CHAPTER XXVIII. 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.