CHAPTER XXXV. MY LAST TOUR WITH BISHOP ASBURY.

On Monday, August 17, we started on the last tour I made with the bishop. The next Monday we went to Pipe Creek and attended a camp-meeting there. Then we started West, and the bishop remarked, “There was a strange medley of preachers, drovers, beasts on four legs, and beasts made by whisky on two, traveling on the turnpike at one time.”

In eight months we had traveled six thousand miles and attended nine conferences and ten camp-meetings.

On Friday, September 18, we went to Rush Creek camp-meeting. We tarried with Edward Teel, a Methodist of the old stamp, nearly eighty years old. Mr. Asbury and he had been friends over forty years. He was the father-in-law of Rev. James Quin. The bishop at this time was very feeble, and required much care and constant nursing.

We reached Chillicothe, and were the guests of Rev. Thomas S. Hines, a local preacher. He was a good writer, and capital at sketching. He wrote those sketches on Western Methodism that appeared in the Methodist Magazine and in the Christian Advocate, over the signature of Theophilus Arminius. He was the intimate friend of Rev. William Beauchamp, and wrote his memoir. He was the son of Dr. S. Hines, whom Bishop Asbury mentions, who put a blister plaster on the back of his wife’s head to draw her Methodism out of her. She bore it with such meekness and patience that it led to the awakening and conversion of her husband. I was acquainted with the old doctor, who was a very singular but interesting man.

He related the circumstance of his trying to extract his wife’s Methodism by so harsh a remedy to the bishop and myself, and he cried, and said, “what a fool I was to do so.” The doctor was a surgeon in the British army under General Wolfe, and was present at the Plains of Abraham where Wolfe fell at Quebec, and Captain Webb lost an eye. The doctor and his family emigrated from Virginia to Kentucky when it was one vast wilderness. He was formerly a deist, but became a Methodist. He and his estimable wife were pillars in the temple of Western Methodism. She was a noble woman, and had a superior mind. She gave a reason of the hope within her, silenced infidels, and carried the war into the enemy’s camp.

The Western Conference began at Chillicothe October 1, 1812. Friday was a day of fasting. At eleven Bishop Asbury preached from Acts xiii, 1, 2, “And they ministered to the Lord, and fasted,” etc. The bishop preached three times, and labored with apostolic zeal. He ordained twelve deacons and twelve elders. He made this entry in his journal: “Upon the last day my strength failed. I want sleep, sleep, sleep; for three hours I lay undisturbed in bed, to which I had stolen on Wednesday, but they called me up to read off the stations. I have considerable fever, but we must move.”

The bishop and I went to Cincinnati, where we spent the Sabbath, and both preached. This was my last visit to this place till forty-seven years after. Thence we traveled to Kentucky. At Lexington the bishop heard a local preacher, at whose father’s house he had preached in 1780. At Frankfort he preached in the chamber of the House of Representatives, and found among his hearers a man who was his companion through the wilderness twenty-three years before.

At Nashville, Tennessee, we saw a daughter of General Russel, Widow Bowen and her three daughters, who were all Methodists. We lodged with the jailor, but he kindly let us out. The bishop pleasantly said we were “prisoners of hope.” He preached in the new church on the Sabbath, and wrote, “This is a pentecostal day to my soul. Hail, all hail, eternal glory!”

The Tennessee Conference met near James Quin’s at Fountain Head, November 9, 1812. It was held at Brother House’s, that we might have the meeting-house to preach in. Both the bishops preached, and I had the privilege also. Forty deacons and ten elders were ordained, and there was an increase of eight thousand within its bounds. This was the first session of the Tennessee Conference. Up to that time we had had in the West only the grand old Western Conference.

The formation of the Tennessee Conference was a new era in Western Methodism, and paved the way for the formation of future conferences. Bishop Asbury was anxious to form a Mississippi Conference, and makes this record: “We shall have gone entirely round the United States in forty years; but there will be other states! God will raise up men to make and meet conferences in them also, if we remain faithful as a people.” How true his predictions concerning other states and other conferences: states have been more than doubled, and conferences have multiplied till, North and South, we have nearly a hundred. And God has raised up the men and furnished the means to carry on this glorious work.

During conference I was the honored guest of James M’Kendree, father of the bishop. He was happy in God and bound for heaven. This was my last visit to the venerated patriarch.

A number of preachers started with the bishops on our Southern tour. The eccentric James Axley was with us, and he was most excellent company. At night we were entertained by Rev. John Magee, the father of camp-meetings in America and the father-in-law of Rev. Thomas L. Douglass. On Wednesday Bishop Asbury baptized six children. Then we crossed the French Broad and forded the Big Pigeon. It was nothing for us to ford rivers.

On Sunday Bishop M’Kendree preached a characteristic sermon, James Axley exhorted, and I followed. In those days we gave them sermon upon sermon, exhortation upon exhortation.

On December 17 we reached Charleston, and our bishops were received as angels from God. During the route over the mountains Bishop Asbury suffered exceedingly from cold. We had to ford deep streams, and dined frequently in the woods. We stopped at one place where a gentleman offered Bishop Asbury brandy and the Bible. He took the Bible, and let the brandy alone. In his journal he says: “I cannot easily describe the pain under which I shrink and writhe. The weather is cold, and I have constant pleuritic twinges in the side. In cold, in hunger, and in want of clothing, mine are apostolic sufferings.” I witnessed his intense suffering, and in a measure shared them. How I rejoice that the mountains are crossed for the last time, but never can I forget the toils, the struggles, the privations the bishop endured for the Church of God.

The conference was pleasant, and lasted one week. My visits to Charleston were always refreshing. The southern preachers I ardently loved, and the Charleston Methodists. What a bond of union then bound the North and the South together! O for the return of those days of peace and union and confidence! then my old heart would rejoice, and I would say, “Lord, lettest now thy servant depart in peace, for mine eyes have seen thy salvation.”

Our northern route was exceedingly irksome and tedious, not merely on account of the weather, which was very raw and cold, but of the severe illness of Bishop Asbury. Never was he more feeble, never less able to travel, and yet he would go on. There was only one thing that could stop him—the pale horse and his rider.

We left Charleston the last day of 1812. Father Asbury having lost the use of one of his feet by rheumatism, I had to carry him in my arms and place him in his sulky, and then to take him out and carry him into a church or private dwelling, and he would sit and preach. At Fayetteville I carried him into the church, and he preached from Zech. ix, 12, “the stronghold.” After the sermon he ordained three persons. He had one blister on him, and I carried him to our host and he put on three more. He traveled in great misery.

On the twenty-fourth, at Wilmington, I carried him into church, and he preached in the morning, and then met the society; and that not being enough for a sick, old, infirm bishop, he would preach again in the evening. After that he was in such misery that a poultice was applied to mitigate his pain.

The next day we rode twenty-four miles. The bishop’s feet were so swollen he could not wear a shoe. Almost any other man would have been in bed, but he loved his work better than his life. His record on that day is, “I have a fever and swelled feet.” The next day, “I suffer violent pain in my right foot;” and yet he says, “I have filled all my appointments, and answered the letters received.” Who else would have thus persevered amid pain and anguish, dying by inches to accomplish so much work?

On February 4 the bishop was as tickled as a little child. Why? Because he was able once more to put on his leather shoes. And he exclaimed, “O the sufferings I have endured, patiently I hope!” He did suffer most excruciatingly, but patience in him had its perfect work. On our way to Newbern the bishop preached every day, sometimes at considerable length. One service, ordination and all, lasted two hours. The bishop said, “I gained a fever and a clear conscience by my labors.” I would rather have had the clear conscience without the fever; but he often forgot himself in his anxiety to benefit others.

On Monday, February 8, we reached Newbern, N. C. The bishop writes, “I am in Newbern on crutches.” The Virginia Conference was held in a school-room. Both Asbury and M’Kendree were present. There was some excellent preaching from Stith Mead, Thomas L. Douglass, and the two bishops.

Jesse Lee preached from Acts xvii, 6, “These that have turned the world upside down,” etc. His propositions were, 1. That originally the moral world was right side up. 2. Sin had turned it wrong side up. 3. It was the design of the Gospel and the business of the ministry to restore it to its original position. The next morning nearly everything about the town looked ridiculous, being upside down. Wagons, boats, signs, gates, almost everything was bottom side upward. Some of the inhabitants were vexed, and some laughed; while the authors of the mischief enjoyed the fun, and laid it to the preacher, who they said had come to turn the town over that it might be right side up.

Of the conference Bishop Asbury says: “We had great order, great union, and dispatch in business. The increase here in membership this year is seven hundred; but ah, deaths and locations!” There were in the Virginia Conference this year no less than thirteen locations. No wonder the bishop groaned over such defections.

We reached Georgetown and were the guests of Henry Foxall.⁠[42] Here the bishop received an invitation from the British Conference to visit them, and promising to meet the expenses of his journey, which was very gratifying to him. He also had a call from the Rev. William Watters, now aged and feeble. This was the last time I ever saw him.

We went to Annapolis and thence to Baltimore. We tarried all night with our aged friend, Father Otterbein. Bishop Asbury says, “I gave an evening to the great Otterbein. I found him placid and happy in God.” That was an evening I shall ever remember; two noble souls met, and their conversation was rich and full of instruction. They had met frequently before; this was their last interview on earth—long ago they met in heaven.

Baltimore Conference commenced on the 24th. Jacob Gruber and I preached, in German, on Sunday in Otterbein’s Church. Bishop Asbury preached twice. At this conference Beverly Waugh, James M. Hanson, and others were ordained elders. On leaving Baltimore we took a tour through a part of the Peninsula.

The Philadelphia Conference assembled in Philadelphia on April 24, 1813. Both bishops were present. Bishop M’Kendree preached at the Union from James iv, 10; Bishop Asbury in St. George’s from Rom. i, 16.

At the conference in 1813 I ceased to travel with Bishop Asbury as his “help-meet.” I had been with Bishop Asbury since 1808. He thought I was needed among the Germans, and that I ought to be near my mother, who was living within the bounds of Schuylkill District, to which he appointed me.

When my character was examined the question was asked, “Is there anything against Henry Boehm?” “Nothing,” said the bishop, “against Brother Boehm.” He then rose and said, in his nervous and emphatic manner, “For five years he has been my constant companion. He served me as a son; he served me as a brother; he served me as a servant; he served me as a slave.” His earnest, emphatic manner caused some to smile and many to weep. Dr. Thomas F. Sargent laughed and said, “The bishop has given you quite a character.” Without egotism, I may say I always retained the bishop’s confidence. This is evident from the fact that six weeks after we parted he appointed me one of the executors of his last will and testament.

While with Mr. Asbury I attended to the financial affairs of the Book Room at conferences. This was during the war, when there was great trouble in remitting funds. John Wilson, book agent, died in 1810, and Daniel Hitt, the other agent, had to attend to the business at home. It was a greater task to attend to such complex business, to collect funds and remit drafts, than many would suppose. This brought me into a more intimate acquaintance with all the preachers North and South, East and West.

On the journals of the General Conference of 1812 the reader will find the following: “L. Myers moved that this conference express their gratitude to Brother Henry Boehm for his services to the connection in collecting and remitting moneys belonging thereunto, and that they vote him some compensation as an acknowledgement of their gratitude.” Their “thanks” were voted, but no “compensation.” Thanks are cheap. I saved the Book Room thousands of dollars. I was sub-agent. Daniel Hitt could not go, and to have sent a special agent would have involved much expense. I have never received any compensation, and never desired any.