VIRGINIA, BALTIMORE, PHILADELPHIA, AND NEW ENGLAND CONFERENCES.
We left Columbia for Charleston on Saturday, December 30, accompanied by
that noble man of God, Lewis Myers. We reached General Rumph’s, on the
Orangeburgh District, where we spent the Sabbath. He was a man of mark,
a general of the Revolution, and a noble soldier in the Christian army.
The general had two sons, Christian and Jacob Rumph, who were excellent
men and superior preachers. Jacob was in the work only five years. He
joined in 1808, and died in Charleston in 1813. His father was wealthy,
and Jacob might have richly enjoyed the good things of this life, but
he chose to endure the hardships of an itinerant ministry. His career
was short, but brilliant; his end triumphant. I have noticed for a long
lifetime that those families that early entertained the Lord’s prophets
were greatly blessed. The Lord put the broad seal of his approbation upon
them, and this is strikingly illustrated in the family of General Rumph.
The general was one of the first that welcomed Methodist ministers in
that part of South Carolina. Bishop Asbury makes the following honorable
record: “God has repaid this family for its kindness to the poor
followers of the Lord Jesus. There are four sons and three daughters,
gracious souls. Two of the sons, Jacob and Christian, are preachers of
the Gospel.” This was the bishop’s last interview with General Rumph.
Before his next annual round the general was in the sepulcher.
We reached Charleston January 2, 1811, and spent several days there. The
bishop preached several times. I attended to some important business for
the Book Room, procuring drafts, etc. After several days’ riding and
preaching, on Monday 28 we crossed Cape Fear River at Governor Smith’s
Ferry. The bishop was oft in perils on the land, on the water, on the
mountains, and in the woods. Of these he makes but little mention in his
journal. One of the most fearful perils he had while I was with him was
at this ferry. We started to cross with one ferryman instead of two. I
was holding the bridles of our horses, standing between their heads.
Another ferryman came up with a canoe. I warned him not to let it strike
our boat; but he did not heed the caution, and his canoe struck our
scow, which so frightened one horse that he sprang against the other and
both went overboard. The bishop and myself were also in danger of being
knocked overboard and drowned, as the water was very deep. The bishop
was seated at the end of the scow with his staff in his hand. One of the
horses struck the staff and broke it, and a little more and it might
have broke his leg or knocked the feeble old man overboard. I held on
to the reins of one, and he swam along the side of the scow; the other
began to swim toward the shore, but seeing which way the other horse was
swimming he turned round and passed us, and reached the opposite shore
before we did. There he sunk in the mud, and his exertions to escape only
sunk him deeper, and his case became more hopeless. The bishop looked
very sad as he saw his favorite animal floundering in the mud. Just then
an old colored woman, a slave, made her appearance, and she was full of
sympathy. “O,” said the bishop, “my horse is mired, and I am afraid we
shall never be able to get him out.” “O yes, massa,” said she, “you will,
for we will call the colored people down from their quarters, and they
will lift him out bodily.” At this the bishop laughed most heartily. But
previous to sending for help I thought I would try what could be done. So
I got a rail and put it under the horse’s haunches, and he gave a spring
and was soon out, to the bishop’s great joy as well as my own.
The bishop’s saddle-bags were fastened to his saddle, mine were not, and
they floated down the stream. I felt much anxiety until I recovered them,
as I had many dollars in them belonging to the Book Room. Our clothes,
books, and manuscripts were all well soaked. We spent hours in drying
them, and then started on our journey. Bishop Asbury was much alarmed,
far more so than I had ever seen him. Our preservation and that of the
horses was providential, and we had special cause for thanksgiving.[36]
The Virginia Conference commenced its session in Raleigh, N. C., on
February 7, 1811. In 1810 the conference was held in Newbern, and the
citizens of Raleigh sent an invitation to have the next session there,
pledging themselves to entertain the preachers and their horses. We
had a very small society at Raleigh, and the brethren considered the
invitation providential, and accepted it. I know of no particular account
of this memorable conference anywhere. It was held in the state-house,
in the senate chamber, and we preached in the hall of the House of
Representatives. There was preaching three times a day. C. H. Hines and
Jesse Lee preached the first day. On Friday Bishop M’Kendree preached at
eleven o’clock, and I at three. The work of conviction was going on, and
a number were converted in the evening. Saturday was a day of the Lord’s
power. The work not only continued during the day, but till midnight.
On Sunday Bishop Asbury preached in the morning to a thousand people,
and Thomas L. Douglass at three o’clock. Many embraced religion, and
the interest continued to increase to the last. This was the greatest
time I had seen for years at any conference for the display of saving
power. Over fifty were converted and united with us, among whom were the
Secretary of State and some of his family. This revival gave such an
impetus to Methodism in Raleigh that they proceeded to build a church
that year, and Methodism had a character and permanency that remains to
this day. We put up with a kind family named Mears, who kept a public
house. They shared in the blessings of the Gospel, for some of them
experienced religion during the conference.
For three nights Bishop Asbury, Thomas L. Douglass, and myself lodged
with our aged friend, Rev. William Glendenning, who came and insisted
that we should put up with him. He was a Scotchman, a man of rather
large stature, and had something of a brogue. He was one of our earliest
preachers, having been received at the conference held in 1776, when
there were only nineteen Methodist preachers in America. This made him
to me an object of great interest. His first appointment was Brunswick,
Virginia, with George Shadford, Edward Drumgoole, and Robert Williams.
Mr. Glendenning was remarkably eccentric, if not a little “cracked.” I
knew him very early, having seen him at my father’s house and heard
him preach. He withdrew in 1785. He afterward joined the “Republican
Methodists” under James O’Kelley, and preached among them; then he became
a Unitarian, and built a church in Raleigh. We had a very pleasant time
at his house.
He attended our conference and the preaching, and appeared interested in
the revival scenes; but he would exclaim, “I do not like the government.”
There seemed to be a conflict in his own mind: he believed the work to
be of God—that souls were really converted; and yet he was so strongly
prejudiced against our Church government that he could not see how heaven
had set its seal of approbation upon such measures. At this time he was
an old man. He ended his days in Raleigh.
In 1814 Bishop Asbury visited Raleigh again, and writes: “After all
allowance for drawbacks, we cannot tell all the good that was done by our
conference in Raleigh in 1811.”
I have noticed the conversion of the Secretary of State. His name was
William Hill. He immediately joined the Methodist Church, and was
baptized by Bishop Asbury. Such was the purity of his character that
amid all the changes of party he held the office of Secretary of State
from 1811 till his death in 1857, a period of forty-six years. This is
unparalleled. He was a class-leader and steward for many years. He was
eighty-four when he died.
On the 28th of February we rode to William Watters’s. He retired from
the regular work in 1806, but his heart was always in it. He was now
living in dignified retirement on his farm on the Virginia side of the
Potomac, opposite Georgetown. He was the first traveling preacher raised
up in America. Philip Gatch commenced nearly the same time. They were
intimate, and in their declining years corresponded with each other. Mr.
Watters was a stout man, of medium height, of very venerable and solemn
appearance. Bishop Asbury and he were life-time friends. The bishop was
acquainted with him before he was licensed to preach, and used to call
him familiarly, “Billy Watters.” When these aged men met on this occasion
they embraced and saluted each other with “a holy kiss;” and the bishop,
writing of this visit in his journal, speaks of him as “my dear old
friend, William Watters.” He was distinguished for humility, simplicity,
and purity.
Few holier ministers has the Methodist Church ever had than William
Watters. I rejoice that I was permitted to hear him preach and to
be his guest; to eat at his table, to sit at his fireside, to enjoy
his friendship and hospitality. His house was for years a regular
preaching-place on the circuit. In 1833, at the age of eighty-two, he
died in holy triumph. His name will go down to the end of time bearing
the honored title of _The First American Methodist Traveling Preacher_.
William Watters rode with us about four miles, and then we went to
Georgetown to Henry Foxall’s. On Sunday the bishop preached in Washington
city, in the new chapel, and at Georgetown. On the next Saturday Hamilton
Jefferson, Dr. Hall, and James Smith overtook us, and we journeyed on
together. On Wednesday we reached Pipe Creek, and Bishop Asbury preached
next day at the Pipe Creek Chapel. I held forth at night on Acts x, 33.
Thence we proceeded to Baltimore.
On Wednesday, March 11, 1811, the Baltimore Conference commenced its
session in Light-street Church. The first evening I heard Gill Watt
preach on “The preparation of the heart,” etc.; Thursday, at eleven,
Benedict Reynolds on “Who then can be saved?” There was a good work
in the evening in Light-street Church—sinners awakened and mourners
comforted.
On Sunday morning I heard Jacob Gruber preach in German in Father
Otterbein’s Church. In the afternoon I preached also in German in the
same place, from Gal. vi, 9; my dear old friend Newcomber exhorted.
The revival continued during the conference. Such a work during the
session of a conference is delightful, and should always be expected. At
this conference Beverly Waugh, Joseph Frye, James M. Hanson, and four
others were admitted into full connection and ordained deacons.
On Thursday the conference adjourned, and I went with Bishop Asbury
to see Mr. Otterbein. The interview between these ancient friends was
most delightful. Then we went to Gatch’s meeting-house, and the bishop
preached from Heb. xii, 15. The reader can see what a laborious man the
bishop was when he remembers that after many days’ close sitting in
conference, and stationing so many men, instead of retiring for rest,
that very day he preaches at Gatch’s Chapel. He was the most laborious
man I ever knew.
We had in company with us Brother James Paynter, Sister Gough, and Sister
Dickins, both widows indeed. We went with them to Perry Hall.
On Friday the bishop preached in the camp-meeting chapel and I exhorted.
We returned to Perry Hall. On Saturday we rode to the Fork Chapel, where
the bishop preached and I exhorted. Here we parted with three widows,
Gough, Dickins, and Cassell. The last was the widow of the eloquent
Leonard Cassell, who fell asleep three years before.
I left the bishop and hastened to my father’s, whom I had not seen since
the summer before. To my great joy I found there Bishop M’Kendree and
Robert Burch. On Friday, April 5, Bishop M’Kendree preached in Boehm’s
Chapel on Luke xii, 32. On Sunday Bishop M’Kendree, Robert Burch, and
I preached in Lancaster. On Monday I rode with Bishop M’Kendree to
Strasburgh, where he preached, and we tarried with my old friend Thomas
Ware; thence to Souderburgh, where the bishop preached from Prov. xxiv,
30-34. I returned with him to Strasburgh.
Having rejoined Bishop Asbury, we went to Philadelphia, and put up with
Alexander Cook. This was a very fine family. Their house was then a
little out of town, but the city has now grown out to them. He was the
father-in-law of Rev. John P. Durbin, D.D.
On Saturday the Philadelphia Conference commenced its session in St.
George’s Church. On Sunday I heard three sermons from Bishop M’Kendree,
Stephen G. Roszell, and Bishop Asbury, all in St. George’s. Thomas Burch
and I lodged with my early friend, Dr. Chandler.
On Saturday 27 Bishop M’Kendree, having appointments for preaching ahead,
left Bishop Asbury to finish the work of the conference. Ten preachers
were admitted on trial, among whom were Joseph Lybrand. The conference
adjourned on Monday. I wrote, “It seems the voice of Providence that I
should keep on with Bishop Asbury.”
On Wednesday we went to Germantown, and Bishop Asbury preached in the
evening. Here he was visited by those distinguished physicians, Drs.
Rush and Physic. It was my privilege to be present at the interview.
Dr. Benjamin Rush, as a man, a patriot, a physician, and a scholar,
occupied the first rank. He was one of the signers of the Declaration
of Independence. Bishop Asbury was delighted with their attentions, as
will appear from the following entry in his journal: “Wednesday, May
1, I preached in Germantown. Drs. Rush and Physic paid me a visit. How
consoling it is to know that these great characters are men fearing God!
I was much gratified, as I ever am, by their attentions, kindness, and
charming conversation; indeed they have been of eminent use to me, and I
acknowledge their services with gratitude.”
The bishop had had several interviews with them before, but I believe
this was the last. In less than two years Dr. Rush was in his grave. He
died in Philadelphia, April 19, 1813, aged sixty-seven. Bishop Asbury
lived only five years after. Dr. Physic, who was much younger than
either, died in 1837, aged sixty-nine.
It was at this interview, as they were separating, the bishop inquired
what he should pay for their professional services. They answered,
“Nothing; only an interest in your prayers.” Said Bishop Asbury, “As I do
not like to be in debt we will pray now;” and he knelt down and offered
a most impressive prayer that God would bless and reward them for their
kindness to him.
We were next to visit the New York Conference. On May 18 we came to
Powles Hook, and had to wait two hours for wind to cross the Hudson
River. We went over then in sail-boats, and there was not wind enough to
fill the sails. In this go-ahead, rushing age, when every one is in a
hurry, what would a person think of being delayed at a ferry two hours?
Now you cross every three minutes, as regular as clock-work.
We put up in New York at Sister Grice’s. She was a widow, from Annapolis.
She had a daughter who was also a widow, Mrs. Ann Tucker. They were
milliners, and lived in William-street, and their house was an excellent
home. Our old friend, Mrs. John Mills, where we put up last year, was
dead.
The conference commenced its session in New York May 20, 1811. Both the
bishops were present. There was nothing special except the election of
delegates to the General Conference in 1812. The New York Conference was
the first that elected its delegates. There was considerable excitement,
and some electioneering. They elected thirteen. Freeborn Garrettson
headed the delegation, and was followed by Daniel Ostrander, Aaron Hunt,
William Phœbus, William Anson, Nathan Bangs, Laban Clark, Truman Bishop,
Eben Smith, Henry Stead, Billy Hibbard, Seth Crowell, and Samuel Merwin.
They are all gone years ago, except the venerable Laban Clark.
On Friday, May 31, the bishop preached at the “two-mile stone,” as it
was called, or “Bowery Village.” It was considered out of the city. He
preached in an academy in what is now St. Mark’s Place. The society
there was early organized. John and Gilbert Coutant were among the early
members. This was the germ of what is now the Seventh-street Church, one
of the most flourishing in New York.
We put up with George Suckley, Esq., a wealthy gentleman of the old
school, who came over to America with Dr. Coke. We had the company of
Rev. Ezekiel Cooper, Freeborn Garrettson, and Daniel Hitt. Brother
Garrettson and Brother Suckley were intimate friends, and in 1827 Mr.
Garrettson died at the house of his friend in New York.
Onward to Sherwood Yale, and spent the Sabbath there and at New Rochelle.
Here Thomas Paine was buried, and has a monument. On Monday to Croton to
General Van Cortland’s. The governor was ninety-one years old, with clear
mental faculties, and, best of all, happy in God his Saviour. The bishop
preached at three o’clock on the prodigal’s return.
On Friday, June 7, we reached George Ingraham’s in Amenia. On Saturday
I wrote thus: “This day I am thirty-six years old, and it is twelve
years since I joined the Methodist connection. My much esteemed senior,
Thomas Ware, asked me if I had ‘a desire to join society.’ I answered,
‘If the society could venture on their part, I was willing to make the
trial.’ He then set down my name. It is ten years last January since I
left my dear father and mother and relations, with small gifts and little
Christian experience, and less in the ministry, not knowing much of men
and things, and but little knowledge of the English tongue; and yet
the people have generally received me in the character of an itinerant
minister in different parts of our continent. This is indeed marvelous.
It is the Lord’s doing. My soul feels deeply humbled in love and
gratitude before the Lord. Halleluiah! The sun shines bright, the meadows
and fields are clothed with grass, wheat, etc.; all nature smiles. O
for a trumpet’s voice and the power of the Spirit! that Henry might
successfully call souls to God.” I have transcribed this from my journal
that the reader might see the scrap of history it contains, and also the
frame of mind I was in at that time when I was a houseless wanderer.
After spending the Sabbath at Amenia, we traveled through Hillsdale,
Lenox, Pittsfield, Pownal, and Bennington, to Ashgrove. We stopped at
Brother John Armitage’s, and here we met Bishop M’Kendree and Elijah
Chichester, who accompanied him to the New England Conference. Ashgrove,
as the reader well knows, is Methodist classic ground.
On Wednesday we reached Barnard, Vermont, the seat of the New England
Conference. We put up with Andrew Stevens. On Thursday, June 20,
the session commenced. They had preaching every day. Elijah Hedding
preached at eleven o’clock from Isaiah xl, 1, 2. It was a sermon full of
consolation. On Friday there was a general fast that was observed by six
conferences, and Bishop Asbury preached and ordained the deacons. It was
a gracious time. The elders were ordained on Sunday afternoon after a
sermon by Bishop M’Kendree.
On Tuesday, after a pleasant session, the Conference adjourned, and the
preachers repaired with cheerfulness to their different fields of labor.
Here also I witnessed the first election by this conference of delegates
to the General Conference. Nine were chosen: George Pickering, Oliver
Beale, Elijah Hedding, Joshua Soule, William Stevens, Asa Kent, Solomon
Sias, Joel Winch, and Daniel Webb. They have been gone years ago, except
Daniel Webb, who entered the traveling ministry sixty-seven years ago,
and Joshua Soule.