CHAPTER XI. DAUPHIN CIRCUIT, 1803-4.

This circuit was very large, and the people were mostly Germans. We had thirty appointments, and at twenty of them we preached in German. Under the first sermon I preached in German one was converted. After a time it was as easy to preach in the one language as the other. Jacob Gruber was my colleague, and we both preached in our vernacular. We held union, or what were called “friendly meetings,” where the Methodists and the “United Brethren in Christ” met in harmony, and the ministers took turns in preaching. These were meetings of great interest to the Methodists. It gave them access to many they could not otherwise have reached.

We held one of these meetings in Columbia in August. Multitudes were present. James Thomas preached the first sermon;⁠[8] then my father preached in German from Gal. vi, 15, 16; then I preached in English from Isa. liv, 13. Thus we had three sermons in the forenoon without any intermission. In the afternoon three of the United Brethren held forth: Smith, Hershy, and Shaefer.

To show how we worked at that day I will give an account of a few days with Jacob Gruber. At Johnstown, on Sunday, August 28, Brother Gruber preached at eight o’clock in German on Christ and him crucified. At twelve he preached again on “the Lord openeth the eyes of the blind.” I exhorted both times, and at four o’clock preached at Millerstown in English from Acts x, 35. Brother Gruber exhorted in German. We lodged at Henry Myers’s. On Monday evening Brother Gruber preached in German on the way of life and the way of death, and I exhorted in English. On Tuesday we went to Harrisburgh, but on our way there I preached at Brother Neiding’s, one of the ministers of the United Brethren, in German, from Psalm xix, 11: “And in keeping of them there is great reward.” Brother Gruber exhorted. This was a melting time. At night Brother Gruber preached in Harrisburgh on Felix trembling, a sermon full of alarm to delayers. He preached in German, and I exhorted in English. It was necessary that we should do so, for we had a mixed congregation. I sometimes preached in German, and then interpreted it in English; at other times I would preach in English, and then give the same sermon in German.

On Monday, September 5, I wrote: “I begin to feel as if I should be able to give the devil some heavy blows in my mother tongue before all is over.” I was greatly encouraged among the Germans, as will be seen by another extract. “September 14. The prospect is good in almost every preaching place. I feel as if the Lord was about doing a great work among the Germans. Glory to God, the fields are blossoming, and I begin to feel more liberty in preaching in my mother tongue.”

In October I attended a meeting of the United Brethren at George Zoeler’s, west of Reading. I heard some of their great preachers: Father Tracksel, Newcomer, Kemp, and Gueting. I greatly profited by their preaching; it was a fine school for me.

On October 22 the yearly meeting of the United Brethren was held at my father’s. Quite a number were converted during the meeting, and others were filled with the wine of the kingdom. Their meetings generally lasted three days, and were seasons of great interest.

I had made an appointment to preach in the court-house at Reading, but the commissioner refused to give up the key, so a large number who had assembled were disappointed. There was in this town a deep-rooted prejudice against the Methodists, which continued for years. When I passed through Reading in 1810 with Bishop Asbury the boys laughed at us, and said, “There go the Methodist preachers.” They knew us by our garb, and perhaps thought it no harm to ridicule us. In 1822, when on Lancaster Circuit, I succeeded in planting Methodism in Reading, and formed the first class there, where I had been shut out a score of years before. This I considered quite a triumph. We then put up at a public-house, for there was no family to entertain us. Some young men rented the school-house for us to preach in, but we still met with much opposition and ridicule.

There was a shop in the neighborhood of the school-house where some men used to meet together. One of the company, a young man, undertook to mimic the Methodists. He went on to show how they acted in their meetings. He shouted, clapped his hands, and then said he would show how they fell down. (The Methodists in that day would sometimes fall and lose their strength.) He then threw himself down on the floor, and lay there as if asleep. His companions enjoyed the sport; but after he had lain for some time they wondered why he did not get up. They shook him in order to awake him. When they saw he did not breathe they turned pale, and sent for a physician, who examined the man and pronounced him dead. This awful incident did two things for us. 1. It stopped ridicule and persecution. Sinners were afraid, and no marvel: “Behold, ye despisers, and wonder, and perish,” etc. 2. It also gave us favor in the sight of the people. They believed that God was for us, and if he would thus vindicate us we must be the people of God.

Little do the present Methodists of Reading know of our early struggles and difficulties. Now they have two churches, Ebenezer and St. Paul’s, and Reading is the head of a district, which is not larger than my circuit in 1803.

Harrisburgh was another of our preaching places. I was in the neighborhood of where Harrisburgh now is in 1793. It was then called “Harris’s Ferry,” from John Harris, its founder, whose grave is there. In 1803 it was a small place, and Lancaster was then the capital of Pennsylvania. We had very hard work to get a foothold in Harrisburgh. We preached mostly in German, and had only a small class in 1803. In my journal I wrote most discouragingly, as will be seen by the following extracts: “Friday, November 11, 1803, I preached to a few from Gal. vi, 9. Hard work in this town rowing against wind and tide; but I trust in the Captain of my salvation.” Again: “Friday, April 6, I preached in Harrisburgh. The people in this town are the next thing to inaccessible.”

Harrisburgh was then a small village; it did not become a borough till five years after I was there. We did not then cross the Susquehanna on a bridge that cost $150,000, but in an old scow. Horse-boats were not then in existence. Most of the inhabitants were Germans.

We were kindly entertained at Friend Zollinger’s, a very fine family, who afterward became Methodists. What has God wrought? Now we have in Harrisburgh five hundred members and forty-eight probationers, and a beautiful church edifice worth nineteen thousand dollars.

Columbia was another of our preaching places. I was at this spot in 1791, when it was called “Wright’s Ferry,” from John Wright, a Quaker preacher, who came from England, and was the original land proprietor. Methodism was introduced here near the close of the last century. In 1803-4 we had a small society of very lively members, among whom were John Mitchell, brother of William and James Mitchell, traveling preachers, Brother Gough, an Englishman, and others. In Columbia we have now a fine house of worship worth $11,000, a parsonage worth $1,800, and a membership of two hundred and fifty.

My presiding elder was James Smith, a native of Ireland, and a man of large frame. There being several of that name in the conference, we used to call him “Big Jimmy,” to distinguish him from “Baltimore James” and “Delaware James.” In the days of his glory and strength he was quite a preacher.

I took a tour with him for several days. He preached in English, and I immediately translated his sermons into German. There was no other way by which he could get access to the people or be understood by them, for many of them had never heard a sermon in English. German was the pioneer language, and prepared the way for the English. I could have accomplished but little there if I had not been able to preach in German.

We were all the time breaking up new ground, entering new fields, stretching ourselves beyond ourselves. It was pioneer work.

My colleague, Jacob Gruber, soon went to another field of labor, and I was left alone on this large circuit. He was a fine intelligent looking man, and his countenance often expressed a thing before his tongue uttered it. He had a German face and a German tongue, and often looked quizzical. He wore a drab hat, and a suit of gray cut in Quaker style. With a rough exterior, but a kind heart, it was necessary to know him in order to appreciate him. A more honest man never lived, a bolder soldier of the cross never wielded “the sword of the spirit.” As a preacher he was original and eccentric. His powers of irony, sarcasm, and ridicule were tremendous, and woe to the poor fellow who got into his hands; he would wish himself somewhere else. I heard him preach scores of times, and always admired him; not only for his originality, but at all times there was a marvelous unction attending his word. He had many spiritual children, some of whom entered the ministry; among others, Alfred Brunson of the Wisconsin Conference. I do not mean to justify his eccentricities; but we should remember religion does not alter our natural constitution. I might relate many anecdotes respecting him, but have not space.

The Philadelphia Conference of 1804 was held at Soudersburg, commencing on May 28. At the adjournment of the General Conference, in Baltimore, Bishop Asbury hastened on to my father’s, and on Sabbath preached in Boehm’s Chapel. The place was called Soudersburg from Benjamin and Jacob Souders, the proprietors. They were both Methodists, Benjamin being a local preacher.

Methodism was introduced here in 1791, and a house of worship was built in 1801. The conference was held in a private room, at the house of Benjamin Souders, that the meeting-house might be used for preaching, which was done three times a day, except on the first day. There were one hundred and twenty preachers present, and the utmost order and harmony prevailed. My soul exulted at the idea of a Methodist Conference in my native county; it was an era in the history of Methodism in that region. Bishop Asbury preached twice during the session. The influence of the conference was beneficial in all that region. There were strong men at the conference, and some very powerful preaching.

I was appointed to Dauphin Circuit. My colleague was Anning Owen, who had charge of the circuit, greatly to my relief. William Colbert was my presiding elder.

This, as has been seen, was a large and laborious circuit; it included Boehm’s Chapel and Lancaster, as well as many other places. We had hard work to get a foothold in Lancaster, and met with powerful opposition. Having no church there, we preached in the market, and those of the baser sort annoyed my colleague and myself exceedingly. Once while I was preaching, and there was some disturbance, I saw a man coming toward me from the tavern. He seemed to be full of wrath, and pressed through the crowd toward my pulpit, which was a butcher’s block, as if he intended violence. I kept on preaching, throwing out some hot shots, when suddenly he stopped, his countenance changed, and the lion became a lamb, and I was preserved from the harm he no doubt intended I should suffer.

Brother Owen had tried to preach there several times, and once they so interrupted him, and even threatened him, that he bade them farewell, after telling them his skirts were clear from their blood, and he literally shook off the dust of his feet as a testimony against them. Then we abandoned the place, and for three years after no Methodist preachers visited it. It was not till 1807 I formed a class there, as will be seen in a following chapter. There was a small class earlier, but it soon died away.

One of our preaching places was David Musselmen’s. He lived about seven miles from Lancaster, between that and Marietta. It was a fine family, and their house one of the choice homes the early ministers loved to find. There was something very peculiar about his conversion. He was a Pharisee; thought himself good enough, a little better than most men, and looked on experimental religion as fanaticism. One day he was in his field at work, in the summer of 1800, when a storm suddenly gathered, and the clouds were dark and lowering. His little boy was with him. He saw they would not have time to reach the house before the rain fell, so they went under a large walnut tree that stood by the roadside. The rain fell in torrents; there was a flash of lightning, and quick as thought a loud peal of thunder followed. The tree was struck, and father and son fell to the ground, both senseless. When the father recovered he heard louder thunder—the thunder of Mount Sinai; all his sins were set in order before him; his guilty soul trembled. He had hoped that his darling boy was, like himself, only stunned; but, alas! he found he was dead. His self-righteousness was now all gone, and he cried out, “O Lord, I thank thee that thou hast taken the innocent and spared the guilty.” There under the tree, beside his dead son, he knelt down and sought the Lord with prayer and tears, and the Lord heard and answered. He united with the Methodist Church, and was a most excellent member. His house was the pilgrim’s rest, indeed it was a sanctuary, “for there the Lord commanded the blessing, even life for evermore.” My father, Thomas Burch, myself, and many others, have preached under his roof “the glorious Gospel of the blessed God.” He lived faithful many years, and then died happy in the Lord.

Thomas and Robert Burch were among my early associates in the Church. Their mother lived in the neighborhood of my father’s, and belonged to the society at Boehm’s Chapel, and so did her sons. She had a daughter who married a preacher. The mother was a woman of intelligence and decision of character. Years after she lived in Columbia, and I used to put up with her with Bishop Asbury when I traveled with him. It affords me pleasure, now she and her sons sleep in the grave, to make a record of her virtues. They were from Ireland; emigrated to this country in June, 1800, and settled in the neighborhood of my father’s. She was a widow, having lost her husband several years before. They had been converted under the ministry of Ireland’s great missionary, Gideon Ouseley, of whom they often spoke in the most exalted terms. Thomas, the oldest son, was my father’s and mother’s class-leader. The class met at my father’s house; it was an old class, formed before I was born. I heard some of his earliest efforts at exhortation and at preaching. I encouraged him and his brother Robert to enter the ministry. Robert joined the Philadelphia Conference in 1804, and Thomas in 1805. I have rode hundreds of miles with them, attended a great many meetings, and heard them preach scores of times. They soon occupied some of our most important stations with honor to themselves and usefulness to the Church. Thomas had a voice remarkably soft and musical, yet strong. He was one of the most eloquent and popular preachers of the day. In 1810, when he had been only four years in the ministry, he was stationed in Philadelphia. His mother at that time resided with him, and she was delighted with her clerical sons. To a person who was eulogizing the preaching of Thomas she inquired, “Do you think that is great? wait till you hear my Robert.” Thomas Burch died in Brooklyn on August 22, 1849, aged seventy, having been forty-four years in the ministry. He left a son, Thomas H. Burch, who is a member of the New York East Conference. Robert Burch was a member of Philadelphia, Baltimore, and Genesee Conferences. He traveled for a while with Bishop Asbury. He was a man of fine talent, great simplicity of character, and honest integrity. He died July 1, 1855, aged seventy-seven.