FIRST ANNUAL TOUR WITH BISHOP ASBURY, 1808.
Bishop Asbury had a number of traveling companions: Edward Bailey, Hope
Hull, Nicholas Snethen, Sylvester Hutchinson, Thomas Morrell, Jesse Lee,
Daniel Hitt, Joseph Crawford, and others. Some were among our ablest men.
Snethen Mr. Asbury called his “silver trumpet;” Hope Hull was a prince
among orators; Morrell was dignified, wise in counsel; Hutchinson a son
of thunder; Jesse Lee shrewd, ever knowing how and when to answer a fool
according to his folly; but I have no space to notice the characteristics
of each. After my term of service expired he had two others travel with
him: John C. French, and John W. Bond, brother to the late Thomas E.
Bond, M.D., so well known as the editor of the _Christian Advocate and
Journal_.
The General Conference of 1800, on motion of Thomas Morrell, resolved
“that Mr. Asbury be authorized to take with him an elder through any
part or all his travels.” Mr. Morrell had been the traveling companion
of Mr. Asbury, and he knew how much the venerable patriarch needed one.
Previously elders had traveled with him at his own request, but from
that time it was done by the authority of the General Conference.
This year was an era in my ministerial life. I was no longer confined to
a small circuit, but traveled with the bishop around his large diocese.
Though my name in the Minutes for 1808 stands as Pennsylvania missionary,
I was there only a few weeks previous to the General Conference; the rest
of the year I was traveling with Bishop Asbury. My new field of labor
was a splendid school for a young minister, and he must have been a dull
scholar that did not learn important lessons. It enlarged my knowledge of
the country, of the Church, and of her ministers.
The venerable Asbury was sixty-three years old when I began to travel
with him. Having been greatly exposed, he was feeble, and suffered from
many infirmities. I traveled with him much longer than any of his other
companions, and have survived them all many years.
John Wesley Bond, who traveled with him last, has been dead forty-seven
and Bishop Asbury fifty years.
By agreement I was to meet the bishop at Perry Hall, Md., on June 5,
where he was to preach the funeral sermon of Harry Dorsey Gough, and then
we were to proceed on our western tour. I took leave of my aged mother
with tears, and my father accompanied me for some distance. On our way
we came to a camp-meeting that commenced on June 3, near Salem Chapel,
under the care of Dr. Chandler. Jesse Lee was at this camp-meeting in all
his glory, and preached three powerful sermons.
On Monday morning I had a most affecting parting with my father. He loved
me as Jacob did Joseph, for I was the son of his old age. I did not
reach Perry Hall till June 7, two days later than I was expected, having
lingered at the camp-meeting. I found Mrs. Gough in all the loneliness of
widowhood. She treated me very kindly.
As I was not there at the time, I supposed the bishop would wait till
I arrived; but when I reached Perry Hall I found he had left the day
before. He never waited for any man, and he wanted no man to wait for
him. His motto was, “The king’s business requires haste.”
Perry Hall was the most splendid mansion I had ever seen. There was
beauty, elegance, and magnificence. It contrasted strangely with the
little cottages and uncomfortable places where I had sometimes put up.
Mr. Gough had inherited a large estate from England, and he built Perry
Hall for his residence in the summer. It was twelve miles from Baltimore,
on the Bel Air Road.
Mr. Gough was fortunate in his marriage. His wife, Prudence, was a
sister of General Ridgeley, who was afterward governor of Maryland. She
was rightly named, for she was a very prudent woman. Mrs. Gough was
first awakened by hearing the Methodists preach, and her proud husband
forbid her hearing them again. However, he went to hear Mr. Asbury more
out of curiosity than anything else. The sword of the Spirit was very
sharp that evening, and the proud sinner was cut to the heart. On the
way home one said, “What a heap of nonsense we have heard to-night!” To
his astonishment Mr. Gough replied, “No; we have heard the truth as it
is in Jesus.” He hastened home and said to his beloved Prudence, “My
dear, I shall never hinder you again from hearing the Methodists.” This
was joyful intelligence for her. They were both converted under Bishop
Asbury, were his lifetime friends, lived holy lives, and died triumphant
deaths. The Rev. Thomas B. Sargent, D.D., married a descendant of this
family.
The next day I overtook Bishop Asbury at James M’Cannon’s at Pipe
Creek.[16] We also went to visit the widow of Rev. Henry Willis, and his
aged mother. The bishop kissed and encircled in his arms the six orphan
children of his departed friend, and blessed them in the name of the
Lord, and prayed with them. Henry Willis had died but a few weeks before,
and this was Bishop Asbury’s first visit to the lonely family after their
bereavement. The bishop went out and wept at the new-made grave of his
friend. Henry Willis was one of the noblest men of Methodism. He was
universally beloved and universally lamented.[17]
While at Pipe Creek I saw the old log meeting house built by Robert
Strawbridge, the first Methodist preaching house erected in Maryland.
It was then in a dilapidated state, and used for a barn. What wonderful
interests cluster around this humble edifice!
We commenced our tour westward. The roads were rough, the weather
excessively hot, and the bishop very feeble, and yet on he would go, and
at almost every stopping-place would preach. It was his element, his
life; he could not live long without. He makes this mournful record: “I
begin to fail.” Dear old man! He had endured enough to kill many strong
men, and now he makes the discovery that he has _begun_ to fail. Old men
are not generally willing to admit this; gray hairs are upon them, and
they do not know it. What an era it is in a man’s history when he is
conscious he is failing!
After visiting a number of places and preaching every day we began to
climb the Alleghany Mountains. It was a most tedious ride, especially for
the aged and infirm bishop. Can we wonder he wrote thus: “I have suffered
much. I am pained and sore, and poor Jane stumbled so often; but my
limbs and my soul are safe. Glory! glory!”
We were thirty-nine hours crossing the mountains. Five years before I
went with Mr. Asbury to the top of the Alleghanies, and then returned to
preach to the Germans; but now I have crossed this nature’s monument.
It was seventy miles over the mountains by the crooked paths we had to
travel. I wrote thus in my journal: “There were few houses, plenty of
stones, rocks, and hills, and springs of water and brooks; but the best
of all, the rock which cheered the Israelites in the wilderness was with
us while traveling under the rays of the scorching sun. My soul, praise
Jesus!” We passed over several mountain ridges of stupendous magnitude.
The grandeur of the natural scenery was indeed a subject of admiration.
On the other side of the mountain we rested in the hospitable mansion
of Jacob Murphy. On Sunday Mr. Asbury preached at Uniontown, Pa., on
“Converting a sinner from the error of his way.” This is said to be the
place where the first conference was held west of the Alleghanies. Here
also I preached at our host’s from Prov. x, 28. The first ordination
among the Methodists west of the mountains took place here.
The next day was the Fourth of July, and although the bishop and I were
both patriotic, and lovers of freedom, we spent, as he expresses it, “_a
solitary Fourth of July_” at Widow Henthorn’s. The bishop always planned
his work far ahead, and when he came to a conference he had but to carry
out his plan. That day he drafted conference plans as far as Baltimore,
and the next day, besides reading Thomas à Kempis, he copied off a list
of preachers for the western and southern conferences. It was method that
enabled the great Asbury to accomplish so much.
The bishop writes: “Brother Boehm spoke to the people in English and
German.” Rheumatism troubled the old gentleman, and the incessant rain
for four days kept him a prisoner, and he found the confinement irksome.
Here we saw Edward Dromgoole, one of the early preachers. He joined at
the third conference, 1775. He was now returning from the West, and he
gave a flaming description of the camp-meetings that had been held there.
We journeyed on to Connellsville. Here we had a new house of worship, or
rather a part of one. The bishop preached and dedicated the walls of the
church, for at that time it was roofless. I held forth in German. This I
did in almost every place. The next day we went to the splendid mansion
of Colonel Mason, and were entertained like princes.
During this route the bishop suffered all but martyrdom. He was
exceedingly lame, his feet being greatly inflamed, and he had been
blistered; and yet he would press on amid the intense heat of July, that
almost overcame him.
We met Asa Shinn, author of “Shinn on Salvation.” He was a man of
splendid talents; an excellent metaphysician. The bishop conversed with
him about being removed to Baltimore. Mr. Shinn finally went off with
the Reformers, and died deranged in an asylum. It is supposed his deep
studying had much to do with unbalancing his mind; but at one time he was
a mighty man in our Israel.
It was pitiful to see the old bishop hobbling on his crutches into church
at Brownsville on Sabbath July 17. There, like his Master, he sat down
and preached. His subject was God’s design in sending his Son into the
world.
The next day we rode to John Brightwell’s. The bishop says: “I had an
awfully severe ride. I am fairly arrested in my course. My knees and
feet are so disabled that I am lifted to bed. I can neither ride, stand,
nor walk.” What a painful record! And what does the reader think of his
companion, who had to lift the bishop out of bed, bathe his limbs, dress
his blisters, and nurse him like a child. I left him for a while and went
to fill his appointments, while the family kindly took care of him.
For a week there is no record made in his journal. He was unable to
write a line. But I kept an account of each day. After filling several
appointments during the week, I went to Pittsburgh to fill the
appointment of the bishop there. I lodged at Brother Wrenshall’s, a local
preacher. He was an Englishman, of excellent education and fine mind.
He preached a great deal, and preached well, and helped give tone and
character to Methodism in that section.
There were few Methodists in Pittsburgh, and they had no house of
worship, so I preached in the Court-house to about a thousand people who
had come out to hear the bishop and saw but a plain German youth from
their own State. They listened with attention while I expounded Matt.
v, 20. In the afternoon I preached in the jury-room, in German, to one
hundred hearers, from Acts x, 35. Some felt the weight of truth. Thus for
the benefit of the Germans in Pittsburgh I preached the Gospel in their
own vernacular fifty-seven years ago. Then, at six o’clock, in Brother
Wrenshall’s door-yard, I preached “deliverance to the captives.” This was
my first visit to Pittsburgh, a place so full of historic interest. And
here, for the first time, I beheld the Ohio. In after years I became very
familiar with it by crossing it so frequently with the pioneer bishop.
Leaving Pittsburgh, I returned to see how the bishop was getting on. I
was accompanied by Betsy Farley and her son-in-law. She was the daughter
of Edward Bailey, an excellent man, and one of Bishop Asbury’s traveling
companions. He died in October 1780, when on a tour with the bishop, and
here, eighteen years afterward, was one of his daughters traveling many
miles to see the bishop to converse with him about her father. On Tuesday
we reached Brother Brightwell’s, the bishop’s host, and to our great joy
we found him much better.
Mr. Asbury makes this entry: “How am I honored! Thornton Fleming paid me
a visit, and with him came Mrs. Hebert and a daughter of Edward Bailey
of Amherst, Virginia. These dear souls came sixty miles to see me. I
suppose I must get a four-wheeled carriage. Wednesday was a serious day,
but prepare to move we must; pain and death are nothing when opposed to
duty.” This is a noble sentiment of a noble man.
I wrote thus in my journal: “Thursday, 28, past human expectation we
started for West Liberty, crossed the Monongahela at Freeport, then to
Mr. Thomas M’Faddin’s, Washington, a little before night, very wet on my
part and very full of pain on the part of Father Asbury. The family were
exceeding kind.” Is it not marvelous that the old sick man should travel
in the rain under such circumstances? What but love for the Church and
for souls could have induced him?
On Friday we reached John Beck’s. This was one of the homes that Bishop
Asbury prized very highly. There was quite a society here, and John
Beck was the class-leader. He has long since gone to Paradise, but his
descendants are Methodists, and they have preserved the old chair in
which Bishop Asbury used to sit, and the old chest on which James Quinn
sat when he was converted; for this was his spiritual birthplace. It was
a famous place in Methodism; one of its early strongholds in this part of
the country. Mr. Beck was from Kent County, Maryland.
We left John Beck’s and were entertained at Major Samuel M’Colloch’s. He
and his brother John were celebrated in the annals of Indian warfare.
He it was who, when pursued by the Indians, made that terrible leap of
three hundred feet down a precipice with his horse into the river, and
thus mercifully escaped out of their murderous hands. The leap of General
Putnam at Horseneck was nothing compared with this. He was an excellent
member of the Methodist Church, and his house was one of the choice homes
where the bishop and other preachers were made welcome. His father was
originally from New Jersey, and one of the early pioneers of the West.
At Wheeling Bishop Asbury preached in the Court-house from Heb. ii, 2, 3,
on the great salvation and the danger of neglecting it. We had no house
of worship there at that time. We were kindly entertained by Colonel
Ebenezer Zane, one of the earliest settlers in the West. I was highly
delighted, as well as the bishop, to hear Mr. Zane and his wife (who
was a sister of Samuel and John M’Colloch) relate the thrilling scenes
through which they had passed, and their hair-breadth escapes from wild
beasts and from the murderous savages. She told us about the siege of
the fort, and how she was engaged in running bullets which the men fired
at the Indians who were thirsting for their blood. Mr. Zane was a great
hunter, a man of noble deeds and noble daring, and his history, if fully
written, would be equal to that of Daniel Boone of Kentucky.
Zanesville, Ohio, was named after Colonel Zane. He was not a Methodist,
but a great friend to our people. Mrs. Zane joined the Methodists in
1785, under Wilson Lee. Her cabin was early opened for preaching, and she
made the ministers very welcome. She was a Christian heroine, an honor to
her sex and to the Church.
We left Wheeling and the Zane family, and entered Ohio. That State, so
rich and flourishing now, was then in its infancy, being a child only
six years old. To my great joy Bishop Asbury’s health was improving,
and we rode one hundred and thirteen miles to a camp-meeting at Rush
Creek. Camp-meetings were numerous then, and attended with great success.
They were not merely for visiting or pastime, but to save souls. Their
character in some parts of the county has greatly changed. We had four
sermons a day. On Sunday John Sale, then in his palmy days, preached
early in the morning; Bishop Asbury followed at eleven; and I, at three
o’clock, gave a sermon in English, and concluded in German. There was
considerable of a move, many convicted crying for mercy. We then went to
Chilicothe, and were the guests of Dr. Edward Tiffin.
On Thursday, August 11, in compliance with an invitation, we visited
General Thomas Worthington, one of the candidates for governor. Dr.
Tiffin married his sister Mary, a woman of remarkable sweetness and
loveliness. The general was a very fine man, and was elected to the
governorship. He resided in a splendid mansion called Mount Prospect Hall.
Mr. Asbury felt keenly the loss of the general’s sister. He went to her
grave and sighed there, and made the following record: “Within sight of
this beautiful mansion lies the precious dust of Mary Tiffin. It was
as much as I could do to forbear weeping as I mused over her speaking
grave. How mutely eloquent! Ah, the world knows little of my sorrows;
little know how dear to me are my many friends, and how deeply I feel
their loss; but they all die in the Lord, and this shall comfort me.
I delivered my soul here. May this dear family feel an answer to Mary
Tiffin’s prayers.”
On our tour in 1811 we visited Governor Worthington, and he requested
the bishop to write an appropriate inscription for the tombstone of his
sister. He took his pen and wrote this: “And Mary hath chosen that good
part that shall not be taken away from her.” These words are upon the
tombstone of that excellent woman. Who would not exclaim,
“O that I could forever sit
With Mary at the Master’s feet!
Be this my happy choice,” etc.
On Friday, 12th, we attended a camp-meeting at Deer Creek. There were
twenty-three preachers, traveling and local, and about two thousand
people on the ground, and a multitude of tents; and some people put up in
their covered wagons.
This camp-meeting was near White Brown’s, and we were entertained by him.
He was a noble man, a sterling Methodist. He was a nephew of Thomas White
of Delaware. Asbury used to preach at White Brown’s on the Peninsula in
Maryland as early as 1779. He emigrated to Ohio in the early part of this
century.
Mr. Asbury delighted to put up with his old friend, whom he had known
in the East, and with whom he had had an unbroken friendship for nearly
forty years.
Several sermons of great pathos and power were preached on the ground.
One of the most remarkable was by Dr. Tiffin, ex-governor of Ohio, from
“What is a man profited,” etc. The doctor threw his whole soul into it as
he dwelt upon the soul’s immense value and its amazing loss, and the fact
that nothing can compensate for such a loss. His appeals to the heart and
conscience were almost irresistible. His voice was musical, his gestures
were rapid, and his countenance expressed all his tongue uttered. There
was a mighty work among the people during the day, and it continued all
night.
On Sunday morning John Sale, presiding elder of the Ohio District,
preached from Psalm xlv, 13. He was an able preacher and a good
disciplinarian. He had much natural dignity, and was remarkably
courteous. He had a fine form, intelligent countenance, and a dark eye
that was very expressive.
The bishop preached at eleven o’clock, and Dr. Monnett gave an eloquent
discourse immediately after from Psalm cxviii, 15, 16, “The voice of
rejoicing and salvation is in the tabernacles of the righteous,” etc. In
the evening Benjamin Lakin preached on Christian purity from 2 Cor. vii,
1. Over forty were converted beside the witnesses of perfect love.
Deer Creek was the first circuit traveled by Henry B. Bascom when he was
a stripling.
On Tuesday the 16th we journeyed twenty-three miles to the edge of the
prairies. We tarried at the “New Purchase” with a hospitable family
named Wood, who had emigrated from Pennsylvania.[18] The next morning
at six o’clock we were on our journey, and rode eighteen miles through
the prairies. The bishop and I must have been talking about the prairies,
for in our journals on that day we both make a similar record. He says:
“The prairies have once been, I suppose, lakes of water; they furnish
grand and beautiful views still.” I wrote: “We rode through the prairies,
which, from their appearance, must have been covered with large lakes or
ponds; now they furnish extensive ranges for stock.”
On Wednesday we passed through Xenia to Frederick Bonner’s, at Little
Miami. This was one of the great families of Methodism in the West, one
of the bishop’s excellent homes, and they looked for his annual visit as
they would for an angel’s. Here we rested one day. Brother Bonner was an
early friend of Rev, Freeborn Garrettson, and knew him from the time he
began to preach. He was a Methodist in Maryland before he emigrated to
Ohio. John Sale married a daughter of Frederick Bonner.
The bishop was satisfied that he crossed the Alleghany Mountains at
the wrong time of the year. He not only talked about it, but made this
singular record: “I have more than once put the wrong foot foremost in
my journeys to the West: the spring will not do because of wet and deep
and dismal roads; the summer’s extreme heat, and the small green flies,
make disagreeable traveling. I make a decree, but not of the Medes and
Persians, never in future to cross the mountains before the first of
September, nor leave Carlisle before the first of October.”
On Friday we were the guests of Rev. John Sale, who at one time had
almost the whole state of Ohio for his district.
On Sunday the bishop preached at Xenia Court-house on Col. i, 28, “Whom
we preach.” There were about five hundred to hear him. I tried to clinch
the nail the bishop had been driving. We went to Peter Pelham’s, another
of the bishop’s choice homes, where he delighted to rest his weary head.
This was a most respectable family. They had emigrated to Ohio from Old
Virginia.
This night we were very unfortunate, for our horses were lost and in the
morning could not be found. Our appointments were out in advance, and the
people must not be disappointed, so we borrowed horses and on we went to
Samuel Hitt’s, (brother of Daniel,) and then to Widow Smith’s, where the
bishop preached. By the time he had finished his discourse our horses
were there. Brothers Sale and Pelham had gone in pursuit of them, found
them, and then brought them to us.
On the 26th we went to the house of Rev. Philip Gatch, one of the
bishop’s famous homes. A camp-meeting was held there, and the bishop was
delighted to greet many of his old friends whose society he greatly
enjoyed. The meeting was attended by the mighty power of God, and over
fifty were converted; but I was suffering so with inflammation in my
eyes that I did not attend till Sabbath. I spoke to the crowd in German.
I must have looked comical enough, for I had a blister behind each ear,
and a bandage around my head and over my eyes. Immediately after my
exhortation the bishop preached to two thousand people. On Monday evening
I preached in German at Brother Gatch’s house. The family were very kind
to me, and I parted invoking the blessing of God to rest upon them.
These noble families I have mentioned emigrated from Virginia and
Maryland, which were slave states, to Ohio, a free state. They abominated
slavery and slave soil, and they emancipated their slaves before they
left for Ohio. This I had from their own lips. All honor to their memory
for their noble deeds! At that day we preached against holding human
beings in bondage. I did it early on the Peninsula, as my journal will
show.
On Friday, September 2, we reached Cincinnati, and were the guests of
Brother Lines. This is a family given to hospitality, and therefore
deserving of grateful remembrance. Cincinnati was first settled by
emigrants from New England and New Jersey. At the time of our visit it
was a small village of less than two thousand inhabitants.
The first Methodist sermon in Cincinnati was preached in an upper room
to twelve hearers, in 1804, by Rev. John Collins. The next who preached
there was John Sale, who organized a society of eight persons, just as
many as were in the ark. The first Methodist chapel was erected in 1806,
and was built of stone. In this church the bishop and I both preached.
He gave an admirable sermon in the morning from 2 Cor. v, 14, “For the
love of Christ constraineth us,” etc., and then called on me to preach
immediately after in the German language. I did so from John i, 11, 12,
“He came unto his own and his own received him not.” This is believed
to be the first sermon preached in Cincinnati in the German language;
certainly it was the first Methodist sermon in that tongue. In the
afternoon Brother Lakin preached from Luke xvi, 8; and I again in the
evening, in English.
I made this record in my journal: “The house was crowded both day and
night; there is a good prospect in this town for a revival of religion.”
This record was made fifty-seven years ago. Was it prophetic? How strange
it sounds now to speak of “the Queen City of the West” as “this town.”
Bishop Asbury advised the society to enlarge their house of worship, and
to invite the Western Conference to hold its next session there. They did
so, and the invitation was accepted.
On Tuesday we left Cincinnati, accompanied by Brother and Sister Lakin.
We put up in Lawrenceburgh, in the Indiana territory, with Elijah
Sparks. He had moved from Maryland, and was a brother of Robert Sparks.
Elijah was a local preacher and a lawyer. The Indiana territory was
then one vast wilderness. The bishop said: “In this wild there may be
twenty thousand souls already. I feel for them.” How would his great soul
rejoice if he could return to that territory and see a rich populous
state teeming with inhabitants and four flourishing annual conferences!
In what Mr. Asbury called “that wild” there are now one million three
hundred and fifty thousand inhabitants.
In traveling the Indiana territory the next day, in thirty-three miles we
passed only six houses. This will give an idea of the sparseness of the
population at that time. “The wilderness and the solitary place has been
made glad, and the desert has rejoiced and blossomed as the rose.”
We crossed the Ohio at the mouth of the Licking River in what Mr. Asbury
most appropriately called a “crazy flat.” With great difficulty we
reached the other side. It was leaking, and like to have sunk with the
bishop and all on board; but we were mercifully preserved.
THE WESTERN CONFERENCE.
We had but seven conferences at that time. The Western Conference
included all the vast tract of country lying west of the Alleghanies as
far as it was settled with whites, with the exception of Monongahela
District, which belonged to Baltimore Conference. It was a field that was
widening and expanding every day.
The conference met on October 1 at Liberty Hill, Tenn., at Rev. Green
Hill’s. He was a local preacher, had emigrated from North Carolina, where
Bishop Asbury had been well acquainted with him.
A conference was held at his house in North Carolina as early as 1785,
and Dr. Coke and Asbury were both there. Another conference was held
there in 1792, at which Bishop Asbury presided. He and his family
emigrated to Tennessee when all was a wilderness, and they had to make
their way through a cane-brake to the place where their house was
located. Liberty Hill was twelve miles west of Nashville, and Nashville
was then but a very small village. This was the first conference I
attended with Bishop Asbury as his aid, and all I saw and heard were full
of interest.
It was the first conference William M’Kendree attended as bishop. I saw
him when he filled the episcopal chair for the first time, and so I did
Bishop Whatcoat. M’Kendree had left Baltimore at the close of the General
Conference and gone West by the most direct route. He was one of the
fathers of the Western Conference, where his influence was unbounded. The
preachers gave the new bishop as well as the old one a hearty welcome.
There was a camp-meeting connected with the conference, and the preachers
ate and slept in their tents. There were eighty ministers present,
and there had been an increase of twenty-five hundred members during
the year. It was a most pleasant conference, and the discussions were
interesting.
There were noble men belonging to the conference: Learner Blackman,
William Burke, John Sale, Jacob Young, and James Ward. These were the
presiding elders, and they were on districts that were large enough
for conferences. There were present also Jesse Walker, the pioneer of
Missouri. He was a young man then, only six years in the ministry. Samuel
Parker, the Cicero of the West. He was a deacon. Peter Cartwright, young,
strong, courageous; but he had not graduated to elders’ orders. Twelve
were admitted on trial, six ordained deacons, and ten elders, among whom
was the eccentric James Axley.
The names of the districts now appear strange: Ohio District, John Sale,
Presiding Elder; Kentucky District, William Burke; Mississippi District,
Jacob Young.
Some of the appointments also sound still more strangely to our ears:
Illinois, John Clingan; Missouri, Jesse Walker. What a foundation they
were laying for the opening future! Noble, self-sacrificing men as earth
ever saw or the Church was ever blessed with were these pioneers of the
West. With a single exception, I believe they are now passed away. “Our
fathers, where are they? and the prophets, do they live forever?”