TOUR FROM THE WEST.
The Romanists--Miracles--Indians--Captain M---- The
unhappy sailor--Toledo--Cleveland--Buffalo--Niagara
Falls.
_Detroit, Monday, July 31._
The Roman Church has been supposed to be very strong here, but from
inquiries that I every where made, I am still more confirmed in the belief
that the papists at the west are making very little impression upon the
Protestant population. While they are attempting much, and with sinuous
effort endeavoring to identify themselves with every interest, they in fact
as yet, with all their marvellous reports to the Leopold Society, have done
but very little. That system cannot bear the light. It flourishes best
under arbitrary governments, and amid the thick darkness of ignorance. The
experiment is now making in this country, whether it can live and flourish
in Protestant and republican America without losing its essential and most
obnoxious features. The remark was made to me by a highly intelligent man
in Detroit, "that the absurdities that were swallowed ten years ago by the
Catholics there would be hooted at now." In illustration of this remark, he
went on to say, that about eleven years since he was present at the
cathedral where the former bishop was preaching, and endeavoring to prove
the doctrine of transubstantiation. Among other evidences to which he
referred was the following: "A few years previous," said this mitred
prelate, "in a certain city in Europe, a profane person procured one of the
consecrated wafers, and with carnal curiosity, after leaving the church,
broke it in two, when instantly a stream of blood issued forth, which ran
down his clothes, and stained his apparel. He went home in great affright,
but the stream of blood still flowed, and ceased not till in haste he
returned to the priest, and confessed his sin; then the crimson stream was
dried up, and its stain from his person removed." "This," said the bishop,
"happened in such a city, and there is such an individual now present who
lived in that city at the time, to whom you can refer for corroboration."
"It would be the utter ruin of their prospects," said my informant, "for a
bishop or a Roman Catholic priest to make such an assertion at the present
time. There is too much light now, even among the papists, to listen to
such a ridiculous story for a moment."
There is one point of view in which it is infinitely important that
Detroit, and many other towns situated similar with it, should have
pervading it a high sense of religious feeling. I speak with reference to
the influence which the tone of its morals must, and does exert upon the
many hundreds of Indians that annually visit it. These red men of the woods
are forming their opinions of Christianity from what they see at Detroit,
and St. Louis, and many of our western towns. They see among the white
population every thing to lead them to turn away with disgust from a
religion, professed to be drawn from the Bible. Their depraved natures
readily lead them to lay hold of the vices that abound among us, and they
go back to their tribes, carrying the impression that these are among the
fruits of Christianity. It is painful to see how degraded many of them
become in their intercourse with what is called civilized society.
Intemperance is the vice which they most readily fall into. Under its
baneful influence they seem to lose all the natural and noble traits of
their character. I saw in Detroit a stout built Indian playing the _merry
Andrew_ through the streets, hawking about a lump of ice, as though it were
a loaf of sugar, and calling for the highest bidder. As he staggered by I
could not but think how different he appeared from the native son of the
forest; that manly and noble bearing, that graceful and elastic step, that
grave, serious, and dignified look which sat so well upon the native
Indian's brow, and marked him as one of nature's true noblemen, was gone
and he had become a poor, degraded, drunken outcast and was trying to pick
up a few pennies by making himself a laughing stock to a crowd of idle
boys! What formidable barriers do the vices that still remain incorporated
with Christian communities present, to hinder the progress and extension of
the Redeemer's kingdom!
While at Detroit I met with two incidents, which I noted down at the time,
and which it may not be improper to record here. The one was an interview
with Captain M----, the popular author of several recent novels who is now
making the tour of the lakes. The gentleman whose kind hospitalities I was
sharing, had met with him on his way from Buffalo, and had also after his
arrival at Detroit, called to pay him his respects. It was certainly civil
in the captain to have returned the call, but it was shocking to the
feelings of Christian sensibility, that the time selected for this
reciprocation of civility, was during the sacred hours of the Sabbath.
Capt. M---- could not attend the place of public worship, for the day was
to be employed in returning his calls. He appeared to be addressing himself
to this in a business-like way. With a friend as his guide, and a carriage
to convey him, he was proceeding from street to street, carrying with him
his long list of names, and a bundle of visiting cards. All this was done,
of course, to show that he appreciated the attentions and civilities he had
received. When will men show as much respect to God and his institutions,
as they do to the worms of the dust around them?
The other incident was of a still more painful character. On the same
Sunday, just at the close of the day, there passed my window, a face that
called up the recollection of one whom I supposed had long since been
numbered with the dead. My first acquaintance with him was at the
commencement of my ministry. His father's residence occupied one of the
loveliest spots I had ever beheld on the bank of Lake Ontario. The house
and garden, and court yards, all indicated ease and opulence. This young
man was then a youth, the only son of his father, and cherishing large
expectations in relation to future wealth. He had been reared up under the
eye of a fond mother, who "would not let the winds of heaven blow too
roughly" upon him. His disposition was naturally amiable and vivacious, and
there were many to admire and caress him. But suddenly his prospects were
darkened. It was discovered that his father's estate was covered with
mortgages, and his affairs embarrassed beyond redemption. One piece of
property went after another, till the beautiful family residence was
alienated, and bankruptcy and poverty seemed now staring them in the face.
Mr. ---- had reserved a single farm unencumbered, which he now promised to
give his son. The young man, with a truly noble spirit, determined to
accommodate himself to the circumstances around him, and entered with
hearty zeal upon the cultivation of his farm with his own hands. He had
just become acquainted with some of the more common agricultural operations
and began to look forward to humble independence, when the astounding fact
was disclosed, that this farm too was under a heavy mortgage. In the
straitened circumstances in which Mr. ---- found himself, he had been led
to forget his promise to his son, and to alienate his last acre of land.
The young man's spirit seemed broken. He had unhappily contracted the habit
of moderate drinking. On his father's sideboard, while he was yet a boy,
there always stood a decanter of brandy, and every visitor who made a
morning, afternoon, or evening call, was urged to drink. The father and
son, to encourage their guests always drank with them. Thus this young man
contracted a love for ardent spirits. It was now the season of darkness and
depression with him. The mother who had watched over his childhood, had
gone down to the grave. The riches in which they once rolled, had taken to
themselves wings and flown away. The fond hopes he had cherished of rising
by his own industry, had been crushed. Poverty was staring them in the
face. This young man was without employment. Several years passed by, and
the prospects of this family did not brighten in a single particular. At
length the father went abroad. His family were left behind to shift for
themselves. He never returned. The son became more and more dissipated,
till in a fit of desperation he went to New York, and embarked on board of
a ship as a common sailor. Many a father and mother who knew this promising
young man, and witnessed his career up to this point, when they looked
around upon their own infant band, sighed and shook their heads, painfully
feeling that they could not tell what their children would come to. Young
---- went to the East Indies, and, it was said, was lost during the voyage.
I had never heard of him since. But as I sat by the window at this time,
the countenance and form of one that passed by, so strongly reminded me of
him, that I sent out a young lad to overtake him, and invite him to come
in. There soon entered one in complete sailor's dress, with loose
pantaloons, round-about coat, and tarpaulin hat, swaggering along,
evidently under the influence of intoxicating drink. He looked at me for a
moment, and then uttered my name! What was my astonishment and amazement!
Was this the gifted and talented young ----, whom I had first met in the
dwelling of courtly splendor--from whose father's hands I had received so
many expressions of kindness and acts of hospitality--over whose
pleasure-grounds, amid delightful shade and shrubbery, I had so often
roamed? Was this that noble, gifted boy, in relation to whom such high
hopes were formed, and who had naturally such generous and kind feelings? I
had thought the waves of the deep had long since rolled over him! But no,
there he stood, a perfect wreck of what he once was. His eye was glassy,
and his breath fetid and offensive beyond endurance. He seemed to be
conscious of the degradation he had brought upon himself, and by an evident
struggle and effort of will, did succeed in throwing off the symptoms of
present inebriety. I found that he had visited every part of the world, and
had suffered every thing but death. He had been imprisoned in Chili, and
cast away on the shores of western Africa. I spoke to him about his soul.
He seemed much affected, and shed tears. After a few moment's pause, he
said, "I have been a very wicked fellow, but I have never lost the early
impressions I had in relation to my responsibility to God. The little
Testament my sister gave me, I have kept when stript of every thing else. I
have read it when the other sailors around me were asleep. I knew they
did'nt understand my feelings, and they would only laugh at me. I have
often prayed, but then I would soon become as wicked as ever. I have
thought of you, sir, often, and of the sermons I used to hear. When I sat
naked on the burning sand in Africa, I thought of many serious things,
which I had heard from your lips, and I tried to pray. Yes, that was an
awful time! We were cast away--our vessel was lost--three or four of us got
ashore and were saved. But we were immediately stript of every rag of
covering, and for three months I wandered over the sands of Africa, naked
as when I came into the world, and living as I could snatch a little fruit
here and there. I at length found my way to Liberia, and was sent to
America by the Governor of that colony."
He then told me that for several years past, he had been on the lakes. I
asked him if he was happy. He said "No, never, except in a storm, when
every thing around me seems going to destruction. Then I become excited and
feel a sort of mad happiness." I entreated him to bethink himself of his
ways, and turn unto the Lord. He said he did not think it would do any
good; that he was too far gone, and that if he prayed ever so much, or made
ever so many resolutions, in a few days he was as bad as ever. I endeavored
to point out where the difficulty lay. He went to church with me that
evening, and seemed solemn and affected. Poor fellow, I know not what will
be his end! I fear there are many youths of our land going on just in this
same path.
_Cleveland, August 2d._
Yesterday I took leave of Detroit on board the steamboat "United States"
for this place, which we reached this morning. On our way here, we visited
Toledo, in Ohio, which stands on the Maumee River, about ten miles from its
mouth. This is a place of some notoriety, but although we stopped there
several hours, I found very little to interest me. There were not a few
indications that it was a place where iniquity abounded. Though a place of
considerable size, the institutions of the gospel have found very little
foothold as yet. I was told, though I cannot vouch for the correctness of
the account, that some time ago, when an effort was about being made to
establish some religious society here, a public meeting was called, and
they voted that they would have no such thing in their town. I hope they
have come to a better mind before this.
Just before we entered the Maumee River, we passed a light house that had
been erected on a bare and barren bank of sand, of about an acre in extent,
which had risen up in the midst of the surrounding waters. On this barren
spot there is a solitary dwelling, the residence, I presume, of the keeper
of the light-house. There is something very striking in this lonely
residence, pitched in the midst of a wild waste of waters, and forcibly
reminded me of the state of the Christian in this life, whose habitation is
often in some desolate place, some lonely spot amid a surrounding moral
desert, but always where he can answer some useful end, can tend upon some
light-house to direct the path of tempest-tost mariners towards the haven
of rest.
We also touched in our way to Cleveland at Sandusky City and Huron. It was
my original intention to stop at one of these places, and make an excursion
through the northern part of Ohio, taking Gambier in my circuit. I felt an
increased desire to visit that place, after learning as I did in Michigan,
the important influence the institution there is silently exerting upon the
west, but I found it necessary to deny myself this pleasure for the want of
time. From what I heard of Kenyon College, I should think that the standard
of attainment there was very high, and that they had wisely guarded against
the custom too common in the west of hurrying the student through a rapid
and superficial course of studies, and conferring upon him a degree at a
time when he ought to be regarded as a _sophomore_. The course of studies
at this institution is very thorough, and the faculty able and talented.
Kenyon College cannot fail to prove a most powerful auxiliary to the cause
of learning and religion in the west, and its influence for the interests
of the Episcopal Church will be more extended than any of us of the
present generation can compute.
With Cleveland I have been decidedly pleased. It is principally built on a
high table of land, that looks boldly off upon the far-stretching and
majestic waters of Erie. It has a population of about eight thousand; its
houses are generally handsome and well built. It is separated from Ohio
City by the Cuyahoga river, a stream into which the steamboats run up,
which stop at Cleveland. Ohio City is a pleasant town, having between two
and three thousand inhabitants. They are here erecting a fine stone edifice
for an Episcopal Church. This place appears to bear the same relation to
Cleveland that Brooklyn does to New York. Unhappily there is no small
jealousy between the two places, which it is hoped the experience of a few
years will cure. Some of the streets in the eastern part of Cleveland,
looking off upon the lake, are beautiful beyond the power of description.
_Niagara Falls, August 3d._
In passing from Cleveland to Buffalo over Erie's green waters, we touched
at several interesting points, but I omit any description of them or of
Buffalo, which has grown up into a large and beautiful city. I have spent
the day most delightfully here, silently musing on these vast waters that
leap with giant stride over this mighty precipice of rock. I had thought
that these falls, when I first gazed upon them from Table Rock, some four
years since, possessed all the conceivable elements of sublimity, but I
never understood their full grandeur and majesty till I looked at them
to-day, and remembered that the water of all those lakes upon which I had
travelled more than a thousand miles, was pouring in one gathered column
over that precipice! Then, immediately, I felt that the tremendous roar,
that rose deafening around me, was the voice of God! I saw that it was His
hand that had gathered those waters, and poured them with such resistless
force over that vast precipice, and the thought then flashed upon my mind,
"How will he speak to impenitent sinners when he riseth up to judgment? How
will they escape from his mighty hand when he poureth out his fury like
fire?"
Just then a rainbow met my eye that lay beautifully pencilled on the
foaming flood below. I remembered it was the bow of promise; and new
emotions of gratitude were waked up in my heart, when, at the very moment I
was surrounded with such demonstrations of almighty power, and such vivid
proof that God could with the breath of his mouth hurl the guilty down to
bottomless perdition, I was reminded by the bow that lay on the bosom of
the foaming gulf, that through the mercy of God in Christ there was a way
for poor sinners to escape! Oh that they might be prevailed upon to lay
hold of the hope set before them, and not rush madly on to the precipice of
eternal death!