for 
 the great subject of education among the Methodists of 
 New-England, which was now to become the chief busi- 
 ness of his life. 
 
 In all the questions of moment and importance which at 
 that time claimed the attention of the Church, he took an 
 active interest, devoting his energies largely to the mission- 
 ary, Bible, and tract cause, and to the great subject of tem- 
 perance. His frequent and protracted labours made deep 
 inroads upon his bodily strength and awakened a deep con-
 
 WILL BUB FISK. 
 
 cern in the minds of his friends ; but a conversation that 
 took place between him and his wife, after his return from 
 the General Conference of 1828, will show how they 
 affected his own mind. "Mrs. Fisk expressed her fears 
 that his late exertions would lay the foundation of some 
 fatal malady. His answer was, ' I hope not ; after resting 
 I shall be better. I have, to be sure, been called to make 
 great exertions in behalf of the Church. I have done it 
 conscientiously and from a sense of duty ; and,' added he, 
 raising his eyes full in her face with an expression she had 
 never seen in his countenance before, ' my dear wife, if my 
 exertions could only be the means of uniting the Church, 
 I am willing my life should be the sacrifice.' " He was 
 not called to lay down the weapons of warfare, however, 
 until he had accomplished much more for the good of the 
 Church and the world. 
 
 In 1830 he was elected President of the Wesleyan Uni- 
 versity, which post he filled till the day of his death. 
 Although he had taken an active part in the enterprise of 
 founding the institution, yet when called to assume the 
 responsibilities of the more intimate relation of President, 
 he did it with hesitation. Two considerations seem to 
 have influenced him. " One of these was a desire that in 
 the contemplated institution some arrangement might be 
 made for the benefit of the sons of his brethren in the 
 ministry, few of whom, on account of the expense, could 
 enjoy the advantages of a liberal education. The other 
 was the necessity of some more efficient measures for the 
 education of young men who might be called to the work 
 of foreign missions ; for it was evident that the arrange- 
 ments of the Church for the improvement of the domestic 
 ministry must be very inadequate to the wants of the
 
 WILLBUR FI8K. 255 
 
 foreign work." Arrangements were made by which in 
 December he left the institution with which he had been 
 connected at "Wilbraham, to enter immediately upon the 
 duties of his new situation at Middletown. While arrang- 
 ing his plans for the financial affairs of the University, he 
 enjoyed a brief interval of rest from the perplexing care 
 and toil to which he had been subjected. It was, how- 
 ever, of short duration. Completing his arrangements, he 
 entered immediately upon the business of collecting funds 
 for the support of the new institution. The task was a 
 discouraging one, and the difficulties connected with its 
 performance had their effect upon his spirits, although 
 they could not weaken his resolution. After an unpleasant 
 journey from Springfield to Hartford, on his way to New- 
 York, he writes to Mrs. Fisk : 
 
 " What success I shall have in New-York is very prob- 
 lematical, but I must go and do what I can. ... I rather 
 dread engaging in these conflicts with selfishness and 
 covetousness ; but when I get well engaged, I can drive 
 on with pretty good courage. I sometimes ask myself, 
 Am I never to be done with these new enterprises? To 
 be always pushing up hill is hard work, but I suppose I 
 must tug on. Perhaps if I have any appropriate place in 
 the army of the faithful, it is that of a pioneer. This is 
 not the easiest department, but still I like it, because it 
 has so much of chivalry in it, and keeps the mind so much 
 awake to its duties. What a dull world this would have 
 been if our Creator had left everything prepared and 
 planned to our hands ! I am glad he did not do it. It 
 was enough that he furnished materials, and tools, and a 
 mind, and commanded us to plan, and fashion, and exe- 
 cute, according to our several ability. O there is an
 
 250 WILLBUR FI8K. 
 
 interest in this course which wakes up the soul and calls 
 out the energies of the intellect, and makes man feel he 
 does not live in vain." 
 
 In the following September the duties of the University 
 were opened with appropriate literary ceremonies. The 
 inaugural address was an able production, and was imme- 
 diately published and widely circulated. The views con- 
 tained in it elevated the new institution at once to a 
 commanding position before the public, and gave a suffi- 
 cient guarantee of the ability of its author to preside over 
 the education of young men. The consequence was that 
 the number of students soon became quite large. 
 
 " Dr. Fisk was now fully inducted into his new office, 
 and found himself as much involved in business as ever. 
 His hands, and head, and heart were completely occupied. 
 He was again the principal of a new institution, where the 
 foundation had to be laid and the superstructure reared. 
 In such a situation one with his peculiar disposition would 
 necessarily find ample occupation. All called upon him 
 for advice or other aid, and his supervision extended 
 everywhere. He draughted rules for the University, and 
 framed the regulations of a boarding department; he 
 superintended the studies in college, and the pecuniary 
 arrangements of the prudential committee; he heard 
 classes recite in Greek, Latin, and metaphysics, and lis- 
 tened to the petty details of the students' personal con- 
 cerns; and while he aided the professors in the higher 
 regions of mind, he often came down to the examination 
 of the accounts of the institution. He was remarkably 
 fitted for this multiplicity of business by his peculiar tact 
 in management, his readiness and flexibility of mind, his 
 knowledge of men, habits of order, and facility in exe-
 
 WILLBUR FISK. 257 
 
 cuting his plans. He was never embarrassed, never out 
 of temper. Always calm, even in the midst of tumult, he 
 never lost the control of his faculties. He exhibited such 
 knowledge of affairs, such fertility of mind, skill, and 
 address in transacting business as very soon convinced the 
 prudential committee that they had no ordinary man to 
 deal with. Skill in securing cooperation in his plans was 
 one of his peculiar qualifications. All had confidence in 
 his judgment, and, in most things, readily yielded to his 
 views. His own mind seemed the centre of light and 
 influence, and its radiations illumined all who were 
 about him." 
 
 Of his influence upon the students too much cannot be 
 said. No sacrifice was too costly that would secure their 
 progress in morals and truth. He laboured indefatigably ; 
 and though his delicate health would have seemed a suffi- 
 cient excuse for not attending morning prayers in the 
 chapel at six o'clock, he insisted upon performing this 
 duty until compelled to desist by the urgent solicitations 
 of the faculty. 
 
 His intercourse with offending students was admirably 
 calculated to effect a reformation. He commanded the 
 reverence and attachment of the students. His perfect 
 self-possession always sustained his dignity of character, 
 and commanded respect. Yet "he was very seldom 
 severe, occasionally sarcastic, often witty and humorous, 
 just so as to turn the laugh upon the offender. Generally, 
 he was mild and gentle, but never harsh nor angry." His 
 admonitions were always directed to the moral principle 
 involved, and he seldom failed in producing such impres- 
 sions as were lasting and efficacious. The number of stu- 
 dents dismissed during his presidency was remarkably 
 
 ir
 
 258 WILLBUK FI8K. 
 
 small ; and though this is not always the best test of good 
 government, still the unusual qualifications of Dr. Fisk, as 
 well as the character and reputation of the institution, 
 leave no room to doubt that it was the result of his per- 
 sonal influence and power. 
 
 The students of the University, dispersed as they are 
 over the union, and filling posts of labour in foreign mis- 
 sions, all bear willing testimony to the faithfulness of his 
 labours, the fervour of his zeal, the force of his example, 
 the authority of his teaching. Though one of his suc- 
 cessors had unquestionably a more massive intellect, and 
 was in every other respect fully equal to the position, yet 
 Dr. Fisk will ever be remembered by the students of Mid- 
 dletown as the model President. 
 
 He was a member of the General Conference of 1832, 
 and in the year 1833 he was largely concerned in the 
 Indian missions. Indeed, he may be said to have origin- 
 ated the mission in Oregon, which has done so much for 
 the original inhabitants of our land, and which, having 
 become the Oregon Conference, is doing a great and good 
 work among the settlers of the far West. 
 
 He wrote and published stirring appeals on the subject 
 of temperance, engaged in the Calvinistic controversy, and 
 lent the aid of his influence to every good word and work. 
 Meanwhile the influence of the University was extending, 
 the number of students increasing, and, to those that did 
 not know how much he was doing outside its walls, it 
 seemed as though he was fully occupied with its interests. 
 His labours were crowned with abundant success, and his 
 prayers were answered in the spiritual growth of the stu- 
 dents. But the exposure incident upon a series of meet- 
 ings, during which all the students, with three or four
 
 WILLBUK FISK. 259 
 
 exceptions, made a profession of religion, and the necessity 
 that was laid upon him to travel for the benefit of the 
 pecuniary affairs of the school, prostrated his health so 
 much that he never entirely recovered from it. The year 
 1834 was peculiarly trying to him, and the condition of his 
 health led, after consultation with his medical advisers, to 
 his voyage to Europe ; but various causes delayed his 
 departure until the fall of 1835. The results of his observa- 
 tions while in Europe he has published. The book shows 
 clearly the practical character of his mind. His observa- 
 tions are principally directed to the literary, moral, and 
 religious state of society rather than to descriptions of 
 antique ruins or stupendous works of art. The eagerness 
 with which he investigated his favourite topics, and the 
 faithfulness with which he discusses them, operated 
 undoubtedly injuriously upon his constitution, and proba- 
 bly counteracted the benefits he might otherwise have 
 received from his tour. Yet, though he returned with- 
 out material benefit to his health, he prepared this work 
 for the press in the midst of numerous interruptions, 
 and while discharging the ordinary duties of the Uni- 
 versity. ** . 
 
 "While absent in Europe the General Conference had 
 elected him to the Episcopal ofiice. Immediately on his 
 return he gave the subject the most earnest consideration, 
 and declined consecration in a letter full of Christian de- 
 votion and humility. 
 
 On the 1st day of August, 1838, he attended, for the last 
 time, the Commencement of the University. The feeble- 
 ness that had followed a severe attack in Pisa became daily 
 more extreme, and, though he wrote much and preached 
 frequently afterward, it was evident to all that his days
 
 WILLBUK FISK. 
 
 were numbered. The last meeting he ever attended was 
 on the occasion of the return of the missionary whom he 
 had selected, and whose residence among the Indians of the 
 West had been accomplished by his energy. His last 
 labours were in behalf of the Oregon mission. 
 
 And yet it may seriously be doubted whether all the 
 active labours of his life, all his preaching, his devotion to 
 missions, his interest in education, accomplished more for 
 the world than the scenes of his sick room and his dying 
 couch would have done could they have been seen by all 
 as by the chosen few who were with him to the last. 
 Death had no terrors for him, and he met it with that 
 calmness which bespoke a soul prepared. The Wesleyan 
 University, his English brethren, the missionary society, as 
 well as his personal friends, were all affectionately remem- 
 bered by him in his last moments. 
 
 "Sunday, the 10th of February, was a day of uncom- 
 mon interest and solemnity. There was not the least pros- 
 pect of his recovery, so that it was not thought necessary 
 to restrain him from conversing, and yet his strength was 
 not so far exhausted as to prevent the free play of his mind 
 and feelings. The scene in his chamber was transcend- 
 ently elevating. In the morning he asked Mrs. Fisk what 
 day it was. On ascertaining, he observed, ' This would be 
 a good day to die.' ' Perhaps,' said Mrs. Fisk, ' the Lord 
 will take you to his rest this day.' ' Then I can worship,' 
 was his answer, ' with the Sabbath-keeping bands in heav- 
 en, but I cannot here.' On being told that he always 
 loved the Sabbath, ' Yes,' he replied, ' and though it was a 
 day of toil to me, yet I loved my work. To me the Sab- 
 bath has been an emblem of that promised rest. O, that 
 rest is sweet ; it is glorious !' He then beckoned his
 
 WILLBUR FI8K. 261 
 
 adopted daughter to him, saying, ' Let us pray together ;' 
 and, throwing an arm round each of them as they kneeled 
 before him, he offered up a prayer, gasping it out word by 
 word, which seemed the very language of the spiritual 
 world. It was deep, pathetic, powerful, sublime. Then, 
 as they rose from their knees, he said, ' Vain human rea- 
 soners often tell us that the soul and the body will go down 
 together to the dust, because the spirit is depressed when 
 the body is ; but it is not true. These clogs of earth have 
 often retarded the operations of my mind, and been as so 
 many barriers to its activity ; but now I feel a strength of 
 soul and an energy of mind which this body, though 
 afflicted and pained, cannot impair. The soul has an 
 energy of its own ; and so far from my body pressing my 
 soul down to earth, I feel as if my soul had almost power 
 to raise the body upward and bear it away : and it will at 
 last, by the power of God, effectually draw it to heaven, for 
 its attractions are all thitherward.' 
 
 "February 14th, as his regular physician, Dr. Miner, 
 was examining his pulse, he faintly said, 'Why do you 
 examine the pulse without prescribing ? Is it low ?' ' Yes 
 sir, very low.' ' Is it fluttering ?' * Not yet, sir.' ' Not 
 yetf he replied, faintly, and then sighed out, 'The hour of 
 release is at hand.' " He lingered until the twenty-second 
 and then died, as he had lived, in the triumphs of faith. 
 
 Thus lived and thus died this great and good man. 
 He accomplished a great work, and filled up the measure 
 of his days with usefulness. The impetus that his exer- 
 tions gave to the missionary cause doubled the receipts of 
 the treasury in one year. His labours established the cause 
 of Methodist education in New-England. Singularly hon- 
 oured in being elected to the episcopal office in two dis-
 
 262 WILLBUB FI8K. 
 
 tinct organizations, his life was characterized by great 
 uniform humility. As a speaker he had few equals ; his 
 graphic power of conception, his pure and felicitous expres- 
 sion, his collected and yet impetuous delivery, gave him 
 the " clearness, force, and earnestness which produce con- 
 viction ;" while the delicate pathos of his intonation, and the 
 winning love of his own pure heart controlled the sympa- 
 thies of his audience, and moved them at his will. In con- 
 troversy he stood forth preeminently the champion of the 
 Church; and though assailed with bitter animosity and 
 unsparing personality, it is believed that no line or senti- 
 ment can be found in all his writings which he might wish 
 to recall, as manifesting personal heat or a want of Chris- 
 tian courtesy. 
 
 He was a model worthy of imitation ; lovely in private 
 life ; indefatigable in public labours ; finished in scholar- 
 ship ; devoted in holiness ; triumphant in death. Men of 
 letters lost in him a worthy associate, and the Church her 
 noblest son.

 
 d br Welch I Walter nulad (rcm a ? innnj by 3 
 
 GEOtRSE IPDSKEKDMG, 
 
 NKW ENGLAND CONFERENCX
 
 OUR engraving presents a very accurate likeness of the 
 veteran Pickering in his latter years it tells his charac- 
 teristic simplicity his quaint humour even lurks in the 
 lines of the face, and the defect of his left eye has not 
 escaped the attention of the artist. 
 
 GEORGE PICKERING is an historical name in the annals of 
 New-England Methodism. Not great in talents, he was 
 both original and great in character, and his was the pecu- 
 liar power that pertains to character. Talents, without a 
 definite character, are seldom of much avail; but well- 
 marked character, even without notable talents, has a 
 power of its own, often the most effective power a 
 power that empowers every other attribute. George 
 Pickering's long and useful career was an illustration of 
 this characteristic effectiveness. 
 
 He was one of the strong men the "giants of those 
 days" who were sent by the old Baltimore Conference to 
 found Methodism in the Eastern States a corps of evan- 
 gelists, which, headed by Jesse Lee, and continually 
 recruited from the same Conference through the last 
 decade of the last century, fought the first battles of 
 Methodism in New-England. And they were battles 
 such as the new sect encountered in no other field on
 
 264 GEORGE PICKERING. 
 
 the continent. In most of its other fields Methodism did 
 not find the ground prepossessed by traditional theological 
 opinions. "Within the Baltimore Conference, and south of 
 it, the Anglican Church, by its similarity of creed and the 
 absence of its clergy, during and after the Revolution, 
 opened the way of Methodism. The West, so far as it was 
 yet accessible, presented no theological prepossession, but 
 welcomed the generous theology and heroic spirit of the 
 new denomination as peculiarly congenial with its own 
 character. The commixture of sects in the Middle States 
 afforded it fair play there. But in the East it was treated 
 by the official guardians of the "standing order" as an 
 heretical and unconscionably pertinacious intruder. New- 
 England was everywhere defined into parishes, and sup- 
 plied with a "settled ministry." The "minister" ranked 
 as the highest personage of the village, the magistrate and 
 deacon ranging next in order. The people were taxed for 
 the support of the hereditary faith. That faith was invet- 
 erately Calvinistic, and was shocked at the Arminianism of 
 Methodism. 
 
 The appearance, in such a field as this, of a few men in 
 Quaker-like dress, on horseback, with their whole ward- 
 robe and library in their saddle-bags, driving to and fro 
 with all speed, preaching day and night, "crying aloud 
 and sparing not," was a surprise, a mystery to the staid 
 community, most especially to the clergy, whose parish 
 bounds were incessantly crossed and recrossed with as 
 little regard as if they were indeed but " imaginary lines/' 
 They were tolerated, of course, for that the law required ; 
 but in some cases they were denied everything else but 
 toleration even the most ordinary hospitalities. Lee 
 records repeated visits to the same village where the
 
 GEORGE PICKERING. 265 
 
 people came to the court-house to hear him, but coolly 
 allowed him, after the discourse, to mount his horse and 
 ride away without a single invitation to " call at any man's 
 home." " God only knows," he wrote, " what I have had 
 to endure ;" and again he says, " If the Lord did not com- 
 fort me, in hoping against hope, or believing against 
 appearances, I should depart from the work in this part 
 of the world." 
 
 The men who came to the help of Lee in this formida- 
 ble field were among the most effective preachers of 
 Methodism known in that day. Dr. George Roberts, Daniel 
 Smith, Jacob Brush, John Bloodgood, Nathaniel B. Mills, 
 Hope Hull, Joshua Taylor, Daniel Ostrander, John Broad- 
 head, Shadrach Bostwick, William Beauchamp, and, not 
 the least, George Pickering, were of the number. They 
 were "master-builders;" and the subsequent symmetry 
 and firmness of the structure of Methodism in the East, 
 is owing to the manner in which they laid its foundations. 
 
 Pickering was born in Talbot County, Maryland, in 
 1769. He was converted at the age of eighteen in St. 
 George's Church, Philadelphia, and joined the Baltimore 
 Conference in 1790. His first appointment was on the 
 old Northampton Circuit, in Yirginia. After a thorough 
 induction into the hardships of itinerant life in Yirginia 
 and Maryland, he was sent by Asbury to New-England, 
 about four years subsequent to the arrival of Lee. Lee, 
 Cooper, Roberts, Ostrander, Mudge, and some twenty other 
 itinerants, were now abroad in the same field, and welcomed 
 him to their conflicts and their victories. His first appoint- 
 ment (1793) in the East was on Hartford (Conn.) Circuit. 
 
 "We give in detail his subsequent appointments a strik- 
 ing example of Methodist itinerancy. In 1794, Tolland ;
 
 266 GEORGE PICKERING. 
 
 1795, Lynn; 1796, Boston and Needham; the following 
 four years, presiding elder of the New-England District, 
 including the whole field of Methodism in the New-Eng- 
 land States, except Maine and Connecticut. We can 
 scarcely form a conception, amid the facilities of travel- 
 ling in these days, of the vast journies and labours com- 
 prised in this extraordinary district. Commencing at Prov- 
 idence, it extended down the Providence River, taking in 
 the appointments on both its shores, to Newport; thence 
 it reached to the islands of Martha's Vineyard and Nan- 
 tucket ; thence it swept the whole of Cape Cod, to Prov- 
 incetown, and returning, took in all the eastern portion of 
 Massachusetts, extended to all the interior appointments 
 of the State, except one on its western boundary, and 
 penetrated through New-Hampshire to beyond the centre 
 of Vermont. In 1801, he was appointed to Boston, Lynn, 
 and Marblehead; 1802, Salisbury and Hawke; the follow- 
 ing four years, Boston District; 1807, the city of Boston; 
 1809, he was missionary at large ; then on Boston District 
 again for four years ; 1813, 1814, Boston city ; the ensuing 
 two years, Lynn; 1817, Boston District for four years; 
 the next three years, missionary at large ; 1824, mission- 
 ary at Newburyport and Gloucester; the next five years, 
 missionary at large ; 1830, 1831, Easton and Bridgewater ; 
 1832, Lowell; 1833, Cambridge; 1834, Worcester; 1835, 
 Marblehead and Salem ; 1836, Charlestown; 1837, Water- 
 town Mission; 1838, Wafertown and Waltham; 1839, 
 Roxbury; 1840, 1841, Weston; 1842, Saxonville; 1843, 
 Church-street, Boston; 1844, 1845, Medford; 1846, North 
 Reading remarkable record of tireless travels, labours, 
 and privations, in the work of his Divine Master, during 
 fifty-seven years! There is a severe and significant elo-
 
 GEOKGE PICKEUING. 26T 
 
 quence in this bare recital of names and dates, which no 
 comments can enhance. 
 
 He was a member of every General Conference of the 
 Church, save two, during forty years. Down to the year 
 1836 his name had in every instance been placed first on 
 the New-England delegation. At that session, and also the 
 one of 1840, it was displaced by the names of the two 
 principal leaders of the Secession which soon followed. 
 In 1844 he reappeared in that venerable body ; it was the 
 last session in his life, and it was his affliction to witness 
 the deplorable scene of the division of the Church. In 
 the General Conference of 1808, he was a member of the 
 committee which first projected a delegated General Con- 
 ference. 
 
 He was emphatically an itinerant. His early habits of 
 travel clung to him through life. Nine years he spent as 
 a missionary at large in the Conference a work for which 
 he was peculiarly fitted and during sixteen years he 
 travelled extended and laborious districts as a Presiding 
 Elder. 
 
 About three miles from the village of Watertown, Mass., 
 is a rural spot of no little landscape beauty, and memorable 
 in the primitive history of Methodism once the home- 
 stead of Abraham Bemis. The journals of the early 
 Methodist preachers abound in allusions to it. Asbury, 
 Whatcoat, Lee, Hedding, Roberts, &c., used to turn aside 
 to it, as pilgrims to a shrine or mariners to a favourite 
 haven. After ascending a winding road from Watertown, 
 among hills and richly-cultivated farms, the traveller is led, 
 by a private way, through attractive landscapes, to an un- 
 pretending but spacious and comfortable mansion, which 
 stands on the southern side of an amphitheatre of hills.
 
 268 GEORGE riCKEKING. 
 
 The enclosed area is about half a mile in diameter, and 
 presents charming prospects in all directions. The house 
 was, in the first years of Methodism, embosomed in or- 
 chards, under which the great men of the Church in that day 
 preached sermons that made the amphitheatre echo. The 
 Methodist society of the town was formed here, and Abra- 
 ham Bemis and his family became its first members. 
 Hundreds heard the gospel in its power on his premises, 
 and doubtless many still look down from heaven with glad- 
 ness upon the memorable spot. His hospitality seemed 
 only to enhance his prosperity ; his property increased, all 
 his household and many of his other kindred became mem- 
 bers of the Church, and the good old saint, who welcomed 
 the pilgrims of the Lord in the day of their adversity, at 
 last went to heaven, " triumphant in the faith and hope of 
 the gospel," at the ripe age of eighty-seven years. 
 
 His daughter, Mary Bemis, was received into the Church 
 when about seventeen years old, and in two years after- 
 ward became the wife of George Pickering, who at last 
 inherited the consecrated homestead, and maintained to the 
 end its old hospitality. We give a finely-engraved pic- 
 ture of this mansion. It is an historical monument of our 
 cause. 
 
 The marriage of Pickering was in all respects a happy 
 one. Through his long life, most of it spent in absence as 
 a travelling preacher, his home was an asylum to which, 
 at his regular periodical times and at no others, he returned 
 to find solace and repose from his labours and trials. The 
 only detraction from its enjoyments was the thought that 
 so many of his heroic fellow-labourers had no similar shel- 
 ter for themselves or their families ; with them, however, he 
 ever wished to share his happiness. His doors were always

 
 GEORGE PICKERING. 269 
 
 open to receive them, and many a way-worn prophet has 
 sent up his evening prayer, and sung a matin hymn of 
 gratitude beneath his roof. 
 
 Many most, indeed of our first Methodist preachers 
 had to locate for a part of their lives, at least, in order to pro- 
 vide for their families. Of six hundred and fifty who had 
 been on the minutes by the end of the last century, five 
 hundred died in the local ranks, and most of the remainder 
 had located ; though, on becoming relieved of domestic em- 
 barrassments, they were able to reenter the itinerancy and 
 to die in it. George Pickering is one of the few who never 
 located. His happy marriage, and happy home at Water- 
 town, relieved him from the sad necessity. Nor did he, as 
 is often the case, abuse his providential comforts by self-in- 
 dulgence, by retreating from his post unduly to enjoy them. 
 His rigour in this respect was one of the characteristic traits 
 of his life ; it was, perhaps, unparalleled, and, we are inclined 
 to say, too severe. He never entered his home, as we have 
 said, except at the assigned periodical times. Only one- 
 fifth of his married life ten years in fifty were spent 
 under his own roof! His strictness in this respect reminds 
 us of the noble, but defective virtue of the old Roman 
 character. If business called him to the town of his family 
 residence, at other times than those appropriated to his 
 domestic visits, he returned to his post of labour without 
 crossing the threshold of his home. In that terrible calam- 
 ity which spread gloom over the land the burning of the 
 steamer Lexington, by night, on Long Island Sound he 
 lost a beloved daughter. The intensity of the affliction was 
 not capable of enhancement, yet he stood firmly on his 
 ministerial watch-tower, though with a bleeding heart, 
 while his family, but a few miles distant, were frantic with
 
 GEOKGE PICKERING. 
 
 anguish. Not till the due time did he return to them ; 
 when it arrived, he entered his home with a sorrow- 
 smitten spirit, pressed in silence the hand of his wife, 
 and, without uttering a word, retired to an adjoining 
 room, where he spent some hours in solitude and unutter- 
 able grief. 
 
 That home, the scene of so many triumphs of grace, so 
 much hospitality, and so much happiness, was at last made 
 memorable as the dying scene of the apostolic veteran 
 tJie oldest tra/velling Methodist preacher in the world at 
 the time.* It has been our honour to be a guest within 
 its walls occasionally ; but our most esteemed privilege of 
 the kind was to witness the aged preacher's last triumph 
 there. We rode out to the mansion in company with the 
 Methodist preachers of Boston. Such was his extreme 
 feebleness, that visitors, and even audible devotional 
 exercises, had been almost entirely inadmissible in his 
 chamber. It was feared, therefore, before our arrival, 
 that it would be possible only for us to send up to him 
 the assurance of our Christian regard, without the privi- 
 lege of a personal interview. At his own request, how- 
 ever, we were all permitted to approach his bedside. 
 A scene ensued there which no pen can describe. As it 
 was impossible for him to address the visitors individually, 
 one of them was designated to speak to him in behalf of 
 all ; but under the necessary restriction of doing so in the 
 briefest possible manner. On taking the hand of the aged 
 sufferer, he opened his eyes, and showed his recognition of 
 
 There were, the last year of his life, but two members of American 
 Conferences (Ezekiel Cooper and Joshua Wells) who preceded him, and but 
 fourteen in England ; they had all, however, retired from actual service. 
 Memorials of Methodism.
 
 GEORGE PICKERING. 271 
 
 the brother addressing him, by tears of affection. The fol- 
 lowing brief conversation ensued : 
 
 " Beloved father, a number of your ministerial brethren 
 are present, and have requested me to express to you their 
 Christian affection and sympathy." 
 
 He replied, with strong emphasis and tears, "I thank 
 you ; you all have a high place in my affection." 
 
 "They are happy to learn that, in this your extremity, 
 you are still rejoicing in hope of the glory of God." 
 
 "Yes! Oyes!" 
 
 " That you feel that the sting of death is extracted." 
 
 "Yes! Oyes!" 
 
 " And that you can resign yourself fully into the hands 
 of your Lord." 
 
 " Yes, O yes ; glory be to his name !" 
 
 Grasping the hand of the brother addressing him with 
 still firmer hold, he then, with tears and sobs, exclaimed : 
 
 "You all have my high esteem and affection. Tell, O 
 tell the brethren to preach Christ and him crucified an 
 all-able, all-powerful, all-willing, all-ready Saviour a pres- 
 ent Saviour, sa/ving now. Preach, ' Now is the accepted 
 time, now is the day of salvation.' O, tell them to preach 
 holiness : holiness is the principal thing. Preach holiness, 
 holiness God enable you to preach holiness." 
 
 His emotions overcame him he attempted to say more, 
 but the brother conducting the conversation closed it by 
 saying : 
 
 " "We thank God, dear father, for the good testimony 
 and counsel we have been permitted to receive from you ; 
 we shall never forget it. We regret that your condition 
 will not allow us to linger longer with you ; we take our 
 leave, to meet you in heaven. God bless you ! Farewell !"
 
 272 GEORGE PICKERING. 
 
 The scene was touching and sublime a hoary and heroic 
 veteran of the cross was standing between both worlds, 
 about to disappear from his fellow-labourers forever on 
 earth. Full of years, and virtues, and services, he was 
 now victorious over death, and giving his departing coun- 
 sels to his brethren. We broke away from the room, so 
 near the gate of heaven, with deep emotions, and assem- 
 bled in the parlour below, where we sung, within reach of 
 his hearing, 
 
 " On Jordan's stormy banks I stand," &o. 
 
 After which the company knelt in prayer, and committing 
 the venerable saint, his family, and ourselves to God, we 
 returned to the city, thanking God, "who giveth us the 
 victory, through our Lord Jesus Christ," and feeling that 
 we had enjoyed a memorable day. 
 
 The hero of so many fields died as he had lived victori- 
 ous. His last distinct utterance was, " All my affairs for 
 time and eternity are settled. Glory be to God !" And 
 the last whisper caught by his attendants, was the word 
 "GLORY!" 
 
 George Pickering was a perfect Christian gentleman. 
 He was neat in his person even to preciseness. He re- 
 tained, to the end of his life, the plain costume of our first 
 ministry, and it was always brushed to the last degree of 
 cleanliness. No man in New-England ever wore less soiled 
 shoes. His care in these respects was fastidious, to be 
 sure, but it was characteristic, and if erring, erred on the 
 right side. In manners he was without ceremony, but 
 equally exempt from negligence. No one ever saw in 
 George Pickering a questionable point of manners, in 
 whatever place or company. He exemplified, as well as
 
 GEORGE PICKERING. 273 
 
 any man we ever knew, that best proof of the true gentle- 
 man, manners without mannerism. 
 
 As a preacher he was always brief, direct, very sys- 
 tematic and perspicuous, and he never failed to close 
 his remarks with a distinct, powerful, and home-addressed 
 exhortation. There was a dry, pithy humour playing 
 through his conversation, and it often darted out in his dis- 
 courses. We never knew a single instance, however, in 
 which it became personal sarcasm, or could give pain to 
 the hearer. 
 
 There was much of what was called " the philosopher " 
 about him. He could not be surprised or thrown off his 
 guard. His characteristic precision extended to his habits 
 of diet, of sleeping, and rising. He never spoke but to the 
 point, and avoided men of many words. He never occu- 
 pied five minutes at a time in Conference discussions. He 
 never showed very strong emotions, either of joy or grief. 
 His life, after taking its designation, kept right onward, 
 wavering not, faltering not, till he entered the gate of 
 heaven. 
 
 His moral traits were strong and steadfast. He was a 
 man of faith, of habitual prayer, of decided tenacity for his 
 Arminian sentiments, of deliberate, unshakable courage, 
 and of the strictest conscientiousness. 
 
 " Such was George Pickering," says one who knew him 
 well; "pure in character, laborious in life, triumphant in 
 death." What more need be said of him? 
 
 18
 
 *//?24zn(
 
 IT is the object of this article to give a brief sketch of the 
 life and character of an eminent servant of God, who, dur- 
 ing more than thirty years' service in the ministry, filled 
 with honour and success the various stations and offices to 
 which he was called everywhere winning the affections 
 of the people, and at all times enjoying the confidence and 
 esteem of his brethren, till he was suddenly summoned from 
 his work to his reward. 
 
 NOAH LEVTNGS was born in Cheshire County, New-Hamp- 
 shire, on the 29th of September, 1796. His parents being 
 in humble circumstances, he was sent from home to earn a 
 livelihood when about eight or nine years of age. From 
 that time he shared but few of the joys or advantages of 
 the parental home. But, even among comparative stran- 
 gers, the amiableness of his character and the faithfulness 
 of his service everywhere secured for him friends. His 
 early advantages for mental improvement were very limited 
 a source of much regret to him in after life. In his case, 
 it was a matter of little consequence that the public schools 
 were poorly supported and poorly conducted ; that text- 
 books were defective and teachers incompetent. To him, 
 thirsting for knowledge, yet from very childhood com- 
 pelled to toil for his daily bread, the few advantages they
 
 2T6 NOAH LIVINGS. 
 
 did afford would have been regarded as a boon above all 
 price. 
 
 His early religious impressions were deep and lasting. 
 But experimental religion was little known at that period 
 within the circle of his acquaintance. High Calvinism had 
 begotten its opposite in error Universalism, and the two 
 opinions were in conflict for the mastery. It could not be 
 doubtful, (apart from divine interposition,) in an age when 
 the tone of piety and of morals was emphatically low, 
 which would have the vantage-ground in the contest. The 
 one required morality nay, piety, after its kind ; the other 
 dispensed with both, while at the same time its "policies 
 of insurance " were issued on the largest scale. In such a 
 contest, carried on in such an age, the chances were on the 
 side of the scheme which promised most and required least. 
 Nor have we any doubt that Universalism would long since 
 have obtained the mastery in New-England, had not the 
 fermenting mass been impregnated with the leaven of a 
 purer faith and a richer experience. Divine Providence 
 raised up a people to proclaim a free, a present, and a full 
 salvation ; this, by the new elements of Christian power it 
 evoked, has proved a check and an anti'dote to the system 
 of religious licentiousness which was sweeping over the 
 land like a flood. 
 
 At the age of sixteen the subject of our memoir was 
 apprenticed to a blacksmith in Troy, his parents having 
 previously removed to that place. When he entered upon 
 his new situation he formed the resolution to be faithful to 
 his master, and regard his interests as his own. His morals 
 were placed in great peril. His master was not religious, 
 and did not pretend to control him upon the Sabbath ; and 
 he was led into the company of Sabbath-breakers, and with
 
 NOAH LEVINGS. 
 
 them spent much holy time in roaming over the fields and 
 through the woods adjacent to the city. But his natural 
 good sense, and the uncorrupted moral principles incul- 
 cated in early life, soon came to his relief. His parents, 
 though not professedly pious, had trained their children to 
 a strict observance of the Christian Sabbath, and now the 
 moral influence of that early training revived and wrought 
 his deliverance, as it has that of thousands of young men 
 similarly exposed. 
 
 Breaking away from these associations, he determined 
 to become a regular attendant upon the worship of God in 
 some one of the churches. All Churches were alike to 
 him, for he had not become familiar with the creeds of 
 any, nor, indeed, scarcely with the peculiarities in their 
 forms of worship. lie therefore determined upon a circuit 
 of visitation to the several churches in the city ; and, in 
 carrying out this design, he first visited the Presbyterian 
 Church, then under the pastoral charge of Kev. Jonas Coe, 
 D. D. ; who, he says, " was a good man and an excellent 
 pastor." He next attended the Baptist Church, where 
 " good old Mr. "Wayland (the father of President Wayland) 
 was the minister." Though favourably impressed with the 
 piety and abilities of both of these servants of God, he 
 could not feel at home in their congregations. His third 
 visit was made to the Protestant Episcopal Church, but 
 there he was wearied with ceremonies too numerous and 
 complicated to be either interesting or edifying. He next 
 attended the meeting of the Friends ; but here, instead of 
 long prayers and tedious ceremonies, he heard nothing at 
 all ; nor was he loth to leave when the hour was up and 
 the sign for closing given. 
 
 His last visit of inquiry was at the Methodist Episcopal
 
 NOAH LEVINGS. 
 
 Church. He found a small house, occupied by a simple, 
 plain, and solemn people. Their worship, though not im- 
 posing in its forms, was hearty and sincere. It not a little 
 surprised him to witness, for the first time in his life, a con- 
 gregation kneeling down in time of prayer. The convic- 
 tion was wrought in his mind that this people were the 
 people of God. Under the ministry of the word, feelings 
 were awakened which he had known nowhere else ; and 
 under the powerful reasonings and cogent appeals of the 
 Rev. P. P. Sandford, the stationed minister, he was often 
 made to feel that God truly was in that place. But it was 
 more particularly under the preaching of the Rev. Laban 
 Clark, who succeeded Mr. Sandford, that he was led to 
 realize fully his lost condition, and to feel the necessity of 
 seeking salvation by faith in the Lord Jesus Christ. On 
 one occasion he left the church so overwhelmed with the 
 consciousness of his guilt and wretchedness, that he almost 
 bordered upon despair. The struggles of his soul were 
 deep and powerful ; and in the privacy of his closet he 
 wrestled and agonized before God. This was long before 
 he had broken the secret of his heart even to his most inti- 
 mate friends. He at length unburdened his mind to a 
 pious young man of his acquaintance. By this young man 
 he was taken to the prayer-meeting, then held at the house 
 of Dr. Landon, a man of God now departed to his rest, but 
 whose memory is like " ointment poured forth." Here the 
 young inquirer became more perfectly instructed in the 
 way of salvation by faith, and was also a subject of special 
 and earnest prayer. 
 
 He sought God sincerely and unreservedly : he prayed 
 earnestly, and with many tears. There was no tie that he 
 would not sunder, and no sacrifice that he would not make,
 
 NOAH LEVINGS. 279 
 
 if necessary, to secure the favour of his offended Lord. 
 Yet his conversion was less sudden, and less strongly 
 marked in its character, than that of many others. He 
 was rather " drawn with the cords of a man and with the 
 bands of love," than driven by the thunders of the law; 
 though each had their appropriate influence in leading him 
 to the Saviour. Nor was the evidence of his change either 
 sudden or clear. Upon this point he remained for a long 
 time in a state of most distressing uncertainty. From the 
 consciousness of guilt he had been delivered ; but the wit- 
 ness of his adoption was necessary to complete his joy. 
 
 It was not till the 5th of June, 1815, that he was enabled 
 to rejoice in this long-sought blessing. On that day a 
 day ever memorable in his history as he was returning 
 from his private devotions, where he had been wrestling 
 with God for the witness of the Spirit, light broke in 
 upon his soul, and he could exclaim, " Abba, Father," with 
 an unwavering tongue. The power of the tempter was 
 broken ; his doubts were all gone. A divine assurance 
 the gift of the Holy Spirit reigned in his soul, and filled 
 him with unspeakable joy. His swelling heart, overflow- 
 ing with emotion, gave vent to its transports, while he 
 cried aloud, 
 
 "My God is reconciled; 
 
 His pard'ning voice I hear; 
 He owns me for his child ; 
 
 I can no longer fear : 
 With confidence I now draw nigh, 
 And Father, Abba, Father, cry." 
 
 But before obtaining this full assurance he had publicly 
 dedicated himself to Christ, by uniting with his Church, 
 and boldly advocating his cause. He joined the Methodist
 
 280 NOAH LEVING8. 
 
 Society as a probationer in 1813. The circumstances are 
 thus related by the venerable minister of God who seems 
 to have been the principal instrument of his conversion : 
 One day an apprentice-boy, in his blacksmith's garb, direct 
 from his labour, called upon him, and made application to 
 be received into the society. He appeared to be about 
 sixteen years of age ; was small in stature, bashful in his 
 address, and the circumstances of his introduction were 
 peculiar and somewhat disadvantageous. Yet there was 
 something so unassuming and so winning in his manner, so 
 sincere and so intelligent in his whole appearance and con- 
 versation, that a very favourable impression was made 
 upon the mind of the preacher, and he admitted him as a 
 probationer ; at the same time giving him encouragement 
 and counsel. On the following Wednesday night, at their 
 public prayer-meeting, when the leading members had 
 prayed, and it was nearly time to dismiss the congregation, 
 at the close of one of the prayers a youthful voice, whose 
 feminine tones were scarcely sufficient to fill the church, 
 was heard some two-thirds down the aisle, leading in 
 prayer. The prayer was feeling and appropriate, but short 
 so short as to be, at the longest, comprised within a 
 minute. As the preacher passed down the aisle, his black- 
 smith boy stood at the end of the seat, waiting to grasp his 
 hand with Christian affection. On the next Wednesday 
 evening, the silvery tones of the same youthful voice were 
 again heard, near the close of the meeting, leading in its 
 devotions. At this time he prayed with more fervour, 
 more compass of thought, and more self-possession ; and 
 yet his prayer was not more than a minute and a half. 
 At the close of the meeting, as the official brethren gath- 
 ered around the preacher, one inquired who that boy was ;
 
 NOAH LEVINGS. 281 
 
 another said his forwardness must be checked ; and a third, 
 that he must be stopped altogether. The preacher simply- 
 replied, "Now, brethren, let that boy alone, there is 
 something in him more than you are aware of;" and from 
 that time no one questioned the right of the young black- 
 smith boy to officiate in the public prayer-meetings. 
 
 Such were the public beginnings of one who in after 
 years became eminent as a minister of the gospel, distin- 
 guished alike for the ability and the success with which he 
 preached " Christ crucified." Even the minister of God 
 who had cherished him as a lovely and promising youth, 
 little realized the chain of causes he was setting in motion, 
 and the results that would grow out of them. He had 
 gathered a chance jewel from among the cinders of the 
 blacksmith's shop ; but little did he comprehend the rich- 
 ness of its value, or the transcendent lustre its polished 
 surface would assume. So often does God make "the 
 weak things" of earth praise him, and " the day of small 
 things" to become glorious before him. 
 
 It is remarkable that the two eminent servants of God, 
 who were mainly instrumental in his conversion, are still 
 in the effective ranks, enjoying a green old age, cheered, 
 loved, and honoured by their brethren who have grown up 
 around them. The next preacher stationed in Troy was 
 the Rev. Tobias Spicer. To the instructions of this emi- 
 nently sound and judicious minister, as well as to those 
 of the Rev. Messrs. Clark and Chichester, the young dis- 
 ciple was much indebted in his early Christian history. 
 He says (in his journal) that they seemed to labour less to 
 excite a momentary feeling, than to produce a solid and 
 permanent religious character; one that would be most 
 likely to withstand the shocks of temptation, and to
 
 282 NOAH LEVINGS. 
 
 accumulate strength through every period of its future 
 experience. Nor did he cease to acknowledge his obliga- 
 tions to these men of God till his dying day. Well had it 
 been for thousands of sincere and susceptible young men, 
 could they have been favoured with equally competent and 
 judicious advisers. While the youthful character is in this 
 transition state, the influences brought to bear upon it 
 make a deep and generally ineffaceable impression; and, 
 for weal or woe, will they continue to bring forth life-long 
 results. The proper training of young converts, and espec- 
 ially of young men in the Christian Church, is a work of 
 as high moment in the magnitude of its results as that of 
 the mere instrumentality of their conversion. For the 
 want of sound Christian nurture, thousands cease to be of 
 any account in the Church, just at a point when their 
 usefulness should be taking direction and acquiring char- 
 acter. 
 
 During the pastoral labours of Mr. Spicer in Troy, there 
 was a very extensive work of God in the Church ; so ex- 
 tensive that the membership were increased from a hun- 
 dred and seven to two hundred and fifty during the two 
 years. The church edifice was small, plain, and unimpos- 
 ing ; the membership were few in number, and poor in 
 worldly means not many rich, not many great, not many 
 noble were found among them. But they were devoted to 
 God, and loved one another ; and God put honour upon 
 them, making them to abound in fruitfulness and joy. 
 This revival, in an especial manner, awakened the zeal 
 and called out the talents of young Levings. He had been 
 converted at a time when no special revival was in prog- 
 ress ; and the awakening and conversion of such multi- 
 tudes seemed to fill him with astonishment and wonder,
 
 NOAH LEVING8. 283 
 
 while at the same time it fired his own heart anew. He 
 had already become an efficient teacher in the first Sab- 
 bath school established in Troy, and then sustained by the 
 different denominations of evangelical Christians. While 
 yet in his minority he was appointed a class-leader ; and 
 when, at the Conference of 1817, the Rev. S. Luckey suc- 
 ceeded Mr. Spicer in charge of the station, he gave him 
 license to exhort. On the 20th day of December follow- 
 ing, being then a few months over twenty-one, he was duly 
 licensed as a local preacher by the quarterly conference of 
 the station. 
 
 Up to this time he appears to have had no distinct idea 
 of entering the ministry. He had, indeed, an ardent desire 
 to do all he could for the glory of God and for the salva- 
 tion of men ; but, so high appeared to him to be the quali- 
 fications necessary for a Christian minister, and so small 
 and insignificant did his own appear to himself, that enter- 
 ing the sacred office seemed entirely out of the question. 
 His mind had been at ease under this view of the subject ; 
 but now it came up before him in a new and stronger light. 
 He was out of his apprenticeship ; he was also of age ; the 
 responsibility of determining his future course now de- 
 volved upon himself. He wished to do right ; he had an 
 ardent desire to do good ; he was wedded in his affections 
 to the Church of God; he groaned in spirit for the salva- 
 tion of a dying world. And yet the magnitude of the 
 work, the fearful and far-reaching nature of its responsi- 
 bilities, appalled him. After many struggles of mind, he 
 was at length led to the determination to follow the con- 
 victions of duty and the openings of Providence. Accord- 
 ingly, on the 7th of March, 1818, his license to preach was 
 renewed, and he was recommended to the New- York
 
 284 NOAH LEVINGS. 
 
 Annual Conference. The session of the Conference was 
 held in May following, in the city of New-York. He was 
 here received on trial and appointed to the Leyden Circuit, 
 having the Rev. Ibri Cannon for his senior preacher and 
 s uperintendent. 
 
 If it had cost him a struggle to decide upon entering the 
 ministry, he was now subject to a trial of a different char- 
 acter, but scarcely less painful to youthful sensibilities. 
 He had been appointed to a distant circuit* and must now 
 bid adieu to the home and the cherished friends of his 
 youth. And then the prospect before him was by no 
 means congenial to the feelings of a young man of a feeble 
 constitution and a timid nature. An extensive circuit, 
 embracing the roughest portions of Massachusetts, and 
 spreading out over the hills of Vermont giving promise 
 of long rides through cold and mountainous regions and 
 over bad roads, and also of much labour and but little 
 worldly reward was a prospect that might have dis- 
 heartened a mind of less nerve or a soul of weaker faith. 
 But he had put his hand to the gospel plough ; and he 
 could say, "None of these things move me." He left 
 home for his appointment the day after he received it. 
 After a ride of fifty miles on horseback, over roads ren- 
 dered difficult by the thawing and heaving of the frost, 
 having crossed the Green Mountains and descended into 
 the valley of the Deerfield River, in a spot encircled by 
 mountains covered with their ancient forests, he found 
 himself upon the borders of his circuit. Leyden Circuit, 
 in 1818, included all that tract of country from the Green 
 Mountains on the west to the Connecticut River on the 
 east, embracing portions of the counties of Bennington and 
 Windham, in Vermont, and of Franklin and Berkshire, in
 
 NOAH LEVINGS. 285 
 
 Massachusetts. Among the towns and villages in which 
 he and his colleague preached, were Readsboro', Whitting- 
 ham, Wilmington, Halifax, Guilford, Yernon, Brattleboro', 
 Marlboro', and Dummerston, in Yermont; and Leyden, 
 Bernardston, Northfield, Gill, Shelburne, Colerain, Charlo- 
 mont, Rowe, Monroe, and Florida, in Massachusetts. 
 Dummerston on the northern, and Shelbume on the south- 
 ern extremity of the circuit were some fifty miles apart. 
 Northfield, the eastern appointment, was on the east side 
 of the Connecticut River ; and Florida, the western limit, 
 was hid among the Green Mountains, near the western 
 border of the State. One round of the circuit required a 
 ride of not far from two hundred and fifty miles. To 
 traverse this region at all seasons of the year, and in all 
 kinds of weather, was no light undertaking. But to preach 
 and lead class three times upon the Sabbath, frequently 
 riding from five to ten miles between the afternoon and 
 evening appointments, and then, after long rides during the 
 day, to preach several evenings in each week, was a labour 
 that required a robust constitution and a determined spirit. 
 What, but the love of souls, could have constrained these 
 men of God to such sacrifices and such labours ? 
 
 The modification of the circuit system has been a natural 
 and necessary result of the growth and increase of Method- 
 ism. By this modification, the labours of the preachers, 
 so far as it regards long rides and frequent exposures, have 
 been much abridged ; without, however, abridging in the 
 least their opportunities of labouring to build up the king- 
 dom of Christ. Restricted as may now seem many of our 
 little stations, or "patches," as they have been sometimes 
 called by way of derision, when compared with the old 
 circuits, we doubt not but that the most laborious servant
 
 NOAH LEVINGS. 
 
 of God might find sufficient to do in them to employ his 
 whole time and consume his whole energy. The time 
 necessarily spent formerly in accomplishing the long rides 
 of the circuit, now rigidly devoted to earnest, faithful pas- 
 toral visitation, would not only furnish bodily exercise, but 
 also tell in its influence upon the spirituality and usefulness 
 of the minister. Nor should it be forgotten that the pres- 
 ent arrangement of our stations, as well as the increasing 
 intelligence of our people, requires an amount of exhaust- 
 ing intellectual labour utterly impracticable under a regime 
 like the old circuit system. Indeed, such a system ad- 
 mirably adapted as it is to a country sparsely settled, and 
 to the culture of weak societies widely scattered becomes 
 impracticable in a densely populated religious communion. 
 It is one of the glories of Methodism that in all its economy, 
 merely prudential, it possesses a flexibility that will ever 
 adapt it to its changing circumstances, and to the wants of 
 its growing communion. If, however, any one should be 
 unable to satisfy his longings for amplitude of space where- 
 in to exercise his powers, we advise him to emigrate to 
 some country where a sparser population is to be found ; 
 to decamp forthwith for the prairies of the "West, where 
 his powers may have full scope, while he skirts along the 
 vast range of the western borders of civilization. The 
 moon-struck wight, who now sighs for the good old days of 
 long-circuit riding, may be placed in the same category 
 with those censors, who, making war upon the fashions of 
 this degenerate age, would have us go back to the buck- 
 skin breeches and coon-skin caps worn by our ancestors, 
 when forests were to be levelled and fields cleared for the 
 habitations of men. 
 
 Upon the Leyden Circuit the preacher was well received :
 
 NOAH LEVINGS. 287 
 
 his piety and sincerity were so strongly marked that they 
 won the entire confidence of the people. There was also 
 a timidity in his manner, and an exquisite sensibility in 
 his character, which took strong hold upon their sympa- 
 thies. When standing in the pulpit he was often unable 
 to look his congregation in the face, so great was his timid- 
 ity ; but the earnestness of his zeal and the deep emotions 
 of his soul, often expressed by the tears that flowed plenti- 
 fully down over his face, found a response in the hearts of 
 his congregation. The growth of his personal piety and 
 the cultivation of his mind were objects of deep interest to 
 him. To promote the former, he watched, prayed, fasted, 
 and meditated ; he studied with devout attention the Holy 
 Scriptures, and read with deep interest the lives of holy 
 and devoted servants of God, that he might understand 
 their character, imitate their example, and be imbued with 
 their spirit. Of his desire to improve his mind, he gave 
 evidence by his devotion to study whenever he arrived at 
 one of those delightful homes for the itinerant scattered 
 here and there over the circuit, and where he rested a day 
 or two to recruit his exhausted powers for new fatigues. 
 Solid attainments in both piety and learning, he felt were 
 indispensable to him as a Christian minister. No amount 
 of knowledge or sprightliness of talent would, he knew, 
 answer as a substitute for sound, genuine piety. Learning, 
 unsanctified by religion, unwarmed by love, would be, like 
 the mountain iceberg, splendid and imposing in appearance, 
 but chilling and freezing in influence. But, on the other 
 hand, zeal, and even a well-intentioned piety, would not an- 
 swer as a substitute for a sound knowledge of divine things. 
 It was under the influence of such convictions as these, 
 that he was led to apply himself diligently to the cultiva-
 
 288 NOAH LEVINGS. 
 
 tion of both heart and intellect. And, no doubt, here 
 among the hills and mountains of Leyden, while preaching 
 to small and unlettered congregations, gathered for the 
 most part in private rooms and school-houses, it was that 
 he laid the foundation of that character which afterward 
 bore him up through a long and successful ministry in 
 many of the most responsible and important appointments 
 within the wide range of the New-York Conference. 
 Many young men have set out with as good promise and 
 as high hopes as the subject of our memoir; but, imagin- 
 ing themselves straitened and cramped in their genius by 
 small congregations and a rude field of labour, have flat- 
 tered themselves that they would put forth their energies 
 when assigned to more responsible and prominent posts. 
 Thus self-deceived, and lured into a species of mental dis- 
 sipation, before they were aware of it, their habits have 
 become formed and their mental character fixed; and 
 thenceforward, though the goal was often seen in the dis- 
 tance, and a spark of momentary ambition awakened, it 
 soon subsided, and their lives flowed on in one sluggish 
 and unvarying course. One of our most eminent divines 
 and eloquent preachers once said to me, that many of his 
 most finished and effective discourses were elaborated while 
 travelling among the hills of upper Pennsylvania, and were 
 first preached to congregations of ten or a dozen Germans 
 gathered into log school-houses. Those same discourses 
 have since been listened to with admiration by immense 
 audiences in several of our large cities. 
 
 The spring at length came, and the session of Conference 
 was drawing near. The young itinerant found it hard to 
 part with the people of his charge. They had greeted him 
 in their dwellings, and stayed up his hands in their congre-
 
 HOAH LEVINGS. 289 
 
 gations. When dispirited and care-worn they had cheered 
 and comforted him ; in sickness they had watched over 
 him and hailed with joy his returning health ; and together 
 had they shared the common sympathies and joys of the 
 people of God. He had suffered in his long rides and 
 fatiguing labours ; he had been drenched by the falling 
 rain ; he had been chilled by the piercing cold as he trav- 
 ersed the bleak hills of his circuit ; by night as well as by 
 day had he been in peril, as he threaded his path through 
 miry and toilsome ways. But the very scenes of his toils 
 and his trials had become endeared to him by the honour 
 God had placed upon him, and the favour he had given 
 him in the eyes of the people. His last round upon his 
 circuit was, no less to the people than to himself, an affect- 
 ing, weeping time. 
 
 On the 29th of April he re-crossed the Green Mountains ; 
 and on the 1st of May reached the city of Troy, which was 
 to be the seat of the Conference that year. His welcome 
 by his brethren was such as to assure him that he had not 
 lost his place in their affections. The next day, being Sun- 
 day, he preached to a crowded house, in demonstration of 
 the Spirit and with power. The Conference adjourned 
 on the 14th, and he received his appointment as junior 
 preacher on Pownal Circuit. It was but sixteen miles dis- 
 tant ; and the evening of the same day of his appointment 
 found him within the bounds of his charge. This was to 
 him a delightful year, spent among a kind and loving peo- 
 ple. He was still ardent in the prosecution of his studies 
 and earnest in the cultivation of his piety. During this 
 year he had deep and powerful convictions upon the sub- 
 ject of entire sanctification ; and frequent and protracted 
 were his struggles for the attainment of this blessing. Nor 
 
 19
 
 NOAH LEVING8. 
 
 were those struggles in vain ; though he failed, " because 
 of unbelief," to enter into that glorious rest, his piety be- 
 came more deep, solid, and ardent. 
 
 In 1820 he was ordained deacon by Bishop George, and 
 appointed to Montgomery Circuit. This year exceeded in 
 toils and hardships either of the former years of his itine- 
 rancy. His health became so enfeebled by labour and ex- 
 posure, that on his return to Troy in the spring his friends 
 were greatly alarmed, and all regarded him as already 
 marked for an early grave. Yet he received his appoint- 
 ment, determined, if he fell, to fall at his post. The ap- 
 pointment, Saratoga Circuit, proved highly favourable. 
 He recovered his health, and his labours on the circuit 
 were very acceptable and -useful. "While on Montgomery 
 Circuit he had been united in marriage to Miss Sarah 
 Clark, who, after sharing with him the varied experience 
 of an itinerant's life for nearly thirty years, is left in lonely 
 widowhood by his demise. 
 
 Near the close of his year on Saratoga Circuit, the pre- 
 siding elder of that district, the Rev. D. Ostrander, com- 
 municated to him that the bishop, at the ensuing Confer- 
 ence, purposed sending him to the northern part of 
 Vermont. This information he had left with the presid- 
 ing elder, directing him to communicate it just before the 
 Conference, so that he might have an opportunity to visit 
 his friends and make preparations for removing ; and prob- 
 ably, also, that his mind might be in some measure pre- 
 pared for a post involving much labour and privation. 
 The reflections of the young minister on the reception of 
 this by no means welcome intelligence, are worthy of being 
 preserved as illustrative of his character, and of the princi- 
 ples that actuated him in his work :
 
 NOAH LEVINGS. 291 
 
 " It is understood that preachers in that part of the work 
 fare rather poorly with regard to temporal things. This, 
 with some other considerations, has rendered it rather an 
 unwelcome lot to many. But I shall interpose no objec- 
 tion to going. For, 1. It is purely an episcopal appoint- 
 ment. 2. I am willing to take my share of the hard as 
 well as the pleasant appointments. 3. I am now young, 
 and have no family except a wife ; and we, being both 
 young and in good health, can go as well as not, at any 
 rate, better now than at any future period. 4. Having 
 thrown myself upon the providence of God, as a Methodist 
 travelling preacher, it would illy become me to forestall 
 that providence and choose for myself. 5. I wish at all 
 times to have the satisfaction of knowing that I am in the 
 order of God, and then I can go to him at all times with 
 confidence, for relief in trouble and for help in labour." 
 
 Accordingly, at the ensuing Conference having been 
 ordained elder he was sent to Middlebury, Vermont. 
 He commenced his ministry by discoursing from the text, 
 " We preach not ourselves, but Christ Jesus the Lord, and 
 ourselves your servants for Jesus' sake." And this text he 
 placed before himself as the rule or formula after which 
 his ministrations were to be modelled. The people re- 
 ceived him with joy, sustained his hands in the work, and 
 his labours were crowned with good results. The next 
 year he was stationed in Burlington. We find him, while 
 in these two appointments, still intent upon improving his 
 mind and heart. " I feel," he would exclaim, " the want 
 of more retirement for prayer and meditation, and for a 
 closer application to study. Nothing but a closer applica- 
 tion to study, accompanied with much prayer, will ever 
 burst the bands of ignorance and darkness from my mind.
 
 292 NOAH LEVINGS. 
 
 Nothing but this will enable me to fathom and unfold the 
 depths and the fulness of the divine word. Nothing but 
 this will make me 'a workman that needeth not to be 
 ashamed,' skilfully and successfully preaching the ' gospel 
 of the kingdom.' How much have I yet to learn of God, 
 of myself, of my duty, of my privileges, and of the best 
 manner of doing good ! O Lord, teach me by thy Holy 
 Spirit ; and help me to be diligent in all things." Such 
 were the aspirations of the youthful minister ! Such his 
 longings after God! Such his zeal to qualify himself to 
 sustain the high responsibilities of his ministry ! 
 
 Among the many books he read about this time, was the 
 Life of Napoleon. The history and character of the em- 
 peror started in his mind a problem which has no doubt 
 often troubled many a devout and sincere inquirer ; and 
 which can be solved only by a sense of the dimness of on* 
 spiritual vision and the gross sordidness of our nature, even 
 under the most favourable circumstances. When men are 
 ready to make such sacrifices, brave such dangers, endure 
 such labours, and ever manifest such sleepless, untiring zeal 
 for earthly good, the possession of which is so transitory, 
 and its enjoyment so imperfect, why is it that Christians, 
 professing to believe in all the solemn realities of eternity 
 the enduring bliss of heaven are so feeble and languid 
 in their efforts to secure an immortal crown? "Did we 
 but labour with as much diligence and zeal for the incor- 
 ruptible, as Napoleon did for the corruptible crown, what 
 victories over the world, the flesh, and the devil should 
 we achieve! How much good we should do, and how 
 much happiness we should enjoy!" 
 
 "While at Burlington he made frequent excursions into 
 the neighbouring towns and villages, preaching the gospel
 
 NOAH LEVINGS. 293 
 
 with varied success. He would often leave home with a 
 range of appointments for each evening running through 
 two weeks. In some of these appointments he would meet 
 with opposition, in others a hearty welcome. Sometimes 
 his preaching was in demonstration of the Spirit and with 
 great power, so that the breath of the Lord came down, 
 and, in a mighty gale, swept over the valley of dry bones. 
 These evangelical labours he prosecuted with even more 
 success during the second year of his labours in Burling- 
 ton ; and they resulted in the permanent establishment of 
 Methodism in several places. So fully had he imbibed the 
 itinerant spirit, that on his way to the Conference at Malta, 
 in the spring of 1825, he took a circuit through Middle- 
 bury, Sandy Hill, Glenn's Falls, Amsterdam, Funda's Bush, 
 and several other places, proclaiming a free, full, and pres- 
 ent salvation in every place. 
 
 His next two years were spent upon the Charlotte Circuit, 
 in Yermont. From this place he was removed, at the Con- 
 ference of 1827, to the city of New-York. This appoint- 
 ment was unsought by him. So far from it, when he 
 learned that such was the probable result, he ventured a 
 request to the bishop to appoint him to some other portion 
 of the work. And when the appointment had been made, 
 he came to the city with many misgivings and with much 
 fear. But he solaced himself with the reflection that the 
 appointment was not of his own seeking ; and, therefore, 
 should he fail, on that ground he would be free from cen- 
 sure. The city of New-York then comprised one circuit 
 with seven churches, and a membership of three thousand 
 two hundred and eighty-nine persons. The churches were 
 those now known as the John, Forsyth, Duane, Allen, 
 Bedford, (then Greenwich Village,) Seventh, (then Bowery
 
 '204: NOAH LEVINGS. 
 
 Village,) and Willet-street Churches. Six preachers were 
 stationed in the city. They circulated through the appoint- 
 ments in regular order, each preaching in the morning in 
 one church, in another in the afternoon, and in a third in 
 the evening ; thus completing the circuit in a little over 
 two weeks. 
 
 In this new field of labour the popular talent of Mr. 
 Levings found ample room for exercise, and abundant 
 stimulus to call it forth. His discourses were characterized 
 rather by brilliancy than depth of thought, by apt and 
 striking illustration rather than by strength of reasoning. 
 The tenacity of his memory and the fluency of his speech 
 were alike remarkable. He never wanted for words, and 
 his superintendent on the circuit, " representing his case " 
 before Conference, said, " Brother Levings was born with 
 words on his tongue." The tones of his voice were well 
 managed and pleasing; his gesture was appropriate and 
 exceedingly graceful ; his delivery was ardent, while at the 
 same time his whole manner was self-possessed. These 
 were precisely the qualities to render a man popular in 
 New- York. Accordingly his congregations were crowded 
 to excess. Numbers followed him from church to church, 
 unwittingly, perhaps, violating the proprieties of the Chris- 
 tian Sabbath and of the worship of God in order to enjoy 
 the eloquence of their favourite preacher. More than 
 twenty years have passed away since that period, and yet 
 I find many who still retain a vivid recollection of portions 
 of his discourses, and of the effects produced upon the con- 
 gregations by them. He has, during this period, been ac- 
 cused of catering to the religious enthusiasm of that class 
 of excitable persons, whose manifestations of piety are apt 
 to be more vociferous than practical. What foundation
 
 NOAH LEVINGS. 295 
 
 for this charge his preaching at that day, when youthful 
 enthusiasm was at its height, may have afforded, we will 
 not undertake to say ; or, indeed, how far his ardent zeal 
 and his own high state of religious enjoyment may have 
 superinduced these results, is a question we may not now 
 profitably discuss. The purity of his Christian and minis- 
 terial character none have ever doubted; nor have any 
 questioned but that the great ends of the gospel ministry 
 were accomplished through his labours. 
 
 The manner in which he felt the responsibilities of his 
 work, and the spirit that actuated him in its performance, 
 may be best seen in the private journal of his labours and 
 experience. In his record of September 7th, for this year, 
 he says : 
 
 "For some weeks past I have felt more than ever the 
 importance of the work in which I am engaged. I trust 
 that I am enabled to love God more than ever before. O 
 that my heart may be filled with supreme love to Him who 
 is my life and my salvation ! Blessed be the Lord God, 
 my heart seems more and more taken up in his work ! I 
 am far from believing that raptures are a sure evidence of 
 deep piety. It is a good remark, that shallow water ripples, 
 while that which is deep generally rolls on in silence and 
 tranquillity. If I have my will subdued, my passions gov- 
 erned, and my affections sanctified and set on things above, 
 then have I evidence of a deep and genuine work of grace. 
 O Lord, search my heart and know me ; see if there be 
 any wicked way within me, and lead me in the way ever- 
 lasting." 
 
 On another occasion, when he had completed his thirty- 
 first year, he enters into the following train of reflec- 
 tions :
 
 296 NOAH LEVING6. 
 
 " How swiftly do the years fly away ! How soon will 
 eternity be my everlasting home! How stands the ac- 
 count, let me inquire, between God and my soul ? Where- 
 in am I better than I was one year ago? Do I love God 
 more than I did then ? Have I a greater deadness to the 
 world, or a greater conformity to Christ ? Do I feel more 
 the importance of the work in which I am engaged ? I 
 have much reason for repentance upon all these points; 
 and yet in some respects I trust I am advancing in the 
 divine life. Some of these questions I believe I can an- 
 swer in the affirmative. But how slow my progress ! I 
 feel myself to be the weakest of the weak. O, for divine 
 grace to help me ! I have of late had some gracious inti- 
 mations of the divine willingness to make my heart His 
 constant home. O, when shall I experience all the fulness 
 of God?" 
 
 Thus do we find this servant of God, in the full tide of 
 his popularity, still yearning after holiness of heart ; still 
 panting for full redemption in the blood of Christ. Noth- 
 ing could seduce him from his allegiance to the Saviour ; 
 nothing could unsettle him in his determined reliance upon 
 Christ. 
 
 He had a buoyancy and elasticity of spirit that some- 
 times seemed to border upon lightness. This he felt to be 
 a sore temptation. He says : 
 
 " The Lord knows, and, to some extent, I know, that I 
 have many imperfections, both as a Christian and a minis- 
 ter. I am naturally prone to be unguarded in speech; 
 especially when in the company of Christians and ministers. 
 By this I sometimes inadvertently offend against the gene- 
 ration of God's children. This often wounds my heart and 
 wrings it with sorrow. May God forgive and help me,
 
 NOAH LEVINGS. 207 
 
 that I offend not in word ; for ' the same is a perfect man, 
 and able also to bridle the whole body.' " 
 
 We admire the watchfulness which thus led him to write 
 bitter things against himself. But we have never known 
 in him a breach of Christian courtesy to his brethren. 
 And though possessed of a lively imagination, fine collo- 
 quial powers, and an inexhaustible fund of anecdote, .mak- 
 ing him a most interesting social companion, yet we must 
 say, whatever may have been his faults in earlier life, that 
 we have always found this exuberance chastened by the 
 most sweet and lovely Christian spirit. The record of this 
 temptation in his journal shows, that while panting for 
 more holiness he did not cease to watch with a godly jeal- 
 ousy over himself. 
 
 During the fall of this year the Rev. Freeborn Garrett- 
 son sickened and died at the house of his friend, George 
 Suckley, in the city of New-York. During his sickness it 
 was the privilege of our brother to visit him, to be in- 
 structed by his counsel, and cheered by his resignation and 
 by the triumphs of his faith. Under date of September 
 17th he says : 
 
 " This morning I visited the venerable Freeborn Garrett- 
 son, who lies dangerously ill at the residence of George 
 Suckley, Esq. He is faint, yet pursuing ; and I trust will 
 make a good and glorious end, when called to lay down 
 his body and his charge. He said, ' I have given up my 
 wife and daughter ; my treasure is in heaven.' Then with 
 uplifted hands he exclaimed, ' I want to go home to Jesus. 
 There is nothing below worth looking upon.' And, ad- 
 dressing himself to me, he said, 'Keep straight forward.' 
 straight forward.' I then said, l Sir, you must feel at this 
 time something like Simeon of old, having lived to see the
 
 298 NOAH LEVIXGS. 
 
 salvation of God these thirty or forty years in the rise and 
 progress of Methodism in these United States.' But on my 
 expressing some fear lest we, who are sons in the gospel, 
 should suffer the work to decline from its original simplicity 
 and purity, he instantly replied, 'You will stand, and do 
 better than we have done.' " 
 
 Nine days later the good old patriarch departed to his 
 rest. The dying scene, as well as the character and history 
 of this old veteran of Methodism, seemed to make an in- 
 effaceable impression upon the mind of the young preacher; 
 and led him to long after the spirit of the old Methodist 
 preachers, and to desire to imitate them in the entireness 
 of their devotion and the abundance of their labours. 
 Like Elisha, he prayed that the mantle of the departing 
 man of God might fall upon him. 
 
 At the Conference of 1829, Mr. Levings was stationed in 
 the city of Brooklyn. During this year his family was 
 much afflicted with sickness; and one of his children, 
 " little Charles Wesley," was taken from him. His feel- 
 ings on the occasion are thus expressed : 
 
 " Shall we receive good and not also evil at the hand of 
 the Lord? 
 
 ' Thankful I take the cup from thee, 
 
 Prepared and mingled by thy skill; 
 Though bitter to the taste it be, 
 
 Powerful the wounded soul to heal !' " 
 
 He was returned a second year to Brooklyn, and through- 
 out the period of his stay laboured with efficiency and 
 success. During this second year he accompanied John 
 Garrison, Esq., on a pilgrimage to Salem, New- Jersey, to 
 erect a monument over the grave of that distinguished and 
 holy man of God, Benjamin Abbott. At the Conference 
 of 1831 he was elected a delegate to the General Confer-
 
 NOAH LEVING8. 290 
 
 ence, and appointed to New-Haven. During his second 
 year in New-Haven, the church in Fair Haven was erected 
 through his agency. Finding an opening there to do good, 
 he undertook to erect a small building for a prayer and 
 lecture room ; but the subscription soon became so large 
 that he felt warranted in the erection of a church. In this 
 enterprise, however, he was greatly afflicted by the opposi- 
 tion of some from whom he had looked for assistance and 
 encouragement. This not only wounded his feelings, but 
 in a measure crippled his energies. However, he went 
 forward in the name of the Lord; and, being nobly sus- 
 tained by one or two brethren, he carried the enterprise to 
 so favourable an issue, that when the church had been 
 completed, and was committed to a board of trustees, the 
 debt upon it amounted to but one hundred and ninety dol- 
 lars. Soon after, the society in that place was organized 
 into an independent station, and have continued to main- 
 tain themselves as such until the present day. 
 
 His success in New-Haven was not such as to afford him 
 much satisfaction ; and he regarded his labours there with 
 almost as much pain as pleasure. At their close, he was 
 led to review the cause of this want of success. This he 
 did with deep feeling and with much prayer. As his re- 
 flections may be applicable to other societies, and withal 
 are suggestive of important considerations, we insert them 
 in brief, premising that we have no reason to believe them 
 to be more applicable to that particular society at the pres- 
 ent day than to any other. The following he regarded as 
 the prominent causes of the want of success and of pros- 
 perity in the society : 
 
 "1. Want of greater zeal, piety, and faithfulness on the 
 part of the preacher.
 
 300 NOAH LEVINGS. 
 
 "2. Divisions and party-spirit among the members of 
 the Church. 
 
 " 3. "Want of union, brotherly love, and Christian for- 
 bearance among the official members. 
 
 " 4. Neglect of the leaders in visiting the members of 
 their respective classes. 
 
 " 5. Neglect of, or an irregular attention to, the prayer- 
 meetings by the official members. 
 
 " 6. Disaffection among some (very few, I trust) to the 
 institutions of the Church." 
 
 One of the evidences of this disaffection on the part of 
 certain persons, was the fact, that whatever was written 
 and published by disaffected persons abroad, would soon 
 find its way into their hands, and seem to find a ready 
 response from their hearts ; and by them be circulated 
 among other members of the Church with great industry. 
 Whatever assailed the Church seemed to be regarded by 
 them with more interest than that which was written for 
 its vindication. 
 
 These are great evils in a Church ; and, wherever they 
 exist to any extent, they furnish a powerful obstacle to its 
 religious prosperity. They will neutralize the most devoted 
 and self-sacrificing efforts of the Christian minister. He 
 may preach with " the tongues of men and of angels ;" but 
 the word, to a great extent, must remain fruitless. The 
 last cause mentioned might seem to indicate an undue and 
 selfish jealousy on the part of the preacher. But we are 
 bold to say, that whenever a restless dissatisfaction has 
 crept into a society or Church, its members themselves are 
 the main sufferers by it. Persons affected by this spirit, 
 well-intentioned and pious as they may be, see everything 
 in a wrong light. They may continue to adhere to the 

 
 KOAH LEVINGS. 
 
 Church ; but their feelings are not cordial ; their labours 
 are not hearty, nor yet in faith. The hands of the minister 
 and of the other members are weakened by them. Through 
 them the Church has no unity, no strength, and no success. 
 And then the very want of success becomes an occasion of 
 more bitter complaint ; and too often is regarded as con- 
 firmation strong of the justice of their prejudice and dis- 
 affection. Thus, as it is said of jealousy, the spirit they 
 possess creates the food upon which it feeds and by which 
 it is nourished. This is the natural result of disaffection in 
 a Church ; and sometimes it requires years of toil to repair 
 the damage wrought in a few months. Nor are those 
 societies few in number which have received shocks from 
 which they never recovered. 
 
 Mr. Levings took but little part in the deliberations of 
 the General Conference in 1832, being summoned home, 
 on account of the sickness of his wife, soon after its com- 
 mencement. The Troy Conference was this year organ- 
 ized, comprising the northern portion of the former New- 
 York Conference. To accommodate the work, it became 
 necessary to transfer him to this Conference the next year, 
 and he was appointed to Garrettson Station, Albany. At 
 first he yielded a reluctant assent to the transfer heeding 
 the saying, A prophet is not without honour, sa/oe in his 
 own country, and among his own Tcin ; but his reception 
 was so cordial among the people, and God opened his way 
 so graciously, that he soon felt the change to be in the order 
 of Divine Providence. 
 
 He had been absent from this region six years, during 
 which time he had filled three heavy and responsible ap- 
 pointments. His desire for mental improvement, and espe- 
 cially to enlarge the sphere of his theological knowledge,
 
 302 NOAH LEVING8. 
 
 continued unabated. Besides extended studies in the Evi- 
 dences of Kevealed Eeligion, and in Systematic Divinity, 
 he had given considerable attention to Greek and Hebrew. 
 But his progress in these latter studies was retarded by his 
 necessary attention to pastoral and ministerial duties. He 
 seemed to act upon the principle of Wesley : " Getting 
 knowledge is a good thing, but saving souls is a better." 
 Not that he would pervert the maxim into an apology for 
 the neglect of study ; but in all his studies he would not 
 forget that the grand object of them should be to make 
 him more skilful and more successful in winning souls to 
 Christ. And while he husbanded the fragments of his 
 time for the acquisition of knowledge, he did not forget 
 that the duties of the pastoral office had a paramount claim. 
 During this period also he had repeated calls to dedicate 
 churches, and to deliver missionary and Bible addresses. 
 In these efforts he uniformly acquitted himself as a work- 
 man that needed not to be ashamed. Two of his dedica- 
 tion sermons were published, and are very creditable speci- 
 mens of pulpit eloquence. 
 
 His labours in Albany were greatly blessed, and he re- 
 turned a net increase of one hundred and six members to 
 the next Conference. During the year he had also visited 
 various places without the bounds of his charge, preaching 
 the word of life with power and success. In 1834 he was 
 stationed in Troy : thus, after sixteen years' absence from 
 the society which raised him up, and from which he went 
 forth to preach the word of life, he was returned to them as 
 their pastor. In his weakness they had watched over him ; 
 they had counselled, encouraged, and prayed for him. 
 While yet a stripling they had sent him forth into the 
 vineyard of the Lord with their benedictions upon his head ;
 
 NOAH LEVING8. 303 
 
 and now, in the maturity of his strength, he came back to 
 repay their kindness, and to devote his energies to the 
 building of them up in the Lord. To the people, though 
 he had been absent so long, he seemed as one of them- 
 selves. They received him with joy, laboured with him 
 in harmony, and, at the end of his two years, were parted 
 from him with deep sorrow. He was a delegate to the 
 General Conference of 1836, held in Cincinnati, and was 
 distinguished no less by the amenity of his deportment, 
 than by his judicious and conservative course in regard to 
 the profoundly important and exciting subjects that came 
 before that body. 
 
 At the ensuing Annual Conference he was stationed in 
 Schenectady. The society here had just erected a new 
 and beautiful church, and Methodism was assuming a 
 position and an importance in the place that it had not 
 previously had. Accordingly, in entering upon his charge, 
 he felt that a great responsibility rested upon him. The 
 character of Methodism in the place was to receive a new 
 stamp, and the work of God a new impulse ; its altered 
 and improving circumstances required the development 
 and right direction of new elements of moral power. 
 Entering upon his work with these views and feelings, he 
 prosecuted it with unwearied diligence and with great suc- 
 cess. The congregation was greatly increased in numbers, 
 and also improved in character. The membership of the 
 Church rose from one hundred and ninety-one to three 
 hundred and fifteen ; and to his services Methodism is not 
 a little indebted for its character and standing even at the 
 present day. 
 
 During the two years spent in this place he dedicated 
 seven churches, one of which was the Seventh-street Church
 
 NOAH LEVINGS. 
 
 in New-York city. He also delivered a great number of 
 special sermons, as well as missionary, Bible, and temper- 
 ance addresses. The performance of so much labour 
 abroad, while at the same time his flock were not neg- 
 lected at home, shows that he was a man of untiring in- 
 dustry as well as of great activity. In the spring of 1837 
 he was called to dedicate a church in Hinesburgh, Ver- 
 mont, under very interesting circumstances. Eleven years 
 before, while on the Charlotte Circuit, he had formed a 
 small society in that place ; a weak and sickly plant, he 
 hedged it around, and fostered it by his labours and his 
 prayers, yet doubtful of its existence and growth. But, 
 watered from on high, it had taken root, grown up, and 
 become a vigorous tree. The little society had now 
 erected a house in which to worship God; and he, who 
 had been the apostle of God's grace to their souls, was 
 called to perform the solemn service of consecration. The 
 recollections of former seasons and of former toils were 
 vividly awakened in his mind by this visit. Greatly did 
 he rejoice to find that the bread cast abroad upon the 
 waters had been gathered after many days, and that his 
 work had not been in vain in the Lord. 
 
 While in Schenectady, Mr. Levings had the good fortune 
 to become personally acquainted with Dr. Nbtt, President 
 of Union College. In him he found a kind friend, and a 
 judicious, able counsellor ; and not unfrequently did the 
 doctor assist him in his work. At the invitation of the 
 president, Mr. Levings preached to the students in the col- 
 lege chapel, and his discourse was well received and highly 
 spoken of. Indeed, so favourable was the impression made, 
 that, subsequently, while stationed in Albany, he was in- 
 vited to perform a similar service. The estimate of his
 
 NOAH LEVING8. 305 
 
 talents and acquirements formed by Dr. Nott, was after- 
 ward expressed in a very significant manner ; as, on his 
 recommendation, the college over which he presided con- 
 ferred on Mr. Levings the degree of Doctor of Divinity. 
 
 For some cause or other, some of the society in Schenec- 
 tady were very much opposed to the preacher appointed 
 by the Conference to succeed him. Seeing only evil to the 
 society, as well as to the preacher, in this opposition, his 
 generous heart impelled him to throw himself between the 
 people and preacher, and his fertile mind readily found a 
 way to do it effectually. He reached home on Saturday, 
 and, while the tones of discontent and dissatisfaction were 
 heard all around him, he entered the pulpit the next day, 
 (the preacher not having arrived,) and preached in the 
 morning from: "But his citizens hated him, and sent a 
 message after him, saying, We will not have this man to 
 reign over us." Luke xix, 14. In the afternoon he took for 
 his text : " Who hath believed our report ? and to whom 
 is the arm of the Lord revealed ?" Isa. liii, 1. Those who 
 have marked the fertility of his mind, the facility with 
 which he adapted himself to circumstances, can well con- 
 ceive how these two subjects were employed on this occa- 
 sion. Suffice it to say, no murmur of discontent was after- 
 ward heard. The preacher was well received, laboured in 
 harmony with the people, and the result of his first year's 
 labour was a net increase of seventy-five members ; and a 
 year later the same society reported to the Conference a 
 membership of four hundred and fifty, showing a net in- 
 crease of one hundred and thirty-five in two years. How 
 much better for the society than to run upon the rock on 
 which so many societies have literally " split !" In the re- 
 jection of a minister, it is rarely the case that he is the 
 
 20
 
 306 NOAH LEVINGS. 
 
 only sufferer ; often divisions and heart-burnings grow out 
 of it, distrust is engendered, and years elapse before the 
 Church recovers from the self-inflicted evil. "We say " self- 
 inflicted," because we have found that these objections 
 often, if not generally, arise from unfounded prejudices or 
 false views ; and, at best, a violent remedy will almost in- 
 variably prove to be a worse evil than that which it seeks 
 to cure. 
 
 At the Conference of 1838 Mr. Levings was- appointed 
 presiding elder of Troy District. At the ensuing Confer- 
 ence, however, he was removed from the district, being 
 succeeded by the Rev. T. Spicer, and appointed to the 
 North Second-street charge in the city of Troy. On an- 
 nouncing the change to the Conference, the bishop paused 
 in reading the appointments, and stated that he had not 
 made this change, 1st. Because brother Levings had re- 
 quested it ; for he had not. 2d. Nor because he con- 
 sidered him incompetent to the charge of the district. 
 3d. Nor because he had been unfaithful in discharging the 
 duties of the district ; for in both these respects he had the 
 fullest satisfaction from both preachers and people on the 
 district. 4th. But the change was made because brother 
 Levings was wanted for another field of labour. This 
 change brought him again into the midst of a people to 
 whom he was strongly attached, and by whom he was 
 greatly beloved. Not only were they strongly devoted to 
 him, but they fulfilled the divine injunction: "Love one 
 another." They were united and faithful ; and the year 
 was one of signal blessings the return made to Confer- 
 ence showing a net increase of one hundred and twenty 
 members. 
 
 From this station he was transferred, at the Conference
 
 NOAH LEVINGS. 3U7 
 
 of 1840, to Division-street, Albany, where he spent the two 
 succeeding years. During the summer of this first year he 
 was greatly afflicted with the loss of a much-loved daugh- 
 ter. She died after an illness of only a few days, aged a 
 little over five years. He had lost other children, but this 
 was emphatically the child of his heart ; and to part witli 
 her, he says, " was one of the severest trials of his life." 
 For some months previous to her death, she had frequently 
 spoken of dying and going to be with her Saviour, and with 
 her little twin sister who had died when but a little more 
 than a year old. She often sang, with apparently deep 
 feeling, the verse commencing, 
 
 "What is this that steals upon my frame ? 
 Is it death, is it death ?" 
 
 Thus exhibiting a maturity of intellect and of faith, uncom- 
 mon at so early an age, the little sufferer passed sweetly 
 away to her rest. From very childhood she had been the 
 companion and friend of her father, an angel of love hover- 
 ing around him, a sunbeam from heaven shining upon his 
 path. Painful was the visitation, deeply was he chastened ; 
 but salutary did he feel the discipline to be. 
 
 From Albany he was removed to Troy, and again sta- 
 tioned in the State-street Church. At the close of this 
 year, it was generally desired by the preachers, and also 
 by many of the people, that Mr. Levings should again be 
 returned to the district. To this, however, he had insuper- 
 able objections, founded not upon considerations of personal 
 expediency, but upon principle. This, combined with other 
 circumstances, induced him to ask a transfer to the New- 
 York Conference, which request was granted, and he was 
 again appointed to New- York city, to labour in the Yestry-
 
 308 NOAH LEVINGS. 
 
 street charge. The cordial welcome he received on his first 
 arrival, and the tokens of continued affection from his peo- 
 ple, were the source of peculiar satisfaction to him, and 
 greatly encouraged him in his work. 
 
 At the General Conference of 1844, the Rev. E. S. Janes, 
 who for several years had filled, with distinguished ability, 
 the office of Financial Secretary of the American Bible 
 Society, was elected a bishop in the Methodist Episcopal 
 Church. In the June following, Dr. Levings was elected 
 to the office made vacant by Mr. Janes's resignation. The 
 Church with whom he had been labouring but one year 
 being strongly attached to him, and quite unwilling to give 
 him up, he was continued in the charge another year. He 
 had, therefore, during the year to perform, as best he could, 
 the duties both of his pastoral work and his secretaryship. 
 It was a year of great labour. A man of less activity and 
 endurance, or of less flexible mind, would have found 
 himself inadequate to the task. In addition to his home 
 labours, he visited, during the year, four or five Annual 
 Conferences, presenting before them the claims of the Bible 
 cause; and delivered over thirty Bible addresses before 
 various societies in different parts of the country. Not- 
 withstanding these extra efforts, he continued to labour 
 with great acceptability and success in his pastoral charge ; 
 and when the term of his service closed in Yestry-street, 
 he made a grateful record of God's mercy in sustaining 
 him, and in giving him favour among the people, and suc- 
 cess in his ministry. 
 
 Being now released from his charge, he devoted himself 
 entirely to the duties of his office, and to the interests of the 
 American Bible Society. Of his travels and labours for 
 three succeeding years we have no authentic and definite
 
 NOAH LEVINGS. 309 
 
 account, aside from the minute of the places, times, and sub- 
 jects of his discourses. No entry was made in his diary 
 subsequently to the closing of his pastoral relation with the 
 Yestry-street people. It is, however, generally known that 
 he devoted himself with unceasing assiduity to promote the 
 interests of the Bible cause. He performed long and toil- 
 some journeys, visiting almost every section of the country, 
 and presenting the claims of the society before ecclesiastical 
 bodies, and addressing numerous local auxiliaries. At the 
 same time also a burden of correspondence, relating to local 
 agencies and the financial operations of the society, rested 
 upon him. 
 
 During the fall of 1847, while on an extensive tour 
 through the Western and South-western States, he con- 
 tracted a dysentery from the use of the water on the west- 
 ern rivers. He reached home very much enfeebled in 
 health, and for two or three months was unable to resume 
 his labours. Indeed, for the most of that time he was con- 
 fined to his house and bed ; and, during some part of it, it 
 was doubtful whether he would ever be restored again to 
 health. God, however, graciously raised him up ; and he 
 was again permitted to go forth to labour in his Master's 
 vineyard. During this sickness, the writer of this sketch 
 repeatedly visited him. The seasons of conversation and 
 of prayer enjoyed at this time will long be remembered. 
 He possessed the same buoyancy of spirit and sprightliness 
 that ever characterized him ; nor had his fund of amusing 
 and instructive anecdote failed. He was indeed himself ; 
 but he exhibited a maturity of faith and a depth of piety 
 that seemed to augur a speedy termination of his earthly 
 pilgrimage. His constitution never recovered fully its 
 former vigour ; but he was able still to discharge the duties
 
 310 NOAH LEVINGS. 
 
 of his office with efficiency through the spring and summer 
 of 1848. 
 
 In the fall of that year the interests of the Bible Society 
 demanded of him another tour through the South-western 
 States. He left home with much reluctance, and under 
 great depression of spirits, having, and expressing, a deep 
 presentiment of evil. Yet with his usual vigour he prose- 
 cuted his work ; during the months of October and No- 
 vember he travelled nearly four thousand miles, visiting 
 the Tennessee, Memphis, and Mississippi Conferences, 
 preaching eighteen sermons, and delivering nine addresses. 
 He was subject to much inconvenience on some parts of 
 his route, owing to the rainy weather and the bad condition 
 of the roads. On one route he spent three days and three 
 nights in a stage, travelling over roads almost impassable. 
 The last night two of the wheels sunk up to the hub in the 
 mire, and the coach was nearly overturned. There were 
 nine grown persons and two children inside, who were 
 obliged to get out and stand upon the ground, while the 
 rain was pouring down upon them, till the driver had un- 
 harnessed one of the horses and ridden half a mile to obtain 
 a gang of negroes to pry up the carriage. This occupied 
 nearly two hours. Under such exposures his health began 
 to fail during the latter part of November. But he perse- 
 vered in his mission till the 24th of December, when he 
 preached in the Presbyterian Church in Natchez. This 
 was his last public discourse. 
 
 On the succeeding day he wrote a letter to his family in 
 New-York. This letter is full of tenderness and affection. 
 He tells them that he felt it would be wrong longer to with- 
 hold from them the fact that he was in a very feeble state 
 of health. In addition to other diseases which had hung
 
 NOAH LEV INGS. 311 
 
 about him, he had been subject to several severe attacks 
 of asthma, involving sympathetically, if not organically, 
 the action of the heart. His nightly rest was broken and 
 disturbed, and he was reduced to a great degree of bodily 
 weakness. He had purposed visiting the Louisiana Con- 
 ference, but his health would permit him to proceed no 
 farther. He now only thought of reaching his home, and 
 had many misgivings whether he should ever accomplish 
 that. The most expeditious and safe route homeward was 
 by the way of the Mississippi and Ohio Rivers ; and even 
 this route was not at this time without its difficulties. The 
 cholera was raging in New-Orleans with great violence, and 
 every boat that came up numbered a catalogue of victims 
 on the passage. Those who died by day were secretly car- 
 ried on shore in the night, and roughly entombed in the 
 bank of the river. Nor could the sick and dying expect 
 much attention or care ; and, indeed, the cold and damp 
 state-rooms of the boats furnished but poor accommoda- 
 tions for the sick in any case. 
 
 With him, however, there seemed no alternative ; and 
 on the 29th of December he took passage on the steamboat 
 Memphis for Cincinnati. The boat was six days on her 
 passage ; she was crowded with passengers, and many 
 were sick and dying with the cholera. His sufferings on 
 the voyage were greatly alleviated, and his mind comforted, 
 by the kind attentions of a Christian brother, Mr. Elisha 
 Payne, of Madison, Indiana. He also received medical 
 advice and assistance from a Dr. Sale, who happened to be 
 a passenger on the boat. It was indeed a gloomy passage, 
 and he frequently expressed the apprehension that he would 
 never live to reach his home. This was an object dear to 
 his heart ; and his highest earthly wish seemed to be that
 
 NOAH LEVINGS. 
 
 he might die in the bosom of his family. However, he 
 was calm and resigned; and, for the most part, retained 
 his accustomed cheerfulness and buoyancy of spirit. 
 
 At length he reached Cincinnati ; and, at the house of 
 his devoted friends, brother and sister Burton, he found a 
 welcome home. Ten years before he had been their pastor 
 in the east ; he had united them in the sacred bonds of 
 matrimony ; he had been their friend and counsellor in 
 times of affliction and trial. Their hearts, as well as their 
 house, were now open to receive him. Like ministering 
 angels they hovered around him in his last earthly afflic- 
 tion. Sweet and yet mournful was the task of our brother 
 and sister ; they performed the last sad offices due to de- 
 parting worth ; they ministered to his last earthly want, 
 listened with inexpressible sorrow to his last farewell, 
 closed his dying eyes, and forsook him not till his dust had 
 been gathered to its kindred dust. O, there are green 
 spots upon our earth, where human affection and sympathy 
 shine forth with heavenly lustre ! Priceless is their value ! 
 It is grateful to record them. The Rev. Mr. Strickland, 
 one of the agents of the American Bible Society, was also 
 with him night and day ; and a numerous circle of friends 
 rejoiced in the opportunity to minister to him in his 
 affliction. 
 
 His sufferings were great, but in the midst of them all 
 he enjoyed perfect peace ; and signal was his triumph, 
 through grace, in the last conflict. "When he found that 
 the great object of earthly desire to see his family once 
 more in the flesh and to die among his kindred could not 
 be realized, he only exclaimed, "The will of the Lord be 
 done." On the Sabbath evening preceding his death, 
 being asked if he realized strong faith in Christ, he replied,
 
 NOAH LEVING8. 813 
 
 " O yes, the Lord Jesus Christ is the strength of my heart, 
 and my portion forever. I die in the faith of the gospel." 
 On one occasion, when he was sitting up, brother Burton 
 placed a large Bible to support his head, that he might 
 breathe more easily. Observing the letters upon the back, 
 he exclaimed, "Thou blessed book, lamp to my feet and 
 light to my path ; thou guide of my youth, directory of my 
 manhood, and support of my declining years ; how cheer- 
 less would this world be, were it not for thy divine revela- 
 tions and Christian experience !" After his will had been 
 signed, he said, " Thank God, one foot is in Jordan, and I 
 shall soon cross over." When Bishop Morris reached the 
 city, and hastened to the bedside of his dying friend, he 
 said to him, " Thank God that I am permitted to see your 
 face once more. I am not able to converse much, but I 
 can still say, ' Glory to God.' " The bishop inquired if he 
 had any message to send to his brethren of the New- York 
 Conference. "Tell them," said he, "I die in Christ ; I die 
 in the hope of the gospel. Tell them I have a firm, un- 
 shaken confidence in the atoning sacrifice of our Lord 
 Jesus Christ, as the foundation, and only foundation, of 
 my hope of eternal life ; and, relying upon that foundation, 
 all before me is light, and joyful, and glorious." In him 
 was most gloriously realized the sentiment of the great 
 apostle : To live is Christ, Imt to die is gain. With a firm 
 faith in his Redeemer, and an unclouded view of heaven, 
 he passed in peace and triumph to his everlasting reward. 
 The last words he uttered were on the occasion of Mr. 
 Burton's children being presented to receive his dying 
 blessing. Taking each by the hand, he said, " God bless 
 the dear children, and make them holy." 
 
 Between nine and ten o'clock on the evening of the 9th
 
 314: NOAH LEVINGS. 
 
 of January, surrounded by sympathizing, praying Christian 
 friends, he expired. On the following Thursday his funeral 
 was attended by a large concourse of people, embracing 
 many of the clergy in Cincinnati and its vicinity. And, 
 after an impressive sermon by Bishop Morris, his remains 
 were deposited in the city cemetery ; but subsequently re- 
 moved to the Wesleyan Cemetery, where the Young Men's 
 Bible Society of Cincinnati propose to erect a suitable 
 monument to his memory. Subsequently, a funeral dis- 
 course was delivered by Bishop Morris before the New- 
 York Conference, and was requested for publication by 
 that body. The preachers' meetings in Cincinnati and 
 New-York, the Board of Managers of the Young Men's 
 Bible Society of Cincinnati, and also that of the American 
 Bible Society, and various other associations, passed reso- 
 lutions expressive of their high estimate of his character 
 and worth. 
 
 Few men have been more generally beloved within the 
 sphere of their labours, and few have been more sincerely 
 lamented in their death, than Dr. Levings. His manner 
 was affable and winning ; his heart was warm and gener- 
 ous ; his mind, naturally fertile and lively, and stored with 
 an inexhaustible fund of anecdote, coupled with a reten- 
 tive and ready memory, a brilliant imagination, a striking 
 aptness at comparison, and fine colloquial powers, made 
 him a most delightful companion in social life. If these 
 peculiarities of character, strongly marked in him, some- 
 times made him appear more light and jocose than was 
 befitting the ministerial office, and especially to age and 
 superior standing in it, there were at least redeeming con- 
 siderations to be found in the artlessness and sincerity of 
 his piety, and the sacred veneration in which he ever held
 
 NOAH I.EVINGS. 315 
 
 divine things. He was an almost universal favourite 
 among his brethren in the ministry. And few ministers 
 have left behind them, in the congregations where they 
 have ministered, a larger number of strongly attached 
 personal friends. 
 
 The cast of his mind, it would be inferred from what has 
 already been said, was not that which grapples with pro- 
 found truths and evolves mighty thoughts ; but rather that 
 which would take the popular and practical view of things. 
 His reasonings generally were of this tone and character ; 
 and yet his sermons were well digested, and presented clear 
 and forcible exhibitions of divine truth. His performances 
 were almost exclusively extemporaneous ; he rarely com- 
 mitted more than a very brief skeleton to paper. His 
 mind, however, was a storehouse of facts and illustrations, 
 and also clear in its perceptions) and tenacious in its reten- 
 tion of truth. His tongue was like the " pen of a ready 
 writer;" and he was never at a loss for appropriate lan- 
 guage in which to give utterance to his thoughts. He 
 combined, in an unusual degree, close argumentation with 
 apt and striking illustration and an animated and attractive 
 delivery. His personal appearance was such as would 
 naturally make a very good impression, his manner was 
 self-possessed, the intonations of his voice well managed, 
 and his gesture easy and appropriate. His preaching ex- 
 hibited none of those overwhelming strokes of eloquence 
 which mark the oratory of some distinguished men ; but, 
 when his energies were aroused and called into action, his 
 discourses everywhere sparkled with the richest gems. 
 Indeed, few could hear him at any time without being 
 pleased, instructed, and even powerfully impressed. But 
 the highest honour placed upon his ministry was the emi-
 
 316 NOAH LEVINGS. 
 
 nent success with which God crowned it, in making him the 
 instrument of turning multitudes from darkness to light, 
 and from the power of sin to the service of God. 
 
 Such was the man whose history and character are but 
 inadequately sketched in this paper. He has now ceased 
 from his labours and gone to his reward. Multitudes had 
 been blessed by his ministry ; some of whom dear in his 
 memory had before him entered into rest. Did they not 
 welcome him to the partnership of their joys on high ? He 
 has gone to rejoin them, gone to behold again the loved 
 Martha Ann, " child of his heart," whose sweet spirit 
 passed away with the summer flowers of 1840. He died 
 as the Christian minister might wish to die mature in the 
 graces of the Spirit, fresh from the battle-fields of the cross. 
 Those who had been blessed by his ministry accompanied 
 him with prayers and tears down to the brink of Jordan ; 
 those who had gone before, joyfully welcomed him over. 
 Thus, in the maturity of his strength and in the height of 
 his usefulness, a brother has been called away, a standard- 
 bearer in Israel has fallen. 
 
 He was licensed to preach on the 20th day of December, 
 1817, and died on the 9th of January, 1849 ; consequently, 
 he sustained the ministerial office a little more than thirty 
 years. During that time he officiated in eighteen differ- 
 ent appointments ; preached nearly four thousand sermons ; 
 dedicated thirty-eight churches ; delivered sixty-five miscel- 
 laneous addresses ; and, finally, travelled thirty-six thousand 
 five hundred and thirty-nine miles, and delivered two hun- 
 dred and seventy-three addresses in behalf of the American 
 Bible Society. But the best of all was, his life and ministry 
 were crowned with the divine blessings, and his dying mo- 
 ments with the divine glory.
 
 
 sf*
 
 lin. 
 
 AT home in his father's house, sick, feverish, and restless, 
 lies the successful candidate for the highest honour of his 
 Alma Mater. Esteemed by his instructors, beloved by his 
 associates, and envied, he has won the prize fairly and hon- 
 estly. No one questions the righteousness of the verdict 
 which assigns the valedictory to STEPHEN OLIN. But it is 
 not for him, and another receives the plaudits of the assem- 
 bled multitude, while he lies there taking the first slow 
 draught from the bitter cup of disappointment, pressed so 
 frequently to his lips in after years. 
 
 With an iron constitution, and an indomitable strength 
 of will, he had disregarded the admonitions of those who 
 watched over him, allowed himself little respite from his 
 books, and, grudgingly, very short seasons of relaxation. 
 Thus he reached the object of his ambition, while sowing 
 insensibly the seeds of suffering. In his stalwart frame 
 they have already taken deep root, and are not to be erad- 
 icated until that corruptible shall have put on incorruption. 
 
 One more warning for the youthful student an addi- 
 tional beacon to be crowded in upon the highway of litera- 
 ture! It might have been otherwise? Certainly. There 
 are maxims in the theory of education which, observed, 
 conduce to the health of the body, and to physical strength,
 
 318 STEPHEN OLIN. 
 
 no less certainly than their neglect tends to disease, and 
 pain, and a premature grave. We can imagine him to 
 have secured his object without the loss of health ; to have 
 poured forth in that coveted valedictory a flood of eloquence 
 which should very nearly have satisfied himself, and more 
 than justified the expectations of those who even then pre- 
 dicted for him a large share of political honours and emol- 
 uments. And what then? Truly there is no answer to that 
 question. In any event, and under any circumstances, 
 Stephen Olin would have been a great man ; and it is pos- 
 sible that from that hour, wafted by the breath of popular 
 applause, and intoxicated with its incense, his career might 
 have been onward, until he had almost gratified that bound- 
 less ambition which, in his own words, "would have bar- 
 tered a seat in heaven for a seat in Congress." 
 
 And lie might have had a seat in Congress. In the lan- 
 guage of one of his classmates, " Had he been blessed with 
 health, few men would have been his superiors. His name 
 would have added new lustre to the splendid catalogue of 
 Edwards, Marshall, Dwight, Calhoun, and Webster, and 
 would have obtained a high place in the scroll of fame." 
 But Christ had more important work for the ambitious 
 student, and in store for him something better and more 
 glorious than his own hopes had pictured, or his admiring 
 friends foretold. He was even then showing him how great 
 things he must suffer for His name's sake ; giving him 
 there upon his sick couch to feel the vanity of his aspira- 
 tions, his first lesson in that science which estimates all 
 things at their true value, and by diligence in which the 
 names of its disciples are written, not on the scroll of fame, 
 but " high up " in the book of life. 
 
 At his entrance upon his collegiate course he was seep-
 
 STEPHEN OLIN. 81!) 
 
 tical on the subject of Christianity, and so he continued 
 until near its close. He was not indeed an open and avowed 
 infidel, nor was he guilty of gross immoralities ; but he was 
 sarcastic and keenly witty on the subject of experimental 
 religion. He loved to laugh at the imperfections of pro- 
 fessing Christians. His laughter was contagious, his face- 
 tiousness irresistible ; and it was remarked that his was the 
 only class that passed through college without the conver- 
 sion of some one of its members. The books which he read, 
 either as a prescribed duty, or for mental relaxation, tended 
 to confirm his scepticism, until, in his senior year, the 
 graceful rhetoric of Paley, and the stern logic of Butler, 
 took captive his powerful intellect, and compelled him to 
 admit the truth of revealed religion. But his heart was 
 unaffected. " I knew," says he, " that I could not prove, 
 and that nobody had proved the Bible false, or that there 
 is no hell ; but I had deliberately made up my mind that 
 I never would trouble myself about it." 
 
 And but for that sickness, in all human probability, his 
 mind would have continued thus " made up." There, he 
 not only had leisure for reflection, but was compelled to 
 think. His plans for the future were all deranged; and, 
 although he did not share in the fears of those who watched 
 around him that he was about to die, yet were his thoughts 
 turned upon the grave, and the unknown realms beyond it. 
 At length the crisis was passed ; and with health somewhat 
 restored, but with a troubled spirit, in opposition to the 
 wishes of his father he left his home, journeyed toward a 
 more genial clime, and took charge of a newly-established 
 seminary in a sparse settlement in the interior of South 
 Carolina. 
 
 ' Does the new teacher open the school with prayer ?"
 
 320 STEPHEN OLIN. 
 
 A startling question. It was asked by the parent of one 
 of his pupils, at a house where the teacher was boarding, 
 and overheard by him as he sat reading in an adjoining 
 room. To open the school with prayer! He had not 
 thought of that as a part of the duty expected from him. 
 How could he pray ? Owing to a peculiar theory of his 
 mother's, he had never been taught to repeat eve those 
 blessed words prescribed by the Lord Jesus. She was a 
 woman of unquestioned piety, and a member of a Christian 
 Church ; but her creed taught that none but the regenerated 
 might approach the throne of grace. How could he pray? 
 And yet he felt the expectation to be reasonable and right 
 on the part of those who had committed to his guardianship 
 the destiny of their little ones. After a severe struggle be- 
 tween duty and inclination, he resolved to meet their wishes. 
 He composed and committed to memory a form of words 
 which, after reading a chapter from the Bible, he repeated, 
 day after day, in the hearing of his scholars. 
 
 A more direct and more disquieting question troubled 
 him soon afterward. He was at a little prayer-meeting in 
 the house of a Methodist local minister, where, after others 
 had engaged in calling upon God, it was asked in a gentle 
 whisper, " Will the teacher please to pray with us ?" Had 
 a thunderbolt fallen at his feet it might have startled him 
 more, but would not have affected him so powerfully, nor 
 made so deep and lasting an impression. It was like the 
 still small voice heard by the prophet, when the wind, and 
 the earthquake, and the fire had passed away, "What 
 doest thou here, Elijah?" And he, fresh from the land of 
 the pilgrims, the educated Kew-Englander who had come 
 among this simple-hearted people to train the minds of 
 the young immortals committed trustingly to his charge,
 
 STEPHEN OLIN. 321 
 
 with his one stale stereotyped form of words, what did he 
 there there among that little company, met in the great 
 Master's name to pray? 
 
 Of course he declined the invitation ; but the still small 
 voice followed him, and he had no rest day nor night. 
 The arrows of the Almighty were within him, the poison 
 whereof drank up his spirit. For weeks he continued in 
 agony bordering upon despair. Under the shade of a large 
 tree, which is still pointed out as Olin's Bethel, the strong 
 man humbled himself as a little child, and day after day 
 with cries and tears wrestled with the God of Jacob, and 
 HE blest him there. The transition was instantaneous, like 
 the flashing glory of the noon-day sun upon the darkness of 
 midnight. Old things had passed away behold, all things 
 had become new. 
 
 The following is his own simple and touching statement, 
 as given in a letter to one of his friends : 
 
 " I used to begin each day with prayer in my school ; 
 and as this was an exercise to which I was pretty much 
 unaccustomed, I often practised in the woods, to acquire a 
 propriety of tone and expression. After a little time, I 
 came to believe myself as sincere as anybody else ; I even 
 professed myself a Christian. During two or three months 
 of this sort of life, every day increased my stupidity and 
 my guilt. All at once, without any visible means, my 
 callous heart was smitten with such compunction and 
 agony as I cannot describe. I felt the hand of God upon 
 me. Sometimes in despair, and always wretched, my 
 nights were passed in tears and prayers. I dared not dis- 
 continue my religious exercises in school, and in them my 
 feelings often rose too high to be concealed. Yet my pride, 
 and the peculiar circumstances in which I was placed by 
 
 21
 
 322 STEPHEN OLIN. 
 
 my false pretensions to piety, would not permit me to dis- 
 close the state of my feelings. I groaned, and prayed, and 
 wept alone. It was on the 20th of September (1821) that 
 the blessed Jesus poured the oil and the wine into my 
 wounded spirit. It was a glorious moment a happy mo- 
 ment ! I passed from hell to paradise. I was filled with 
 speechless exultation, and a considerable time elapsed be- 
 fore I could believe that I was in my right mind. Blessed 
 be God ! I still feel the sacred flame glowing within me. 
 Cherish it, O thou Source of everything good and perfect, 
 till the sin of my heart be consumed, and, a brand plucked 
 from the burning, my voice shall join with those who cease 
 not to ascribe glory and dominion to the Lamb that was 
 slain!" 
 
 From that hour all thoughts of worldly greatness died 
 within him. In his own words, he was " cured of that over- 
 weening, damning ambition which had blinded his eyes, 
 and brought him to the brink of ruin." The political 
 arena, the legislative hall, the ermine of the judiciary 
 faded from his vision, and his eye was fixed upon that cen- 
 tral glory of the universe the cross of Christ. In ponder- 
 ing the question, To what branch of the Church shall 1 
 attach myself? he asked not, Where shall I meet the most 
 refined associates, or how may I journey most gracefully 
 through this wilderness ? " I j oined the Methodist Church," 
 he says, "because I believed their doctrines were those of 
 the Bible, their practice truly Christian. I, however, carried 
 with me strong prejudices against some of their peculiarities, 
 and determined, as soon as I could have access to an Epis- 
 copal Church, to become a member of it, as, on the whole, 
 more congenial, in principle and practice, with my feelings 
 and opinions. I was led, however, to examine the matter
 
 BTEPHKX OLIN. 323 
 
 seriously and conscientiously, and this examination has 
 resulted in a full determination to remain in the Methodist 
 Church. I believe them to be a more humble and a more 
 holy people. * * * I am sure I can be more useful 
 among them, and an instrument, I hope, of getting more 
 souls to heaven. This, with me, decides the matter. The 
 humiliations, the labours, the poverty, the reproaches, do 
 not terrify me." 
 
 Having settled this question, he never faltered in his 
 attachment, but devoted himself with a zeal that never 
 wearied, and a love that never grew cold, to promote the 
 best interests of the Church of his choice. Not that he 
 became a bigot, or allowed himself to be blinded by the 
 subtle dust of sectarian prejudice. He was, during his 
 whole life, a model of large-hearted catholicity, and was 
 frank in the declaration of the sentiment that " the sorest 
 evil which presses upon the American Churches the 
 chiefest obstacle to their real prosperity in holiness and 
 usefulness is the spirit of sectarianism." 
 
 " Bigotry," he says, on another occasion, " is, in my de- 
 liberate opinion, one of the chief obstacles in the way of 
 the gospel one of the devil's main engines to carry for- 
 ward his warfare against the kingdom of God. From the 
 depths of my soul, I loathe the miserable sectarianism, by 
 whatever name called, which keeps Christ's disciples at 
 variance ! I would abandon my own denomination without 
 hesitancy if it refused to recognise others as true Churches 
 and true ministers of Christ." 
 
 But while he avowed his hostility to that spirit, and de- 
 nounced it on all proper occasions, he had little sympathy 
 for the men who know nothing of that endearing intimacy, 
 that heart-communion, by which the faithful of every
 
 STEPHEN OLIN. 
 
 denomination are linked together ; and by which they are 
 impelled, not to love others less, but their own more. He 
 prized the peculiarities which distinguished the people of 
 his own communion, and was ever ready to uphold and 
 defend them, while at the same time he saw the excel- 
 lences of others, and gave them all due honour. But he, 
 especially if he were a minister, who, under any specious 
 pretext, forsook his own fold for another, the renegade, 
 was ever an object of his utter contempt, mingled indeed 
 with pity, when, in the judgment of charity, such an emo- 
 tion might be deemed justifiable. 
 
 As is almost universally the case with the young con- 
 vert, his first desire, after he found his own feet placed 
 upon the Rock, was to make known to his relatives and 
 friends how great things the Lord had done for him, and 
 invite them to a participation of the same blessedness. 
 Some of the letters which he addressed at this time to 
 those near his heart are models of faithful earnestness and 
 eloquent entreaty. Among those to whom he thus wrote 
 were two young men who had been his fellow-students, 
 and who, he had reason to suppose, had been hardened in 
 a course of sin by his own example at college ; and it is 
 remarkable that both of them soon after embraced the 
 Saviour and became preachers of the gospel the one in 
 the Protestant Episcopal, the other in the Congregational 
 Church. The latter gentleman, in relating the circum- 
 stance, says : " It was a most faithful letter a model of 
 Christian fidelity and friendship, and truly characteristic 
 of the nobleness of his spirit. It is worth vastly more 
 than anything I can write respecting him. That it had 
 a great influence in producing a change in myself is 
 certain."
 
 STEPHEN OLIN. 325 
 
 It is not wonderful, therefore, that in after years he who 
 had been by God's blessing so successful in the first efforts 
 of his religious letter-writing, should have dwelt frequently 
 upon the good effects likely to result from thus following 
 the dictates of the Spirit, and that he should have urged 
 the performance of the duty in his own impressive style. 
 Beautifully and truthfully he says, and the sentiment, as 
 we have seen, was founded upon his own experience: 
 "The glow and outbursting joyous gratitude of the new- 
 born soul, the fervours of his first love, the fresh lustre 
 of his beautiful garments, become potent agencies for 
 good, and no more pleasant incense than his ever rises up 
 to heaven." 
 
 Yery soon after uniting with the Church he was invited 
 occasionally by one of the itinerant ministers to go with 
 him to his appointments on the Sabbath, and to close the 
 service by exhortation and prayer. His exercises of this 
 kind were, from the first, strikingly impressive, and the 
 young exhorter was soon licensed, according to the forms 
 of the Church, to preach the gospel. His first regular 
 sermon, although, in fact, his exhortations had all been 
 sermons, was delivered at a quarterly meeting in the 
 neighbourhood of his school-room, and gave bright promise 
 of what the Church might expect from one so gifted and 
 so entirely bent upon doing his Master's will. It was lumi- 
 nous, energetic, and, at times, overwhelming. " Never in 
 the memory of the oldest Methodists had so powerful a 
 preacher burst with so sudden a splendour and tremendous 
 an effect upon the Church." Such is the recorded testi- 
 timony of his earliest sermons, and thus he continued until 
 the end, sparing not himself in the pulpit even when 
 debilitated by disease, and when fully conscious that the
 
 326 STEPHEN OLIN. 
 
 effort would be succeeded by weeks and perhaps months 
 of prostration and suffering. The love of Christ con- 
 strained him, and although before entering the pulpit he 
 agreed fully with the advice of friends, and resolved to be 
 prudent and moderate, yet, when there, he appeared to be 
 borne onward with the resistless tide of his own feelings, 
 swelled as it always was by the visible and sometimes 
 audible emotions of his hearers, and prudence was for- 
 gotten and self lost sight of. 
 
 And thus we have indicated one element of the power 
 by which he swayed so majestically the multitudes who 
 listened spell-bound to his eloquence. In addition to this 
 apparently utter forgetfulness of self, there was also an 
 absolute dependence upon the promised aid of the Holy 
 Spirit and faith in lively exercise. It was a solemn thing 
 to be in the pulpit with him when, before commencing 
 the service, he knelt and wrestled, with head upturned and 
 outstretched arms, as if seeing the Invisible, and then rose 
 with a sunny smile upon his countenance which evinced 
 that he had prevailed with God. 
 
 His style, manner, and action were everywhere, and 
 especially in the pulpit, peculiarly his own, unique in fact, 
 formed after no model, and certainly at variance with the 
 prescribed rules of oratory and homiletics. Measured by 
 those rules and tested by such standards there was much 
 to find fault with, and many things that might have been 
 different; but who would have had them altered? Ere 
 the head could have thus decided, the heart, taken cap- 
 tive, decreed that it was all as it should be. His gestures 
 were not graceful, yet were they never inappropriate, and 
 at times a grammatical error would escape him, a solecism, 
 or a word pronounced not according to the arbitrary
 
 STEPHEN OLIN. 327 
 
 standard of the most recent lexicographer. But who ever 
 thought of the application of mere rhetorical rules while 
 listening to his impassioned tones, and receiving into his 
 soul those masses of hallowed truth which he hewed out 
 with a giant's power, and threw among his hearers with 
 an apparently inexhaustible prodigality ? 
 
 He carried no notes with him into the pulpit, where it 
 was his wont, after announcing his text, to close the Bible, 
 and, without announcing formally the divisions of his sub- 
 ject, to explain it with simplicity, and thence onward to 
 the close with increasing energy and accelerating power 
 to enforce it by argument and apt illustration. But his dis- 
 courses were all perfectly systematic, thoroughly digested, 
 well-studied. Few men were more careful in their prepa- 
 rations. The oil which he brought into the sanctuary was 
 beaten oil. He prepared himself as if he expected no aid 
 from the Holy Spirit, and threw himself upon the promises 
 as if no preparation had been made. ^ On this point he 
 practically exemplified his own precepts, urging, as he did, 
 upon every young minister with whom he had influence, 
 the indispensable necessity of diligent study and the most 
 careful preparation. He saw and felt the importance of 
 theological schools, and, at a time when it was not popular 
 to do so, he advocated their establishment and their claims 
 to the patronage of the ministry and laity of his own 
 denomination. Writing to a brother clergyman who had 
 asked his opinion upon the subject, he gave it frankly. 
 "It is," said he, "that such institutions are not only desira- 
 ble but indispensable. "We got along passably well," he 
 continues, " when other denominations were wasting their 
 strength in attempting to explain and inculcate the blind 
 mysteries of Calvinism ; but now, when they unite great
 
 328 STEPHEN OLIN. 
 
 learning and zeal to as much Arminianism as gives them 
 access to the popular mind, we must educate our ministry 
 better or sink" Adverting to the popular objection that 
 the mission of the Methodists is especially to the unlearned 
 and the indigent, he says, " "We may boast of preaching to 
 the poor, but without the due intermixture of the rich 
 and influential we cannot fulfil our destiny as a Church. 
 Nothing can save us but an able ministry, and this cannot 
 be had but by thorough education." This was his unwa- 
 vering conviction upon a subject with which at times he 
 was, in his own language, "full to overflowing and to 
 agony." 
 
 His sermons usually occupied two hours, and frequently 
 more, in their delivery, yet could it not be said that he 
 violated the injunction of the Discipline, "Do not preach 
 too long," for he held the attention of his hearers to the 
 end, and the time passed so imperceptibly that only by 
 turning their eyes to the clock did they become aware of 
 its flight. A sermon delivered by him on the last night 
 of the year 1845, in the church in Madison-street, New- 
 York, the pulpit of which he had occupied on the three 
 preceding Sunday mornings, was one of his greatest efforts, 
 and in its effects most overwhelming. It was a watch- 
 night, the first and the only time he preached on a similar 
 occasion. It had been intended that the pastor of the 
 church should follow the discourse with an exhortation, 
 and the last hour of the year was to be spent in prayer. 
 The service commenced at eight o'clock, and the prelimi- 
 nary exercises occupied twenty-five or thirty minutes, 
 when he arose and announced his text. It was Ephesians 
 iv, 30, and a meagre outline of the sermon is found in his 
 published works. For the first hour he dwelt mainly, in a
 
 STEPHEN OLIN. 329 
 
 didactic style, upon the peculiar offices and work of the 
 Holy Spirit, and upon the duty of Christians with refer- 
 ence to His operations upon the heart. Thus far his course 
 had been like that of a majestic river, widening and deep- 
 ening in its onward course. During the second hour the 
 solemn stillness of the vast assembly attested the presence 
 of that celestial Agent who was the theme of the discourse, 
 and the speaker, evidently baptized afresh, poured forth 
 an irresistible tide of expostulation and entreaty which 
 appeared to subdue every spirit and to take captive every 
 will. The stillness and the solemnity increased ; and 
 during the momentary pauses of the preacher you might 
 hear the beatings of your own heart amid the half-stifled 
 sobs of those around you, and read in their tearful eyes a 
 resolution like your own, then and there to commence a 
 new life. And now he had brought us within the last 
 hour of the departing year, and as he depicted the dread- 
 ful state of him who had grieved the Holy Spirit for the 
 last time, when hope had fled and mercy shrieked fare- 
 well, an unutterable horror fell upon the hearts of his 
 hearers, whence arose a responsive echo to the prayer with 
 which he closed " Take not thy Holy Spirit from me." 
 
 When he sat down there remained but time for a few 
 minutes of silent devotion, in which the congregation 
 joined, and then the 'New Tear was ushered in. It did 
 seein on that occasion as if there was no hyperbole in the 
 sentiment of one who tells us that he felt as if " Olin could 
 convert anybody ; and that once fastened within the sound 
 of his voice, conviction and conversion were inevitable." 
 Those who heard that sermon could well understand how 
 it was that no less than thirteen persons found peace in be- 
 lieving while listening to his voice at a camp-meeting, and
 
 330 STEPHEN OLIN. 
 
 that in the earlier stages of his ministry scores frequently 
 rushed to the altar for prayers, after one of his discourses, 
 without waiting for an invitation. 
 
 His sermons were totally devoid of anything like the 
 trickery of oratory. There was no affectation, no clap- 
 trap. He never told stories in the pulpit. He reasoned 
 with his hearers, and his reasoning was clear and conclu- 
 sive, cumbered at times with a superfluity of verbiage, and 
 overloaded with the gorgeous drapery of his rhetoric. But 
 he introduced no ornaments for their own sake, and in the 
 minds of his hearers there never arose a suspicion that the 
 speaker was seeking, for himself or for his most elaborate 
 discourses, so paltry a thing as their admiration. He 
 sought to win their hearts for his Master, keeping himself 
 in the background and ever making prominent Christ and 
 his cross. The exuberance of his style and the affluence of 
 his diction indicated the exhaustless riches of grace in the 
 treasury of his soul, and the overwhelming tide of his elo- 
 quence seemed to flow necessarily from the depth of the 
 well-spring of living waters within him. 
 
 His illustrations were drawn mainly from the Bible, and 
 circumstances and events in the historical parts of the Old 
 Testament were frequently brought forward with great 
 beauty, and always with wonderful pertinency. His de- 
 scriptive powers were of the highest order, and his pictures, 
 if we may so call them, were drawn so vividly, were so 
 striking and so truthful, that they left an almost indelible 
 impression upon the mind. The conclusion of his watch- 
 night sermon, to which we have adverted, may be taken as 
 an illustration ; and another, equally striking, although not 
 so dreadful, for that was terrible almost beyond endurance, 
 was given before the Genesee Conference, during its ses-
 
 STEPHEN OLIN. 331 
 
 sion at Vienna, 1ST. Y., in September, 1844. His congrega- 
 tion, amounting, as was estimated, to above five thousand, 
 were ranged before him in a beautiful grove. The time, 
 the afternoon of a lovely Sabbath, as the shades of evening 
 were drawing on; his hearers, among whom were two 
 hundred Methodist preachers; the serenity of the scene, 
 its sacred stillness, and the certainty that he should never 
 again address that assembly, all conspired to stir the great 
 fountain of his soul to its utmost depths ; and for two hours 
 and a half that immense throng hung upon the speaker's 
 lips in rapt silence, broken occasionally by a responsive 
 amen or an involuntary hallelujah. Toward the close of 
 his discourse he described a party of pleasure. They were 
 in a boat upon the bosom of a beautiful and placid river. 
 There was music and dancing. The merry song went 
 round, and the wine-cup. Gaily and gallantly they were 
 borne onward; and now, O God! they are within the 
 rapids ; but they heed not, hear not the cry of warning from 
 the banks of the river, and are fast approaching a point 
 where it will be beyond the power of earth and Heaven 
 combined to save them. A little further a little further, 
 and the precipice will be reached, and the hoarse cataract 
 will chant their melancholy, ceaseless, unavailing requiem. 
 Turning then to the preachers who sat around him, with 
 outstretched arms and tearful eyes, and in a voice almost 
 suffocated with emotion, he cried, " It is for you, brethren, 
 to rouse these infatuated voyagers from their maddening 
 dream ; to spare no effort, to shun no cross, if perchance, by 
 God's blessing, you may stop them, and rescue them, and 
 save them, ere they reach the verge of that tremendous preci- 
 pice from the base of which, if they take the fearful plunge, 
 the smoke of their torment will ascend forever and ever."
 
 332 STEPHEN OLIX. 
 
 "We profess not to give the precise language of the 
 speaker, for, as the editor of a religious paper who was 
 present remarked, one might as well attempt to report the 
 thunders of Niagara or the blast of a hurricane ; but we 
 have given the sentiment, and must leave to the reader's 
 imagination the effect produced. In a letter to a young 
 friend he thus speaks of the sermon referred to : " Last 
 Sunday I preached to the Genesee Conference a body of 
 nearly two hundred ministers. It was a season of the pres- 
 ence of God, and will long be remembered by many who 
 were present. I was enabled to say plain things, and the 
 hearts of the people were open. I love such seasons. 
 They are eras in my past life on which I look back and 
 thank God. In nothing do I so exult as in this work of 
 the ministry this holding up Christ as the one object of 
 faith, and love, and admiration. I have often thought that 
 I would willingly spend six days of every week in a cell, 
 on a sick bed, if on the seventh I might be allowed to 
 preach Christ crucified. It is not merely a duty, and, so, 
 grateful to the conscience in the discharge of it; it is 
 always a joyful season, a feast to my own feelings. And 
 yet I am not likely to do much of this work." 
 
 A melancholy sentence that last, coming though it did 
 from a heart subdued, and chastened, and submissive. 
 " Not likely to do much of a work" in which his soul found 
 its chiefest joy, which he did so faithfully and so well, and 
 for the privilege of doing which he would gladly have en- 
 dured privation and suffering! Truly this was a fathom- 
 less mystery, one of the strangest things in the providential 
 dealings of the infinitely wise God, that he who by his gifts 
 and graces might have done so much was permitted to do 
 so little, to preach so seldom. It frequently tempted the
 
 STEPHEN OLIN. 333 
 
 soul that longed for the prosperity of Zion to say unto the 
 great Head of the Church, What doest thou ? Truly His 
 thoughts are not as our thoughts ; and the example of the 
 sick man, silent upon his couch of suffering, joyously listen- 
 ing to what others were permitted to do for the promotion 
 of God's glory, or for it offering praises to his name, while 
 it subdued the spirit, prompting the utterance of the Sav- 
 iour's language, " Even so, Father, for so it seemed good in 
 thy sight," did but postpone the solution of the mystery 
 until the hour when we shall no longer see through a glass 
 darkly. 
 
 A few months of actual service as a pastor in the city of 
 Charleston were all that the Church was permitted to enjoy 
 in this relation. Then followed a season of suffering, jour- 
 neyings in quest of health, a little respite, the duties of a 
 professor's chair, entered upon with bright anticipations and 
 prosecuted with diligence, and then the sick-bed again; 
 "an old man ; a broken reed at twenty-seven P And thus 
 it was all through the years of his pilgrimage. As pro- 
 fessor of rhetoric in Franklin College at Athens in Georgia, 
 as President of Randolph Macon in Yirginia, and of the 
 Wesleyan University at Middletown in Connecticut, he 
 had occasional seasons of renovated health, when he was 
 permitted, with gladness of heart, and O with what entire 
 devotedness ! to apply all the energies of his mighty soul to 
 the work before him. 
 
 As an instructor of youth and as presiding officer of a 
 literary institution he had few equals, and, in all soberness 
 it may be said, no superior. A strict disciplinarian, and 
 yet full of benignity and kindness, the students loved him. 
 His one great object, the best interests of those committed 
 to his care, was so evident, and, in fact, in all he said and
 
 334: STEPHEN OLIN. 
 
 did, so perfectly transparent, that even an attempt to impose 
 upon or deceive him seemed on their part like the grossest 
 moral obliquity, and very few were so callous as to attempt 
 it. " The secret of his government," says one of his stu- 
 dents who has attained a high position in the world of let- 
 ters, " consisted in awakening and keeping in active exer- 
 cise a sense of moral obligation. He never appealed to a 
 base or ambitious motive ; and, though it might have been 
 proper enough to have done so, he never appealed to the 
 decision of public sentiment to popular opinion not even 
 to the opinions of parents and friends. ' Thou God seest 
 me' was the burden of his appeals. In aid of his govern- 
 ment he entered into the religious exercises connected with 
 the daily operations of college with such a spirituality 
 and pathos and heavenly-mindedness that they shed a 
 restraining and hallowing influence upon the whole col- 
 lege body." 
 
 Deservedly popular as an instructor, and highly appre- 
 ciated as were his collegiate labours, they were very far 
 from reaching his own standard of duty. He, indeed, was 
 continually pressing toward that mark. A month or two, 
 not indeed of health but of comparative convalescence, 
 would be succeeded by weeks of prostration, which threw 
 him back, disarranged his plans, and infused into his cup 
 bitterness known only to himself and his God. One of the 
 last and, perhaps, most trying of his disappointments was 
 shared by the members of the University, and is a source 
 of unavailing regret to the entire literary world. He com- 
 menced a course of lectures upon the theory and practice 
 of scholastic life ; and how did he rejoice and give thanks 
 that now, indeed, he had a prospect of doing something 
 worthy of himself and of the position which he occupied.
 
 STEPHEN OLIN. 335 
 
 His whole heart was in the work. Beautiful and full of 
 wisdom were these elaborate productions of his pen ; but, 
 as in so many previous undertakings, his projected course 
 was brought suddenly to a close. He was not even per- 
 mitted to read the lectures he had prepared, and the last, 
 half-finished, remains a memorial a broken memento of 
 his zeal in the cause of religious education and of his 
 blighted hopes. 
 
 It was owing to the peculiarity of his disease that he did 
 not receive from those who were but slightly acquainted 
 with him, and even from some of his more intimate 
 friends, that sympathy to which he was entitled. His 
 general appearance was robust and rugged; he had for 
 the most part a good appetite, and during the intervals of 
 his most acute suffering he was industriously occupied and 
 cheerful, even amid the utter derangement of his entire 
 nervous system. Industry and cheerfulness, these were 
 prevailing traits of his character. Nothing but absolute 
 inability to do anything reconciled him to even a day's 
 idleness. He loved to work, and the wonder is, not that 
 he did so little, but that he performed so much. "When 
 others would have thought themselves perfectly justifiable 
 in seeking their own ease, and in the enjoyment of the 
 luxury of returning convalescence, he was busied with his 
 pen striving to rouse the slumbering energies of the Church 
 to vigorous efforts for the education of the young ; setting 
 forth her delinquencies upon the great cause which was 
 still nearer to his heart the cause of missions; arrang- 
 ing and rewriting the brief notes of his travels in foreign 
 lands, from which he prepared those noble volumes 
 which are deservedly placed in the first rank of similar 
 productions; watching with paternal anxiety over the
 
 336 STEPHEN OLIN. 
 
 interests, temporal and spiritual, of the students, and pre- 
 paring those masterly discourses with which he met them 
 on the last Sabbath of their intercourse, and of which, it 
 is not too much to say, the graduating class of no semi- 
 nary received, at their departure, a more faithful or a 
 more precious legacy. 
 
 Manfully did he struggle with his disease, making it a 
 matter of conscience to avail himself of every means within 
 his reach, that if by any possibility he might do effective 
 service in the cause of God. For this he journeyed by 
 sea and land, in his own and in foreign countries, put 
 himself under the care of physicians of different schools, 
 attended with punctilious accuracy to the regulations pre- 
 scribed for his daily life, followed the plough for hours 
 at a time, toiled in his garden like a day-labourer, and 
 might have been seen, especially during his latter years, 
 long ere the chapel-bell had called the students from 
 their beds, 
 
 " Brushing with hasty steps the dews away, 
 To meet the sun upon the upland lawn." 
 
 To the common observer these things did not indicate a 
 suffering invalid; nor did his sermons, so long, so ener- 
 getic, so full of pathos and of power, for the delivery of 
 which he had roused himself from a couch of pain and 
 returned to it at the close of the service. And then how 
 companionable he was, his spirits how buoyant; even 
 when stretched at full length upon the sofa, unable to 
 stand or sit, his conversation seemed to fill the whole room 
 with sunshine, and the hearts of all present with a portion 
 of his own cheerfulness. 
 
 No man more deserved the sympathy of his friends, and
 
 STEPHEN OLIN. 337 
 
 none were more grateful for it. He seemed to lean upon 
 those who loved him with all the confiding simple-hearted- 
 ness of a little child, and nothing gave him more pain 
 than anything like alienation of affection on the part of 
 those he loved. At the General Conference of 1844, 
 where he gave an honest vote upon the case of the slave- 
 holding bishop, he offended grievously many of his South- 
 ern friends. He was placed in a position of great delicacy, 
 where, as he foresaw, the discharge of his duty would 
 involve sacrifices ; but grace enabled him to make them. 
 " It is perhaps well," said he, " for the trial of faith and 
 integrity, to be fixed in such a position ;" and he looked 
 back upon what he had done with a satisfied conscience, 
 although he grieved that for this his earliest ministerial 
 associates and friends should have rudely snapped the ties 
 which had hitherto bound them together. Especially did 
 he feel most keenly the unmerited reproaches heaped upon 
 him in the Southern periodicals. " With one exception," 
 says he, "no man has been so often alluded to in terms of 
 reproach as I have in their papers." And this was done 
 by those whose professions of esteem and love were ardent 
 and unvarying up to that memorable hour. The utterance 
 of sentiments founded upon the clearest convictions of 
 right, a vote given conscientiously, that was all ; but that 
 was the unpardonable offence to many with whom he had 
 in former days taken sweet counsel, and walked unto the 
 house of God in company. "It was not an enemy that 
 reproached me, then I could have borne it." 
 
 His own connexion with slavery while he resided in the 
 Southern States was, in his latter years, a frequent topic 
 of conversation between himself and his more intimate 
 friends. It was a subject upon which he often meditated 
 
 22
 
 338 STEPHEN OLIN. 
 
 when far from the scenes of what he called its " great and 
 appalling evils." This connexion was, to the last of his 
 life, a source of no little uneasiness ; and in reviewing it, 
 and taking into the account the circumstances in which he 
 was placed, being ignorant when he married that his wife 
 was the owner of slaves, and living in the midst of " the 
 institution," he was "not able to feel that he did wrong," 
 but at the same time not satisfied that he had done right ; 
 for, under the influence of the prevailing customs, he had 
 been induced both to buy and to sell his fellow-men. 
 "All this," says he, "I have prayerfully reviewed many, 
 many times, and with emotions not to be described, yet 
 have I not been able to feel that I sinned in being the 
 owner of slaves. Yet I the more humbly and patiently 
 endure reproach from a feeling that I may have mis- 
 judged in this business." That was the corroding thought : 
 "I may have misjudged in this business." 
 
 Charitable as he was with regard to the conduct of 
 others, and ever anxious to find excuses and palliations 
 for those who had been " overtaken in a fault," he was 
 ever a severe censor upon himself. With an acute con- 
 scientiousness, the thought that in any instance he had 
 erred, even in judgment, troubled him ; and, while those 
 who knew him best were rejoicing in that clear light 
 which his whole course of conduct was throwing upon the 
 narrow pathway to the skies, he was lamenting in secret 
 places his deviations from that pathway, and clinging to 
 the cross of Christ as his only hope. He studied the char- 
 acter and pondered upon the perfections of the Holy One, 
 contrasting therewith his own unworthiness, until the per- 
 vading sentiment of his soul found a fitting utterance in 
 the language of his great prototype in suffering: "I have
 
 STEPHEN OLIN. 339 
 
 heard of thee by the hearing of the ear, but now mine eye 
 seeth thee : wherefore I abhor myself, and repent in dust 
 and ashes." 
 
 The anxiety of friends, and the commonplace question- 
 ings of visitors, obliged him to talk much about the state 
 of his health, his protracted afflictions, and ever-baffled 
 expectations. He never magnified them, but would dwell 
 rather, O how joyously! upon the blessings mingled in his 
 cup, his conjugal happiness, his parental hopes, and the 
 solace afforded him by the circle of dear friends in whose 
 welfare he found one of his chief joys. The remembrance 
 of his outgushing sympathy is to those he loved a most 
 precious legacy, chastened, saddened it may be, by the 
 thought, now that he has passed away, that it was not 
 always reciprocated with the earnest devotedness it de- 
 served. 
 
 His self-depreciation in estimating his own labours in 
 the pulpit, the study, the recitation-room, might have been 
 mistaken for affectation but for his manifest candour and 
 singleness of heart. No man had less of what the apostle 
 calls a "voluntary humility." He loved, when utterly 
 unable himself to preach, and when his nervous prostra- 
 tion would permit, to attend upon the ordinances of the 
 Lord's house, and among the gathered assembly on the 
 Sabbath he took his seat with a child-like reverence, his 
 whole demeanour indicating that he came not there to 
 criticise, but to worship and to look up, trustfully, to his 
 Father in heaven for the bread of life. He was wont to 
 say, when speaking of one whose privilege it was to preach 
 frequently in his presence, that not only was he always 
 profited by his discourses, but that his style of preaching 
 was far superior to his own in his best days. But it
 
 340 STEPHEN OLIN. 
 
 mattered little who occupied the pulpit if the sermon 
 evinced careful preparation, and an honest desire to glorify 
 God and to do good. He received it with thankfulness, 
 and in all the congregation there was not one who listened 
 with more fixed attention, or drank in more gratefully the 
 joyful sound. 
 
 Specially endearing was the relationship between him- 
 self when laid aside from the public duties of his profes- 
 sion, and the pastor of the flock of which he rejoiced to 
 reckon himself a member. Not among the youngest dis- 
 ciples the lambs of that flock was there a more gentle 
 spirit, nor one with whom it was so refreshing to converse 
 and to bow at the mercy-seat. With a power of intellect 
 such as Heaven permits to but a favoured few, a world- 
 wide reputation as an accomplished scholar, and the fame 
 of a pulpit orator second to none in either hemisphere, 
 with these all laid upon the altar, and a spirit chastened 
 and subdued, would he give utterance, in the simplest 
 phrase, to his religious state his hopes, his prospects, and 
 his fears. 
 
 In the earlier part of his Christian life he panted after 
 high religious enjoyments the raptures of love ; but, lat- 
 terly, his experience having been modified by his lingering 
 afflictions, he seemed rather to long for quiet repose in 
 Christ for unmurmuring, absolute submissiveness. He 
 would talk of life, not as a period by itself, but as a part 
 of his whole existence, and of the change effected by 
 death as even less than many of the changes through 
 which he had already passed. " My heart is fixed ;" 
 " Though he slay me, yet will I trust in him ;" " Thy will 
 be done." " These texts," said he, " suit me best, and are 
 most expressive of my feelings." " I may die," said he,
 
 STEPHEN OLIN. 341 
 
 and the sentences were written from his lips by his beloved 
 wife, " I may die just as I am, trusting, believing, but with 
 no rapturous expressions though I think I should have a 
 glad feeling to find myself on the borders of endless life, 
 with infirmities, disappointments, sorrows, forever at an 
 end. I feel that it cannot be that I should be cast out 
 from the heaven where are gathered the people whom I 
 love, with whose spirits and tastes I sympathize from the 
 society I relish, to that which I loathe ; to the hell where 
 the worldly, the unbelieving, for whose society I have a 
 distaste, with whom I have nothing in common, find their 
 portion. It is unphilosophical to think so ; it cannot be in 
 God's economy to separate me from what I have so long 
 trusted in. He sends to hell those who will not submit to 
 his will ; but my will is in harmony with his. The law of 
 affinities will find place." 
 
 Simple language, but expressive ! Those who knew him 
 only at a distance, and were unacquainted with his inner 
 life who had heard his thrilling voice magnifying the 
 grace of the Lord Jesus and the power of his cross, or 
 portraying with a seraph's fire the saint's victory over 
 death and the grave, might have expected something more 
 explicit, more joyous; and, as he entered the dark valley, 
 a testimony full of rapturous and triumphant anticipation. 
 But to those who had known his daily walk, who had been 
 favoured with the whisperings of his gentle spirit in the 
 privacy of confidential friendship, and who were sum- 
 moned to his bed-side when his majestic soul, majestic in 
 its lowliness, was struggling to escape from its shattered 
 prison-house, to them such a testimony was not necessary, 
 and for himself it was enough that then and there he could 
 repeat the declaration, " My will is in harmony with His."
 
 342 STEPHEN OLIN. 
 
 And thus it was, even as he had said, death found him 
 trusting, believing; with no rapturous expressions but with 
 a warm pressure of the hand, and a blessing for the loved 
 ones around his couch, he passed away, verifying his own 
 prediction, and entering upon the fruition of his modestly 
 expressed but glorious hope, "The law of affinities will 
 find place !"
 
 EEESLDENT OF THE CONFERENCE . 
 B80 1888.1836 i-1844.
 
 uitting. 
 
 IT has been said that the name of no English preacher has 
 appeared more in print than that of JABEZ BUNTING, and yet 
 none has shown more dislike of such notoriety. He has 
 openly rebuked the reporters, and repeated his old sermons 
 before them, as if to defy them, and with express admonition 
 that they should only get what they had recorded before. 
 He seems studiously to have kept, from the " pen-and-ink 
 sketchers" and "penny-a-liners," the incidents, and even 
 the dates, of his life ; he is a wise man, and stops not for 
 even self-defence against the misrepresentations of the 
 press frequent of late well knowing that the practical 
 history of a public man, if right in itself, will in due time, 
 and demonstratively, explain and vindicate his character. 
 
 It is somewhat difficult, then, to make out a veritable 
 narrative of Dr. Bunting's long career. Most extant arti- 
 cles about him have been but general sketches character- 
 istic portraitures. We have been able, however, to glean 
 some reliable facts, and give them here, woven into as 
 comprehensive and brief an outline as possible. 
 
 Richard Boardman, the first preacher sent to this coun- 
 try by John Wesley, passed, on his way to embark, through 
 the village of Moneyash, Derbyshire, in the summer of 
 1769. He preached there on the prayer of Jabez.
 
 344 JABEZ BUNTING. 
 
 1 Chron. iv, 9, 10. The word was " a savour of life unto 
 life" to, at least, one soul present a young lady. She 
 never forgot the occasion, and will never forget it in 
 heaven. So deep was the impression of the subject on 
 her memory, that when, ten years later, she became a 
 mother, she devoted her first-born son to God, and " called 
 his name Jabez." He was born at Manchester (not Mo- 
 ney ash, as usually stated) May 13, 1T79. Great men, it is 
 said, derive their characters from their mothers. Unques- 
 tionably the decided religious character of his mother 
 influenced the whole destiny of Jabez Bunting. His early 
 and great capacity for any kind of success, and the numer- 
 ous temptations to secular life which beset him, would 
 have diverted, from the self-sacrificing career he chose, 
 almost any ordinary man; but a direction was given to 
 his mind in the outset which has energetically borne him 
 along through his protracted career. His mother carried 
 him, when yet a babe, to Oldham-street Chapel, Man- 
 chester, to receive the blessing of the venerable founder 
 of Methodism. Mr. Wesley took him in his arms and 
 pronounced a benediction upon him. The history of 
 Methodism has shown that it was a bequest of his own 
 mantle to the child. 
 
 His conversion was brought about by an incident which, 
 though apparently trivial, seems to have had a providen- 
 tial relation to his subsequent life as a great administrator 
 in the Church. His mother, remembering her vows, habit- 
 ually took him to the love-feasts when he was yet a child. 
 About his fifteenth year Alexander Mather (a name of 
 note) was their pastor. He was a rigid disciplinarian, and 
 admitted no one to these meetings without the "ticket" 
 the proof of membership in the Society. The boy was
 
 JABEZ BUNTING. 345 
 
 getting ready to go one day, when his mother informed him, 
 with much seriousness, that he could not get admittance, 
 remarking, " I do not know what you think of it, Jabez, 
 but to me it seems an awful thing, that, after having been 
 carried there, you should now be excluded by your own 
 fault." " The Lord used these simple words of maternal 
 solicitude," says an English writer, " to awaken a soul that 
 was to be the instrument of awakening many. Not a few 
 will remember the simplicity and pathos with which he 
 related this fact at the Centenary meeting in City-road 
 Chapel ; adding, with a gush of emotion, ' I have to thank 
 God for Methodist discipline as well as for Methodist doc- 
 trine.' To use again his own words 'That moment the 
 blow was struck in the right place.' Soon after, he was a 
 regular and earnest member of a class led by his maternal 
 uncle. The class paper, for one quarter in the year after 
 he joined, is still extant, and against the name of Jabez 
 Bunting 'absent' is not once marked. Thus discipline 
 stood allied with his most sacred recollections." 
 
 Like most really great men, he early gave evidence of 
 superiority. A physician, Dr. Percival, was so struck with 
 the promise of his mind that he proposed to take him under 
 his patronage. The opportunity was an auspicious one, 
 and, Mrs. Bunting being now a widow, it might have 
 seemed providential; but she remembered her vow, and 
 kept the boy for her Lord. In about his twentieth year 
 he went forth, accompanied by his friend James Wood, (a 
 distinguished name afterwards among "Wesleyan Method- 
 ists,) to preach his first sermon in a farm-house. His text 
 was, "Ye believe in God, believe also in me." The dis- 
 course gave to his friend a presentiment of his future suc- 
 cess. " I never heard a better sermon," he exclaimed.
 
 346 JABEZ BUNTING. 
 
 "Jabez shall be more honourable than his brethren." 
 " Nearly forty years from that day," says an English 
 author, "you might see this same countenance fixed on 
 the same friend, and glowing with like sentiments. They 
 are now in that Oldham-street Chapel, so connected with 
 their early religious course. The black locks of James 
 Wood have become white as snow, and time has also 
 touched his friend. The compact, expressive head is 
 very bald; the pale countenance has become full and 
 strongly coloured ; and instead of extreme slenderness, we 
 have advanced corpulency. But the whole air speaks 
 generosity and happiness. Those smiles do not play upon 
 the countenance, that confidence does not sit in the eye, 
 those various tones of easy and sometimes playful sagacity, 
 of hope, and humour, and pathos, do not come from the 
 breast of a man who has a bitter or a broken heart. 
 Methodism has reached the age of a hundred years, and 
 her chief men are met to concert measures for duly noting 
 her centenary. To him all look for the clearest exposition 
 and the wisest counsel. He is in the act of opening up 
 that plan which is to evoke such , wonderful response 
 throughout home and missionary Methodism. As his 
 friend watches him with joy and pride, doubtless he thinks 
 of the day when he saw him trembling before his cottage 
 audience. Have not goodness and mercy followed them 
 both? He sits there, one of the most considerable mer- 
 chants of his native Manchester, President of the Chamber 
 of Commerce, the beloved centre of a large and intelligent 
 circle, one of the most eloquent lay preachers in the coun- 
 try, and about to lay down for the fund, on which his 
 friend is discoursing, the sum of five thousand dollars. 
 And that friend has not the prayer of Jabez been indeed
 
 JABEZ BUNTING. 34:7 
 
 answered upon him, and the lot of Jabez repeated? There 
 he stands, in that same chapel where Wesley took him in 
 his arms and blessed him : for more than twenty years he 
 has been, taking him all in all, the first man in the Meth- 
 odist ministry. Universal respect waits upon 'his virtues 
 and his talents.' He carries an amount of ecclesiastical 
 influence perhaps greater than resides in the person of 
 any other single man in Protestant Christendom, an 
 influence that touches every corner of the United King- 
 dom, every colony that England holds, and even many 
 tribes lying beyond the sphere of our national command." 
 
 His elevation to this eminence among his brethren was 
 rapid. Methodism demands practical talent. The great 
 man among its people must be a great worker, in order to 
 be a workman that needeth not to be ashamed. Brilliant 
 accomplishments, without practical skill and palpable 
 results, are of little estimation in a system so energetic 
 and demonstrative. Bunting had genius, eloquence ; but he 
 had also the insight, the common-sense, the wisdom, at once 
 subtile and comprehensive, and, above all, (as a requisite 
 with a multitudinous people and great resources,) a capa- 
 cious, generous enterprise, that could both project and sus- 
 tain large schemes. The elements of these qualifications, 
 since so eminently developed, were visible in the outset to 
 the discernment of his brethren. His career was there*- 
 fore rapid, and in this respect quite anomalous in the "Wes- 
 leyan Conference. 
 
 He entered the Conference ranks in 1799, side by side 
 with another young man who has since become second to 
 him among the notabilities of English Methodism Kobert 
 Newton. His first appointment was at Oldham. His sub- 
 sequent appointments are a curious record a striking
 
 348 JABEZ BUNTING. 
 
 indication of the influence of talent to secure, even with- 
 out ambitious management, its appropriate fields of effort. 
 Though one of the oldest preachers in the connexion, his 
 regular appointments have been limited to but eight 
 places, and those the most important in England: Old- 
 ham, Macclesfield, Liverpool, Manchester, Sheffield, Hali- 
 fax, Leeds, London. He spent eight years, with intermis- 
 sions, at Manchester ; five at Liverpool ; about thirty-three, 
 in various positions, in London. These appointments, made 
 not by his own agency, but spontaneously by his brethren, 
 show, more perhaps than does the case of any other man 
 in the history of Methodism, the predominating power of 
 real greatness, its power to concentrate about it the requisite 
 conditions of success to reinstate itself spontaneously and 
 continuously in the midst of those conditions. 
 
 We have already indicated, in general terms, the traits 
 that secured him such an open and successful career. In 
 this country he is not fully understood ; we consider him 
 chiefly as the great legislative leader of English Method- 
 ism. This he is; but this is not all. His remarkable 
 influence could never have been obtained without emi- 
 nent popular power in the pulpit. Methodism has to do 
 with the masses, and Jabez Bunting has swayed, not 
 merely the ecclesiastical men of his denomination, but its 
 popular mind beyond any other man since Wesley. He 
 is unquestionably one of the greatest preachers of the age ; 
 but great here, as in other respects, not with adventitious 
 or merely brilliant or rhetorical traits, but with the wisdom 
 and the power which befit the office, and which inherently 
 belong to the man. A writer in the London Christian 
 Times says : 
 
 "You find everywhere that the impression of his minis-
 
 JABEZ BUNTING. 349 
 
 try was not that of grandeur, or brilliancy, or beauty, but 
 chiefly of power. This impression of power was much 
 intensified by the persuasion that the power was legiti- 
 mate. The hearer knew he had not been beguiled into 
 submission by display, had not been surprised by a mere 
 rush of masterful passion, but that the preacher had fairly 
 approached his reason, challenged his resistance, and, by 
 open stroke sent swift upon open stroke, broke through all 
 his parries, then rushed upon him and bore him clean 
 away. 'What do you think of him?' asked an admirer, 
 who had taken to hear him one little used to Methodist 
 chapels. ' Think of him ! There can be but one opinion : 
 it is, Surrender at discretion.' But his power, if oratori- 
 cally great, was religiously wonderful. That power, it is 
 true, led the judgment and stirred the heart, but it chiefly 
 touched the soul. His discourses were thoroughly pre- 
 pared. Theology and style bore alike the mark of patient 
 care. But the theology had been studied, not to make it 
 ingenious, but to make it clear ; the composition had been 
 studied, not to make it ornate, but expressive. The argu- 
 ment, after being elaborated in the understanding, was not 
 passed through a decorative fancy, but through an ardent 
 heart. Every one saw that the preacher was not there to 
 preach the finest possible sermon, but to make the greatest 
 possible impression. Every one saw that, in the pulpit 
 before them, the moving power was a resolve to awaken 
 sleeping souls. This burnt as a fire a fire hot enough to 
 fuse all his theology, his rhetoric, his logic. These were 
 all there; but the hardest argument, or the most solid 
 truth, by the time it had passed through the hidden fur- 
 nace of that heart, was melted down, and the stream that 
 poured from those glowing lips was dense and burning as
 
 350 JABEZ BUNTING. 
 
 a stream of lava. One most intelligent friend assures us, 
 that while Dr. Bunting laboured in Leeds, more persons 
 were converted through his preaching than had been 
 through that of any predecessor, at least of his popular 
 order of talent. And a worthy man in that town, whose 
 judgment would not be formed on just the same grounds, 
 has, in his own way, given us a like testimony. 'He 
 was a soul-saving preacher. Bless you, all the soul-saving 
 preachers we have now-a-days are only children to him. 
 O what a power was with his word! to hear him on a 
 Sunday evening!' While stationed the second time in 
 Manchester, the members in his circuit were doubled in 
 number. His sermons were often highly charged with 
 the terrors of the Lord. He had no fear of proclaiming 
 ' the wrath of God against all ungodliness and unrighteous- 
 ness of men.' To this day many a heart bears strongly 
 marked the impression burnt into it thirty years ago by 
 some of his discourses. It was not our own lot to hear 
 him in those times. We have only had that privilege 
 since years had abated his powers. But by many a fire- 
 side, from preacher and layman, from the refined and the 
 illiterate, we have gathered for our own admonition im- 
 pressions of the preaching that marked his prime. Every- 
 where we have found that with his word came a tremendous 
 power upon a sinner's soul. All bear, as vividly as if it 
 had been yesterday, the recollection of those times when, 
 amid his lucid and animated discussion, a blush rose on 
 his pale countenance and deepened to crimson ; his clear, 
 flexible voice pitching higher, till it sometimes, but rarely, 
 broke into a scream, his words coming thicker, his looks 
 darting right into the breast of his auditory, and then a 
 call to repentance broke forth and shook them all with
 
 JABEZ BUNTING. 351 
 
 peal, and roll, and breathless lull, and loud concluding 
 crash. A sermon on 'Kemember Lot's wife' was often 
 mentioned by Mr. "Wood as an unequalled specimen of 
 this kind of power. Another on ' Beware of the leaven 
 of the Pharisees and Sadducees,' is considered by a very 
 judicious critic the most remarkable he ever heard. An 
 appeal to those he had himself baptized, we have heard 
 named by several as the noblest burst of eloquence they 
 ever heard. And thus you find in thousands of intelligent 
 minds the most vivid impression of discourses or passages 
 which he delivered half a lifetime ago. All agree that 
 they never heard a man of great reputation who could so 
 safely be pointed out to young ministers as a model. His 
 powers were cultivated not to dazzle, not to fascinate, but 
 to subdue. His Master's work was done ; and the instru- 
 ment had more abundant honour than if honour had been 
 his aim." 
 
 Thus truly great in the pulpit, he has also been vigor- 
 ously useful out of it the master manager of the plans of 
 Methodism since Wesley. Indeed, nearly all the grand 
 schemes of the denomination in England have sprung, 
 directly or indirectly, from his energy. As soon as Dr. 
 Coke died, Jabez Bunting became the chief director of the 
 missionary movement of Methodism the greatest move- 
 ment in its history and to him more than any other man 
 it owes the precedence which it now takes of all the 
 other Protestant missionary enterprises of the world. He 
 had offered to go to India himself as a missionary, and has 
 been heard to say, "Some of the happiest moments of my 
 life, next to those that immediately followed my conver- 
 sion, were when I fully presented myself to the Lord as a 
 missionary to India." He was wisely prevented from
 
 352 JABEZ BUNTING. 
 
 going, however, that he might do a larger work for mis- 
 sions at home. He helped to organize the Wesleyan mis- 
 sionary interest ; took the platform for it with triumphant 
 success; was sent to London that he might supervise it, 
 and there made one of the noblest sacrifices for it that 
 could be made by such a mind. He was endowed with 
 taste and capacity for literature, and had formed with a 
 friend some favourite literary projects; but on foreseeing 
 the results of the missionary undertakings of the "Con- 
 nexion," he wrote to his friend : " The die is cast. If I 
 give to our missions the attention they require, I shall not 
 have any time hereafter for literature." "This," says the 
 London Christian Times, "must have been a conscious 
 sacrifice of both reputation and enjoyment; but it was 
 deliberately made, and, consequently, except his sermon 
 on Justification by Faith, which has gone through seven 
 editions, you will now inquire in vain for his productions. 
 Another sermon, preached in Dr. Winter's Chapel before 
 the Sunday-School Union, is, we believe, out of print." 
 
 He was the first to introduce laymen into the manage- 
 ment of the missionary affairs of the Church, and not with- 
 out some clerical opposition. He has always had the good 
 judgment to see the value of their services, especially in 
 financial matters, where clergymen are, naturally enough, 
 found wanting. Beginning with the missionary society, 
 he urged on this improvement "till, upon every Connex- 
 ional committee, laymen were placed in equal number with 
 ministers. He also proposed and carried the admission of 
 laymen into the District meetings, so that through his 
 legislation no matter of Connexional finance is settled by 
 the Conference ; all this being done by mixed committees, 
 and the Conference merely acting as a court of record for
 
 JABEZ BUNTING. 353 
 
 their measures." So says an English authority ; and an- 
 other author affirms that, "It is a fact but little known, 
 and, by those who have been accustomed to hear this 
 great man railed at as a priestly dictator, not even sus- 
 pected, that nearly every measure which has popularized 
 the institutions of Methodism which has given to the 
 people a more liberal representation has originated with 
 Dr. Bunting." 
 
 He has also led the way in the great educational enter- 
 prizes of Wesleyan Methodism. These are numerous, and 
 now potent in their endowment and influence. We can 
 refer to but one of them, the one at the head of which, as 
 president, he still stands, and the post at which he will 
 probably fall The "Wesleyan Theological Institute. This 
 is an interest of the denomination that he anticipated with 
 solicitude for many years, and has fostered with unremit- 
 ting care since its birth. At the very first Conference 
 held by Wesley, some such provision for the education of 
 young preachers was proposed. The proposition was 
 repeated at the next session ; it was never lost sight of by 
 the Wesleyan Conference until it stood realized in two of 
 their noblest denominational structures one at Richmond, 
 in the South ; the other at Didsbury, in the North. About 
 ten years ago the Richmond Seminary was opened with an 
 address by Dr. Bunting, which we give, though in the meager 
 outline of a newspaper report, from the London Watch- 
 man, as indicating somewhat the history of the design : 
 
 "Dr. Bunting then addressed the assemblage, in which 
 he entertained strong objections to this place being called 
 the Richmond College ; it was the Richmond INSTITUTION ; 
 to speak more diffusely, the Richmond Branch of the 
 Wesleyan Theological Institution. He hoped his excellent 
 
 23
 
 354 JABKZ BUNTING. 
 
 friends, to whom would be permanently and regularly 
 intrusted the management of the institution, and the edu- 
 cation of the young brethren, would concur with him in 
 the opinion he had just expressed. There were many 
 things implied in what was properly speaking a college, 
 which they did not aim to realize in this establishment. 
 He congratulated the friends of the institution on the 
 numerous assemblage now congregated. It was nearly a 
 hundred years ago namely, at the Conference of 1744 
 that the propriety of instituting a 'seminary,' as it was 
 then termed, was first mooted; and this institution was, 
 therefore, in principle anything but an innovation. The 
 question proposed to the Conference of 1744 was, ' Can we 
 have a seminary for labourers?' He hoped the young 
 brethren who were receiving instruction in the Theological 
 Institution would always bear this in mind, that when the 
 establishment of such an institution or seminary was first 
 suggested, it was proposed for the instruction and training 
 of 'labourers.' His young brethren must remember that 
 they were td*be ' labourers ;' and if he thought that any- 
 thing they might learn, or any habits which they might 
 acquire in that institution would unfit them for labour, or 
 disincline them to labour, he would most deeply regret its 
 establishment. But he anticipated a very different result. 
 He anticipated that, by the blessing of God upon the assid- 
 uous efforts of their tutors, they would, in this institution, 
 learn how to labour, and be strengthened in their determi- 
 nation to labour faithfully and zealously, wherever their 
 lot might be cast. He had stated that, at the Conference 
 of 1744, the question was proposed, ' Can we have a semi- 
 nary for labourers?' The answer was, 'If God spares us 
 till another Conference.' The subject was resumed at the
 
 JABEZ BUNTING. 355 
 
 next Conference, and it was asked, 'Can we have a semi- 
 nary for labourers yet? ' Not yetj was the answer; 'not 
 till God gives us a proper tutor? The want of a proper 
 tutor was the only reason assigned why an establishment 
 similar in principles and objects to this institution was not 
 made coeval with the earliest periods of Wesleyan Meth- 
 odism. At the end of a century, that which, even at the 
 early period he had referred to, was felt to be a desidera- 
 tum had now, by the providence of God, been supplied. 
 An institution had been established which, for the sake of 
 convenience, had branched into two divisions : one of those 
 branches having been opened last September, at Didsbury, 
 near Manchester, which was called the Northern Branch ; 
 and the other, or Southern Branch, being that which they 
 were now assembled, in a more formal and solemn manner 
 than had hitherto been done, to dedicate to the service of 
 God. They seemed, indeed, to have all they required, 
 except two things. They did want more money. (Hear, 
 hear.) It might be said, 'Why did you erect such an 
 expensive building as this? We cannot help doing justice 
 to the architectural merit of the building ; we must allow 
 that it is beautiful and commodious; but have you not 
 spent upon the erection of the building money which 
 might have been better applied to the support of the insti- 
 tution?' He would reply, 'No; these premises arc a, 
 present to the institution, from the Centenary Fund, by a 
 grant made for the specific purpose of such am erection / 
 and I am informed that not one farthing of the money 
 subscribed by individual friends for the support of the 
 institution for the maintenance and instruction of the 
 students will have to be appropriated to defray the cost 
 of the building. (Hear, hear.) He believed it would not
 
 356 .1ABEX BUNTING. 
 
 be necessary to trench upon any funds contributed for the 
 maintenance of the institution ; but that the sum granted 
 from the Centenary Fund would just be sufficient to defray 
 the expenses of the purchase, and of the erection of this 
 beautiful and commodious structure, which was so well 
 calculated to accomplish the monumental and commemora- 
 tive part of the various noble objects contemplated in the 
 original plan of the Centenary Fund. Since, then, they 
 had obtained such convenient accommodation and since 
 there was in the building a considerable number of stu- 
 dents, to whom he hoped more would be hereafter added 
 it now remained for them to provide means for the annual 
 support of the institution." 
 
 Dr. Bunting feels satisfied with the results of the meas- 
 ure. At the session of the British Conference in August, 
 1852, after the presentation of the usual resolutions in 
 respect to the Theological Institution, he arose, and, among 
 other things, declared "that he was more than ever con- 
 vinced that the institution was of God of God in its 
 origin, and in its progress to that state of maturity and 
 extensive usefulness which it had now reached." 
 
 Of this noble institution we give several engraved illus- 
 trations, as it is the final official responsibility of the great 
 man whom we have been describing. 
 
 Dr. Bunting, like all first-class minds, is variously great. 
 We have considered him as a preacher and as a practical 
 manager. As a debater he is esteemed without a rival 
 among his brethren. He is chary of his remarks in Con- 
 ference sessions, well knowing that frequent and unim- 
 portant speeches there are a sure forfeiture of influence, 
 as well as a vexatious embarrassment of business. He 
 seldom speaks over five minutes at a time, and then after

 
 JABEZ BUNTING. 357 
 
 most others are through, and for the purpose of concen- 
 trating the dispersed and bewildered thoughts of the body, 
 of allaying exasperated feelings, or clinching the subject 
 by some summary and conclusive argument. "When, 
 however, occasion requires it, he can enter the arena full 
 armed, and fight the combat out invariably with victory. 
 Mr. Everett, who has lately become noted as his assailant, 
 once gave the following sketch of him as a debater : 
 
 " See him : there he sits on the platform, surrounded by 
 the leading members of the Conference, his elbow on the 
 table, and his chin embedded in the palm of his hand. A 
 subject of importance being on the tapis, and the speaker 
 being low, or at a distance, the hand is speedily relieved 
 of the chin, and placed behind the ear, where it remains 
 as a substitute for a trumpet, gathering together the words, 
 while the sense which it is intended to aid drinks in the 
 sound. An occasional note is made on a slip of paper, or 
 the back of a letter, in the course of a protracted discus- 
 sion; but memory, which rarely ever fails him, is mostly 
 depended upon. Now, he is calm and dignified ; but in 
 an instant the scene is changed. The speaker has the mis- 
 fortune to oppose some favourite theory, to trench upon 
 some of the peculiarities of Methodism, or belongs to the 
 other side of the house : that moment, the eye of our 
 pleader is darted like the eye of a lynx along the line of 
 sound, and either quails or rouses the person who has 
 gained his attention. He again appears tranquil ; but it 
 is the tranquillity of a man who is pondering upon what 
 has been said. Speaker succeeds speaker, till at length 
 silence ensues, and, during the momentary pause, he 
 looks round ; but no one essaying to rise, he considers his 
 own time to have come. He loves the closing speech ;
 
 358 JABEZ BUNTING. 
 
 and now that he is on his feet, let the eye be thrown 
 around the audience, and all will be seen on the tip-toe 
 all will be still to the ear. The first feeling in operation 
 in the breasts of previous speakers, refers as much to 
 themselves as the subject; and the first thought in the 
 mind of the mere hearer, is inadvertently directed to the 
 same quarter, and is followed up with anxiety or pleasure 
 looking forward to see how it will fare with such as 
 have thus entered the arena of debate, as well as toward 
 the fate of the question in which he himself may have an 
 interest, and which absolutely hangs upon the breath, and 
 is to be decided by him upon whom every eye is now 
 fixed, as by fascination. Listen to him: he takes, per- 
 haps, at first, a dispassionate view of the general question, 
 then gives you his own opinion ; next goes on to establish 
 certain positions ; notices the remarks of previous speak- 
 er's, so far as they seem to interfere with his own senti- 
 ments ; and, lastly, proceeds to the formal reply, in which 
 he often takes upon himself the onus probandi, either 
 classifying the arguments of his opponents, or taking up 
 their objections separately, as may best suit his purpose ; 
 encircling himself all the while in a tower of strength, 
 from whose impregnable walls he nods defiance to all his 
 assailants. Very often, at a moment when a man is con- 
 gratulating himself on the probability of a happy escape, 
 or of finding his arguments valid, by a less early notice, 
 he will come down upon him in an instant, like an unex- 
 pected flash of lightning, broad and vivid, shivering to 
 pieces, by a single stroke, the whole superstructure he had 
 reared, and upon which he had long gazed with the fond- 
 ness of a parent on a favourite child compelling him at 
 the time by its glare to shrink back into himself. On
 
 .ENTRANCE HALL AND PRINCIPAL STAIRCASE.
 
 JABEZ BUNTING. 359 
 
 these occasions he can be sarcastic, solemn, playful, or 
 otherwise. But he never approaches a subject without 
 illuminating it, and rarely retires from the field without 
 conquest ; followed by the smiles of his friends, and leav- 
 ing the opposing powers in a state of suspense or blank 
 astonishment. We feel unwilling to leave this part of his 
 character, and yet we are afraid to proceed with it, owing to 
 our incompetency to do it j ustice. We have heard pleaders 
 at the bar, and statesmen in the senate, (a place, by the 
 way, which he is very fond of attending ;) but we solemnly 
 aver, that, for reply, we never heard a near approach to 
 him. His replies are like the set speeches of some of our 
 first speakers ; so full, so regular, so neat, so consecutive, 
 so pertinent, so easy, so ready! He has no set time for 
 emphasis, but rises in feeling with the importance of 
 his subject, and the people go up with him, till both 
 gain the summit of the mount, and the latter feel it diffi- 
 cult to descend again, or stoop to common things. His 
 eloquence is irresistible. Had he been brought up to the 
 bar, or been trained for the senate, he would never have 
 paused in his upward career, till he had either been pre- 
 mier or lord high chancellor; and where he is, he is a 
 king among his subjects. His presence of mind never 
 forsakes him. No man makes fewer mistakes, and he 
 never leaves an advantage unimproved. It is dangerous 
 for an adversary to slumber or be off his guard in his 
 presence. He is always awake himself, and, like the 
 famous Erskine, is as daring as he is skilful; taking 
 advantage of the least opening, and defending himself 
 with caution. His fine spirit and courage, when let 
 out, give vigour and direction to the whole, bearing 
 down all resistance. He is not like some speakers, full
 
 360 JABEZ BUNTING. 
 
 of repetition, recurring again and again to the same 
 topic or view of the subject, till he has made the impres- 
 sion complete ; he rarely goes back to the same ground, 
 which, in the language of an eminent writer, he has 
 ' utterly wasted by the tide of fire he has rolled along it.' 
 He completes his work as he goes on. He has a preter- 
 natural quickness of apprehension, which enables him to 
 see at a glance what costs other minds the labour of an 
 investigation. It is this that makes ordinary business easy 
 to him, and hence he has been heard to say that he 
 could never make what some men call speeches that his 
 were all matters of mere detail in business. He is not 
 only quick, but sure. And though he has fire, yet it is of 
 that kind that he has rarely the heat of passion to plead 
 or regret. As the head of a party, he has none of its 
 prejudices to plead, having no person to serve; and he 
 has few, if any, peculiarities of a personal character ; no 
 ' mental idiosyncrasies,' as Lord Brougham would say, to 
 indulge, which produce capricious fancies and crotchets. 
 His faculties are always unclouded and unstunted, ever to 
 be depended on; and his judgment secures him success 
 and adherents." 
 
 Aged, broken in health, afflicted with the recent fear- 
 ful convulsions of Methodism in England, Jabez Bunt- 
 ing still holds on his undeviating course. His faculties 
 are yet vigorous; he is still the great counsellor of his 
 denomination, and though incapable of moving to and fro 
 in its field as he has for more than half a century, he is 
 nevertheless still its guiding mind.

 
 WE have given, in the preceding pages, sketches of distin- 
 guished men in various fields of Methodism Wesley, 
 Fletcher, and Bunting in England Garrettson, Emory, 
 Levings, and Olin in the middle American Conferences 
 Roberts and M'Kendree in the West Hedding, Pick- 
 ering, and Fisk in the East. In presenting these indi- 
 vidual examples, we have been aware how many noble 
 names are omitted, and have wished that our space 
 would allow a fuller representation of each, if it had 
 even to be in an aggregate form. The beautiful and 
 remarkably truthful plate, which we here insert, enables 
 us to do so in respect to New-England, with the hope that 
 in some subsequent volume we may find it possible to 
 represent, in similar manner, other divisions of our great 
 evangelical field. 
 
 The engraving is a very accurate representation of the 
 interior of the old Bromfield-street Church, Boston a 
 locale of sanctified reminiscences to Eastern Methodists. 
 The scene is now entirely transformed ; it has given place 
 to one of the noblest chapels of American Methodism ; but 
 no one who worshipped within the old structure will ever 
 forget, amid the modernized and beautiful conveniences of 
 the new one, the precious associations of those days when
 
 362 THE OLD NEW-ENGLAND CONFERENCE. 
 
 Hedding, Pickering, Merritt, Mudge, Kibby, Brodhead, 
 Fillmore, Lindsay, and others of the old Legio Fulminea, 
 thundered from its pulpit. It has been the most powerful 
 battery of Methodism in New-England occupied by its 
 most powerful evangelists, and the gathering place of its 
 most powerful corps of membership. 
 
 The portraits in the engraving are mostly correct like- 
 nesses remarkably accurate if we consider the diminished 
 scale upon which they are presented. TIMOTHY MEJRRITT, 
 one of the intellectual champions of the denomination, 
 stands in the pulpit. He was a thoroughly devoted man, 
 and though now crumbling in the dust of the sepulchre, 
 his influence is still felt through New-England, especially 
 among such as are personally interested in that great dis- 
 tinction of our theology, the doctrine of Christian Perfec- 
 tion a favourite theme of his pen and his preaching. 
 Some of his literary works have taken permanent rank in 
 our Book-Concern Catalogue. Take him all in all, he was, 
 perhaps, in his day, the foremost man in the New-England 
 Methodist ministry ; wise in counsel, powerful in the pul- 
 pit, formidable in controversy, holy in life. 
 
 Beside him sits GEOEGE PICKERING, whose features will 
 compare well with those of the larger engraving, given else- 
 where in this volume. His attitude, even to the position 
 of the hands, will be recalled by those who have seen him 
 in the old Bromfield-street pulpit. DK. FISK is address- 
 ing the Conference at the foot of the pulpit-stairs. The 
 artist has somewhat idealized his head and features, but 
 not more so than the English painter in the larger like- 
 ness given with our sketch of him. In the present instance 
 the outline of his person is accurately given, even to the 
 old clerical style of dress, which he did not disdain to copy
 
 THE OLD NEW-ENGLAND CONFERENCE. 363 
 
 from the fathers of our ministry. At his left sits the vener- 
 able HEDDING, with somewhat longer hair and less corru- 
 gated features than in our larger engraving, but not the 
 less truthful for the time at which the portrait was taken. 
 Many of his friends, who recollect his appearance at that 
 earlier period, will prefer this more genial face to the later 
 and more time-worn expression. He was the favourite 
 bishop of the men with whom he is surrounded, having 
 been their candidate at the time of his election, and for 
 many years resident among them. He sits in their pres- 
 ence as among his brethren, tranquil and beloved. The 
 later scenes of strife, so much lamented, though now passed, 
 had not yet marred his and their brows. 
 
 DANIEL FLLLMORE sits at the table as secretary, an 
 office which he honourably sustained for many years in 
 the old New-England Conference. He had been Hed- 
 ding's associate in the Bromfield-street charge, and saw 
 both the dark day and the day of deliverance to Boston 
 Methodism. Preeminent in that " meekness of wisdom" 
 which is commended in the Scriptures, ever kindly and 
 cordial with his brethren, of persuasive talents in the pul- 
 pit, and unusual capacity for the labours and difficult 
 offices of the pastor, he has served the Church through 
 many years with an unblemished name and unfaltering 
 integrity. 
 
 First on his left is seen the ample brow of the venerable 
 BRODHEAD, one of the founders of New-England Method- 
 ism, and during a part of his life well-known to the country 
 as a member of Congress. The Boston Post said at the 
 time of his death : 
 
 " Possessing naturally a strong mind, warm affections, 
 and an imposing person, he was a popular as well as an
 
 364 THE OLD NEW-ENGLAND CONFERENCE. 
 
 able and pious preacher ; and probably no man in New- 
 England had more personal friends, or could exercise a 
 more widely-extended influence. He was repeatedly elect- 
 ed to the Senate of his adopted State, and to Congress, yet 
 was always personally averse to taking office ; and though 
 he spoke but seldom on political subjects, the soundness of 
 his judgment, and the known purity of his life, gave much 
 weight to his opinions. In the early days of his ministry 
 he endured almost incredible fatigue and hardship in car- 
 rying the glad tidings of the gospel to remote settlements, 
 often swimming rivers on horseback, and preaching in his 
 clothes saturated with water, till he broke down a naturally 
 robust constitution, and laid the foundation of disease, 
 which affected him more or less during his after life. In 
 his last days, the gospel, which he had so long and so faith- 
 fully preached to others, was the never-failing support of 
 his own mind. To a brother clergyman who inquired of 
 him, a short time before his death, how he was, he said : 
 ' The old vessel is a wreck, but I trust in God the cargo is 
 safe!'" 
 
 As a preacher, he possessed more than ordinary talents ; 
 his clear understanding, combined with quick sensibilities 
 and a vivid imagination, could not but render him eloquent 
 on the themes of religion. He was partial to the benigner 
 topics of the gospel, and often would his congregations and 
 himself melt into tears under the inspiration of his subjects. 
 "When he treated on the divine denunciations of sin, it was 
 with a solemnity, and at times with an awful grandeur, that 
 overwhelmed his hearers. " I heard him," says a veteran 
 of our ministry, " when I was a young man, preach on the 
 Last Judgment, in Bromfield-street chapel, on a Sabbath 
 evening, and if the terrible reality had occurred that night
 
 THE OLD NEW-ENGLAND CONFERENCE. 365 
 
 its impression could hardly have been more awfully alarm- 
 ing." At such times, " seeing the terror of the Lord," he 
 persuaded men with a resistless eloquence, his large person 
 and noble countenance seemed to dilate with the majesty 
 of his thoughts, and he stood forth before the awe-struck 
 assembly with the authority of an ambassador of Christ. 
 
 At the right of Brodhead, the benign face of ENOCH 
 MUDGE will be recognised by his old hearers a man 
 dearly beloved by New-England as the first Methodist 
 preacher raised up within her bounds, an honour which 
 has the signal peculiarity that it can never be impaired 
 can never be shared by another. He was small in stature, 
 stoutly framed, with a full ruddy face, a noble phrenologi- 
 cal development, abundant but silvered hair, a kindliness 
 of manner that insinuated cordial feelings into the rudest- 
 heart in his company, and an eloquence, in the pulpit, 
 always fresh and winning. He braved heroically the first 
 and hardest battles of Methodism, pursuing his itinerant 
 career in Maine, Massachusetts, Rhode Island, and Con- 
 necticut, and died at last amid the benedictions of all the 
 Eastern Church. 
 
 In manners, he would have been a befitting companion 
 for St. John. The spirit of Christian charity imbued him ; 
 hopefulness, cheerfulness, entire reliance on God, confidence 
 in his friends, extreme care to give no offence, and a felici- 
 tous relish of the reliefs and comforts of green old age, 
 were among his marked characteristics. He was distin- 
 guished by fine pulpit qualifications fertility of thought, 
 a warmth of feeling without extravagance, a peculiar rich- 
 ness of illustration, and a manner always self-possessed, and 
 marked by the constitutional amenity of his temper. None 
 were ever wearied under his discourses. He published a
 
 366 THE OLD NEW-ENGLAND CONFERENCE. 
 
 volume of excellent sermons for mariners, and many poetical 
 pieces of more than ordinary merit. 
 
 At the right of Mudge stands the veteran ASA KENT, 
 who still survives one of the few remaining members of 
 that corps of strong men who laid the foundations of our 
 cause in the New-England States. He is small in person ; 
 his face bears the marks of extreme years, and he totters 
 on the verge of the grave ; but his faculties retain a re- 
 markable degree of vigour, as his occasional writings in our 
 periodicals show. His memory is a store-house of old 
 Methodistic reminiscences, and our historical writers owe 
 much to his recollections and sound judgment. Yermont, 
 Massachusetts, and Rhode Island have been the principal 
 fields of his labour. He shared the severest conflicts of our 
 cause in the former, and is a living history of the Church 
 in that State. The great peculiarities of Methodism are 
 with him, as with most of our early preachers, very pre- 
 cious. " I believe," he says, in a letter once addressed to 
 the writer of this article, " I believe the Lord cleansed my 
 soul from sin more than forty years ago. I have not 
 steadily enjoyed the witness of it; but, for nearly that 
 time, have seen no terrors in death or the grave. The doc- 
 trine of holiness is my comfort and joy, and I hope, through 
 mercy, to dwell with God forever, as a sinner saved by 
 grace ; even so. Amen." 
 
 In about the centre of the pews JOSEPH A. MEKEILL will 
 be recognised, with his face turned toward the spectator. 
 His name has become quite familiar in the New-England 
 Conference, not only from his own long connexion with it, 
 but also by the number of worthy sons whom his careful 
 training has, under God, given to the ministry. He was a 
 " strong man " a good, sound preacher, unshakable in his
 
 THE OLD NEW-ENGLAND CONFERENCE. 367 
 
 adhesion to the great principles of Methodism, a persever- 
 ing labourer in many hard fields, the associate of Kuter 
 and Fisk in the early struggles of the Church for educa- 
 tional institutions, and a man of unusual sagacity and 
 skill in the practical management of public affairs. His 
 frame was large, though not corpulent, his head amply 
 developed, and his features regular. 
 
 On his left sits EBENEZER F. NEWELL, another of the 
 survivors of the first battles of the Church in the East. 
 His labours have been chiefly in Vermont, Maine, and 
 Massachusetts. His memoirs have been published; they 
 are very entertainingly characteristic, and full of illustra- 
 tions of the hardships and triumphs of our primitive preach- 
 ers. Mr. Newell is remarkable for his exceeding amiability, 
 the warmth of his religious sympathies, his ready conver- 
 sational powers, and the many interesting recollections of 
 the " old times " with which his conversation is enlivened. 
 
 Behind him, and in the adjacent right-hand pew, sits 
 THOMAS C. PIERCE, a man well-beloved, especially in Yer- 
 mont and Massachusetts, where he laboured faithfully and 
 with much success through a long life. He was slight in 
 person and infirm in health, but always abounding in the 
 work of the Lord. He had good talents, a rare aptness 
 in the illustration of truth, a persuasive, winning manner 
 in his discourse, and was an unusually successful pastor. 
 He lived a good working life, and died well, leaving a 
 name in the Church that is as ointment poured forth. 
 
 To the left of Mr. Pierce, and closely behind him, are 
 seen the full and kindly features of ABRAHAM D. MERRILL, 
 who still lives and labours in the New-England Conference. 
 He is large in person, with a capacious head, ample fea- 
 tures, and a voice of music, which he not unfrequently uses
 
 368 THE OLD NEW-ENGLAND CONFERENCE. 
 
 with the force of a trumpet; for, though a Jeremiah in 
 pathos, he is also known in the Church as a son of thun- 
 der. His talents are good, his appeals sometimes over- 
 whelming ; and he is, in fine, what every preacher of the 
 gospel should be, a " revivalist." 
 
 At his right, in the same pew with Thomas C. Pierce, 
 sits EPAPHRAS KJBBY, one of the strong men among " the 
 giants of those days" when Methodism had to advance 
 amid continual conflicts. Fifty-five years ago he entered 
 the itinerancy; he lingers still among his brethren with 
 erect form and vigorous faculties, but disabled strength. 
 He saw the great battles and the triumphs of our cause in 
 Maine, at the beginning of the century. He was one of 
 the most powerful and popular of our early preachers in 
 Boston. He formed the first Methodist Society in the city 
 of New-Bedford. Mr. Kibby is tall and slight in person, 
 extremely neat in dress, and venerable with age. His 
 talents were of a very superior order. His imagination 
 furnished him with vivid illustrations, always abundant, 
 chaste, and appropriate. His reasoning was strikingly per- 
 spicuous, direct, and conclusive, his language remarkable 
 for both elegance and force. Though he never used notes 
 in the pulpit, yet a large portion of his sermons were fully 
 written the cause, probably, of that rich and correct dic- 
 tion which so eminently characterized even his impromptu 
 addresses. He has been a fond lover of good literature, 
 and abounds in general knowledge. His judgment has 
 always been cautious and safe, his zeal steady and effective, 
 his attachment to the doctrines and economy of Methodism 
 unwavering amid many calls and temptations to more 
 comfortable stations in other communions. Without am- 
 bition or pretension, he attained to a rare popularity as a
 
 THE OLD NEW-ENGLAND CONFERENCE. 369 
 
 preacher in the days of his vigour. He has accomplished 
 distinguished service in the Church, and is endeared to it, 
 in most of New-England, by precious recollections. 
 
 Near Mr. Kibby, at the head of the pew in front of him, 
 sits ISAAC BONNET, another of the veterans still remain- 
 ing among his brethren, though unable to share their 
 labours. Shaken by more than threescore and ten years, 
 and nearly half a century of itinerant life, he has retired 
 into the superannuate ranks, where, however, he is not 
 forgotten, but enjoys not only the respect, but the love of 
 his many friends. 
 
 He has been distinguished by modest worth, a pure 
 exemplariness of life, an indisposition to accept the prefer- 
 ments of honour or place among his brethren, a sound but 
 unpretending piety, a discriminating judgment, good pulpit 
 ability, and success in his labours. Isaac Bonney is, in 
 fine, one of those modest but genuine men, who are prized 
 immeasurably more by discerning minds among their 
 friends than they are by themselves, and whose associates 
 learn to value them higher as they know them better. 
 He is an example of our primitive ministry which the 
 future historian of Methodism will commemorate with 
 pleasure. 
 
 Not far oif EDWARD T. TAYLOR stands, with folded arms, 
 in the aisle. He is noted through the country as an 
 original, both in character and talents an orator, sui 
 generis a wit overflowing with humour a man of strong 
 sense, of deep pathos, of the freshest poetic thought a 
 powerful preacher a gentleman, even to gracefulness, in 
 manners a murderer of the queen's English, and, best 
 known as " the mariner's preacher of Boston." 
 
 Immediately behind Mr. Taylor sits DAVID KILBURN.
 
 THE OLD NEW-ENGLAND CONFEKENCE. 
 
 He has seen about threescore years and ten, and has spent 
 nearly half a century in the ministerial work in almost all 
 the New-England States. His preaching has been accom- 
 panied with good sense and the unction from above. His 
 frame is large, his head well developed, his features full 
 and benevolent, and many are the seals to his ministry. 
 
 Such are a few, and only a few, of the men of note who 
 belonged to the old New-England Conference before its 
 division into its present half-dozen sections. They and 
 their coadjutors had the hardest field of Methodism in the 
 nation ; they have made it the best, in the estimation of 
 many, and all will admit it to be, at least, among the best. 
 The growth of the Church within the Eastern States has not 
 only been great, numerically and morally, but in all those 
 material provisions which give security and permanence to 
 a denomination in good and well-located chapels, literary 
 institutions, &c. it is probably before any other portion 
 of our common cause. One honour, at least, will be con- 
 ceded it ; it has had greater difficulties to overcome than 
 any other portion of the denomination, and has fully con- 
 quered them. Its success is a common honour to us all.
 
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