SCHUYLKILL DISTRICT, 1813-14.
The office of presiding elder was new to me, and I felt my
responsibility. Philadelphia, Wilmington, and seven circuits composed
my district. Several of the circuits I had previously traveled, and
my old friends hailed me with joy. It included my native place and
Boehm’s Chapel, and I was near my old mother, who was bending under the
infirmities of age. Several of the preachers had been my colleagues, and
were my personal friends, and I could not but feel at home with them.
There were noble men on my district, among them two future bishops,
Robert R. Roberts and John Emory. The other presiding elders were Peter
Vannest, Michael Coate, and John M’Claskey. Peter Vannest had heard John
Wesley, and he used to say, “Brethren, remain by the old landmarks. These
very eyes have seen John Wesley, and these hands have handled him.” While
the others died early he lived to an extreme old age, beloved by all who
knew him, and died in holy triumph in Pemberton, New Jersey.
My home on the district was with Robert R. Roberts, in Philadelphia. I
was a single man, and he had no children. He invited me to make his
house my home.
On the 31st of July Bishop Asbury and John C. French, who traveled with
him, came to the old homestead while I was there. The bishop spent the
Sabbath and preached in Boehm’s Chapel in the morning from Titus ii,
2-10. The text was a sermon in itself: advice to “aged men,” to “aged
women,” to “young women,” to “young men,” to “servants,” etc. The bishop
says in his journal, “Happily we met H. Boehm, who had appointed a
meeting at Boehm’s Chapel.” He had been on his northern and eastern tour,
and he was exceedingly fatigued, and he wrote, “Rest man and beast.” They
both needed it. For three days he was employed in answering letters. He
also wrote on my father’s old desk a valedictory to the Church, to be
read by Bishop M’Kendree to the General Conference when he was gathered
to his fathers. It contained his views of the primitive Church government
and ordination, and abounded in wise counsels and suggestions. He knew
he could not live much longer, and he left his thoughts on these weighty
subjects for the benefit of others when he rested from his labors.
Soon after I held a camp-meeting on the banks of the Sweet Arrow, in
Dauphin County. Many were converted at this meeting; among others the
daughter of the distinguished Joseph Priestley.
The Schuylkill District was about one hundred miles square, and yet,
after traveling with Bishop Asbury around his large diocese, such is the
power of habit, I felt as if I was confined to a small space; therefore I
sometimes left my district and visited other fields of labor. I attended
a camp-meeting on the Chesapeake District, on land that belonged to
Thomas White, Bishop Asbury’s early friend.
On Tuesday, April 5, 1814, I went to Philadelphia, and met our aged and
venerable Bishops Asbury and M’Kendree. On Wednesday our conference
commenced its session. All went on harmoniously. Bishop M’Kendree
preached at St. George’s a most melting sermon. Bishop Asbury preached
in the morning at the Union, on “Will ye also go away?” etc.; in the
afternoon at St. George’s, from Rom. ii, 21. On Wednesday Bishop
M’Kendree preached an ordination sermon from 2 Cor. v, 20, and then he
ordained eleven to the office of elder. This was a gracious conference.
Bishop Asbury says in his journal: “The Philadelphia Conference
progressed in great peace and Gospel order. We had crowded houses day
and night. We doubt not but that souls have been convinced, converted,
comforted, and sanctified by the ministration of the word.” There was
but little change on my district among the preachers; but, alas! there
was a change in the presiding elderships before the year was out. Two of
them were transferred to heaven. John M’Claskey, of Chesapeake District,
fell at his post, covered with scars and loaded with honors, on September
2, 1814. I have had occasion to speak of him several times. He was the
spiritual son of “Daddy Abbott,” and preached his funeral sermon by
his particular request. He was a noble presiding officer. His strong
constitution suffered from yellow fever in New York in 1800, and then the
death of his only son, who was going to be married, and who died from a
mistake his physician made in giving him medicine, almost crushed his
heart. His end was triumphant.
Michael Coate, of West Jersey District, died the first of August. I had
known him for years, as well as his brother Samuel. He was distinguished
for strength of mind and soundness of judgment, and especially for the
meek and quiet spirit which, in the sight of God, is of great price. The
last time he preached was on the multitude John saw before the throne,
Rev. viii, 9, and soon he went to join them. He was born in 1767, and
converted, died, and was buried in Burlington County, N. J. The death
of two such men in one year was a great loss to our conference and the
Church.
Immediately after the adjournment of conference I made a very pleasant
tour with Bishop M’Kendree. We first went to Germantown, and he preached
there. On Sunday he preached at the new church in Holmesburgh, from
Rom. i, 16. Then we rode to Trenton and went with Peter Vannest to
the Bethel, where the bishop preached; then to Hopewell, now called
Pennington. The bishop preached there, and we put up with an old
Methodist by the name of Bunn. His descendants are numerous, and they
are all Methodists. Methodism was introduced here early by Captain Webb.
We have now there a noble seminary and a flourishing Church. Thence went
to Asbury, and Bishop M’Kendree preached in the morning on the parable
of the “Unjust steward,” and in the afternoon from Isaiah xxxii, 17. On
Monday we parted with the bishop, he going on to attend the New York
Conference, and I returning to my district. On reaching home I heard that
Bishop Asbury was sick at Brother Sale Coate’s, a brother of Michael and
Samuel Coate, at Lumberton, New Jersey. On the 3d of May I went there
and found him so very low he was scarcely able to breathe. The next day
he appeared a little better. On Friday and Saturday his difficulty of
breathing was so great that we frequently looked for his departure. On
Sunday I wrote, “Bishop Asbury is very low, but expectorates freely;
no material change, only that he gradually decreases in strength.”
On Monday, about one o’clock A.M., there appeared an evident change
for the better. In answer to prayer, he was remarkably comforted with
the presence and power of the Lord. He continued in a convalescent
state until Friday morning, when we thought he would have expired;
his hands and feet were cold. Through the whole of his affliction his
conversation was about the great and deep things of God; the Church of
God on earth, and the many glorified saints who are reaping the rewards
of the heavenly world. For ten nights in succession I sat up and watched
with him; the last night he seemed to be carried out of himself: all
of his conversation was relative to God, Christ, and the great work
of redemption. On the 18th I wrote: “Bishop Asbury seems to be much
better, so that he can now lie upon his pillow and sleep, which he had
not been able to do in three weeks, except a few minutes at a time. The
prospect of his recovering is somewhat flattering.” Such is the record
I made fifty years ago. John W. Bond was then the bishop’s traveling
companion, and was all kindness and attention, but he had been with the
bishop but a few weeks. There was enough for two or three of us to do at
Brother Coate’s while the bishop was so dangerously ill. The family were
exceedingly kind, and did all in their power to make him comfortable. I
remained with them sixteen days and nights in succession. He never fully
recovered from that sickness, and he was physically unfit to go round his
diocese again. It was a living death, a perpetual martyrdom. For three
months the dear old man kept no record in his journal. On resuming it
he wrote: “I return to my journal after an interval of twelve weeks. I
have been ill indeed; but medicine, nursing, and kindness, under God,
have been so far effectual, that I have recovered strength enough to sit
in my little covered wagon, into which they lift me. I have clambered
over the rude mountains, passing through York and Chambersburgh to
Greensburgh. Tuesday, July 19, I would not be loved to death, and so
came down from my sick room and took the road, weak enough. Attention
constant, and kindness unceasing, have pursued me to this place, and my
strength increases daily. I look back upon a martyr’s life of toil and
privation and pain, and I am ready for a martyr’s death. The purity of
my intentions; my diligence in the labors to which God has been pleased
to call me; the unknown sufferings I have endured; what are all these?
The merit, atonement, and righteousness of Christ alone make my plea. My
friends in Philadelphia gave me a little light four-wheel carriage; but
God and the Baltimore Conference gave me a richer present—they gave me
John Wesley Bond for a traveling companion; has he his equal on earth for
excellences of every kind as an aid? I groan one minute with pain, and
shout glory the next.”
In August I had a delightful interview at Middletown with my friend Dr.
Romer, who translated the Methodist Discipline into German. On the 31st
of March I went with John Emory to visit the sick and pray with them.
He was not only a superior man and preacher, but an excellent pastor.
Though a great student, it did not prevent his attending to his pastoral
work. He was very popular. I had often visited his father, Judge Emory,
and I knew his spiritual father, John Chalmers. John Emory was afterward
book agent, a clear-headed business man, a delegate to the Wesleyan
Conference; elected bishop in 1832, and was thrown from his carriage
and killed December 6, 1835. I baptized his son, Robert Emory. He was
a beautiful infant when I laid on his head the consecrated waters of
baptism. When he grew up to manhood, and was president of Dickinson
College, I looked upon him and thought of his excellent father and
mother, and of the time I baptized him in the name of the Trinity. He,
too, has fallen asleep.
On April 12, to my great joy, I met Bishop M’Kendree at Radner’s. On
the next day, which was appointed by the general government for public
thanksgiving for the restoration of peace, he preached a most appropriate
sermon. The bishop was full of patriotism, and with a national subject he
was perfectly at home. He was the intimate friend and a great admirer of
General Jackson, and related many characteristic anecdotes concerning him.