CHAPTER XXIX. BISHOP ASBURY’S VISIT TO CANADA.

For many years Bishop Asbury had an ardent desire to visit Canada. I was with the bishop in July, 1809, near Lake Champlain, where he ordained “Joseph Sampson, a native of Canada, and sent him to be a missionary to his countrymen.” He adds, “The day of small things will be great; but the day is not yet come, rather it is still afar off. Patience, my soul! Do I not feel for the lost sheep? Yea, verily.” We had at that time two districts in Canada, and a little over two thousand members. The next year Joseph Sampson was presiding elder of Lower Canada District.

Mr. Asbury believed a bishop should travel through every part of his diocese, and as far as possible acquaint himself with every part of his work. When we were in Kentucky, in October, 1809, he wrote: “If spared, I shall see Canada before I die.”

The foundation of a great work had been laid there by William Lozee, James Coleman, Darius Dunham, Joseph Sawyer, Hezekiah C. Wooster, Samuel Coate, Joseph Jewell, Elijah Woolsey, Nathan Bangs, and others, to whom the Methodists in Canada owe a debt of gratitude. Annually the bishop had heard of the state of the work there since he appointed William Lozee the first missionary in 1791.

Mr. Asbury selected the interval between the session of the New England and Genesee Conferences for his visit to Canada. Had he not gone then he would never have made the journey, for the war which commenced the next year between Great Britain and the United States would have prevented, and by the time war was over the bishop would have been too feeble to have undertaken it.

According to his usual custom the plan was laid beforehand, his guide selected, and his appointments sent forward. At Barnard, Vt., Bishop M’Kendree and he separated, to meet at Paris, N. Y., the seat of the Genesee Conference, and he and I started for Canada. An ordinary man would have sought an interval of rest; but the laborious Asbury, though old and infirm, never thought of repose till the heavenly land should unfold its boundless loveliness and welcome him to its rest and refreshment forever.

Our guide was the Rev. Bela Smith, then preaching in Canada, on the Cornwall Circuit. We had a very severe time on our journey. We crossed Lake Champlain, and Mr. Asbury preached in a bar-room in Plattsburgh. The heat was intolerable. The roads through the woods, over rocks, down gulleys, over stumps, and through the mud, were indescribable. They were enough to jolt a hale bishop to death, let alone a poor infirm old man near the grave.

We crossed the Chateaugay and Salmon Rivers, and on Monday, July 1, reached a large Indian village called St. Regis. The St. Regis River, a beautiful stream, here enters the grand old St. Lawrence. These Indians, and there were some thousands of them, were a nation composed of the fragments of several once powerful tribes, who had been gathered many years before by a Roman Catholic priest. A part of the Indians belonged to the United States and the rest to Canada. The St. Lawrence River is not the line that here separates the two countries. The Indians belonging to Canada live one side of the line, those belonging to the United States on the other. They were chiefly Roman Catholics, and had a large church, with its steeple and bell, and a parsonage, in which the priest lived, near the bank of the St. Lawrence. The church was built about the beginning of 1700. They are known as the St. Regis Indians.

In entering the village, as Mr. Asbury was leading his horse across a bridge made of poles, the animal got his feet between them and sunk into the mud and water. Away went the saddle-bags; the books and clothes were wet, and the horse was fast. We got a pole under him to pry him out; at the same time the horse made a leap and came out safe and sound.

The French have intermarried with these Indians. Since our visit we have had, and still have, a mission among them and a little church. But we have had no great success. The beads, crosses, etc., suit the Indians best, for they strike their senses.

We crossed the St. Lawrence in romantic style. We hired four Indians to paddle us over. They lashed three canoes together and put our horses in them, their fore feet in one canoe, their hind feet in another. It was a singular load: three canoes, three passengers, (the bishop, Bela Smith, and myself,) three horses, and four Indians. They were to take us over for three dollars. It was nearly three miles across to where we landed. It was late in the afternoon when we started, and we were a long time crossing, for some part was rough, especially the rapids, so we did not reach the other side till late in the evening. Then the Indians claimed an additional dollar. They said, “four men four dollar,” intimating that three dollars could not be so easily divided among four. We cheerfully paid the additional dollar, and were full of gratitude for our crossing in safety. We might have shared the fate of Robert Hibbard, a preacher in Canada, who was drowned October 10, 1812, in the St. Lawrence, in crossing the ferry some distance below Montreal. His body was never found.

We arrived in Canada on July 1, 1811, landing at Cornwall, and about midnight we reached the hospitable dwelling of Evan Roy, who hailed the bishop’s arrival with joy, and gave him and his companions a welcome worthy of patriarchal times.

We found it warm in Canada, and the bishop suffered greatly. Here Henry Ryan, presiding elder of Upper Canada, met us. The next day Bishop Asbury preached, and Brother Ryan and I exhorted.

The day after there was a love-feast, and the Lord’s supper was administered, and the bishop preached. After meeting we rode up to the banks of the river, dined at Stephen Bailey’s, and then went to Brother Glassford’s. The bishop rode in Brother Glassford’s small close carriage, which he called a “calash,” and he inquired how they were to get out if they should upset. He had hardly asked the question before over went the carriage, and again the venerable bishop was upset; but fortunately no bones were broken; the saplings alongside of the road broke the fall, and he escaped uninjured.

On Thursday, July 4, we heard the firing on the other side of the river, celebrating the day. The war spirit was waking up in Canada as well as in the United States, and the people there answered by firing popguns by way of contempt. This woke up my patriotism, for I had always regarded the Fourth of July as the birthday of liberty, the Sabbath day of freedom.

On Friday the bishop preached in Matilda Chapel, in what was called the “German Settlement;” I followed him, preaching in German. We had a good time, and from appearances good was done. The bishop was delighted with the people. He wrote thus: “I was weak in body, yet greatly helped in speaking. Here is a decent, loving people. My soul is much united to them. I called upon Father Dulmage, and on Brother Hicks, a branch of an old Irish stock of Methodists in New York.”

We tarried over night with David Breckenridge. He was a local deacon. He married and baptized a great many people, and attended many funerals. In 1804 he preached the funeral sermon of Mrs. Heck, who died suddenly. She is said to have been a most estimable woman. She was the wife of Paul Heck, who was one of the first trustees of old John-street, and it is said she claimed to be the woman who stirred up Philip Embury to preach the Gospel.⁠[37]

On Saturday we rode twelve miles before breakfast to Brother Boyce’s, where we attended a quarterly meeting. The meeting was at Elizabethtown. I preached at noon on 1 Peter iii, 12. William Mitchel and Bela Smith exhorted. It was a time of power; many of God’s people rejoiced, and some mourners found converting grace. On Sunday we had a glorious time in love-feast and at the Lord’s supper. Bishop Asbury preached a thrilling sermon from Titus ii, 11, 12.

This was about sixty miles from Cornwall. The bishop greatly admired the country through which we rode. He says: “Our ride has brought us through one of the finest countries I have ever seen. The timber is of a noble size, the cattle are well shaped and well looking, the crops are abundant on a most fruitful soil. Surely this is a land that God the Lord hath blessed.”

This extract not only shows the estimate the bishop formed of that part of Canada, but his habits of observation, extending not merely to the inhabitants, but to the soil, the crops, the timber, the cattle, both to their shape as well as size. The bishop passed through this world with his eyes open.

On Monday we proceeded with Henry Ryan and E. Cooper, a young man from Ireland, to Cannoughway Falls to Colonel Stone’s. Father Asbury was very lame in his left foot with inflammatory rheumatism. He suffered like a martyr. On Tuesday we reached Brother Elias Dulmage’s, a very kind family, and Bishop Asbury preached in the first town church on Heb. x, 38, 39; Brother Cooper and I exhorted. The bishop was so poorly he could not proceed on his journey, and was obliged to lie by and rest, that he might be able to attend the Genesee Conference at Paris. He remained at Brother Dulmage’s, where he found a very kind home, and I went with Henry Ryan to his quarterly meeting in Fourth or Adolphus Town, by Bay of Quinte. We dined at Father Miller’s, a native of Germany. On Friday we rode to Brother John Embury’s, by Hay Bay. He was a nephew of Philip Embury, the apostle of American Methodism. He was awakened at the age of sixteen under his uncle’s preaching in New York. The next day, Saturday, Ezekiel Cooper preached at eleven o’clock, and Henry Ryan and I exhorted.

On the Lord’s day we had a glorious love-feast, and at the Lord’s supper Jesus was made known to us in the breaking of bread. In a beautiful grove, under the shade of trees planted by God’s own hand, I preached to two thousand people from Luke xix, 10, John Reynolds and Henry Ryan exhorted. The sparks flew and the fire fell. Henry Ryan was from Ireland. He was a powerful man in that day.

In order to get to the conference Brother Ryan and I were obliged, after this day of toil, to ride all night to meet the bishop. About eleven o’clock we reached Brother Miller’s, where we were refreshed. We slept for a while, and when it was time to start I had hard work to awake Brother Ryan, he was sleeping so soundly. At length he awoke, and we started, and wended our way through the dark, and just as the morning light made its appearance we reached Brother Dulmage’s. The distance we rode that night was thirty-five miles.

To our great joy we found Father Asbury better. We found also that notwithstanding his lameness and indisposition the ruling passion was so strong that he could not keep quiet; but he had sent round and got a congregation, to whom he preached in the chapel. He also met the society and baptized two children.

We were in Canada just a fortnight, during which time we visited a number of important places: Cornwall, Matilda, Augusta, Kingston, and Elizabethtown. Everywhere the bishop was treated as the angel of the Churches. I was also in Adolphustown, Hay Bay Shore, and Bay of Quinte. In Adolphustown the first regularly organized class was formed in Canada, and at Hay Bay the first Methodist church in Canada was erected.

The bishop preached six times in Canada, besides numerous lectures which he delivered to societies.

Bela Smith piloted Mr. Asbury and myself in crossing Chateaugay woods from Plattsburgh to St. Regis, and crossed with us into Canada. In the woods there was a log across the road, and it was very muddy. I rolled the log out of the road so we could pass. Bela Smith said, “I believe you can do anything.” “O yes,” I said, “anything that is necessary to be done.” Forty years afterward I met him in Forsyth-street Church at the New York Conference, and I asked him if he remembered Chateaugay woods. He said yes. And while we talked over the dangers we encountered in that perilous journey, and the sacrifices of the past, a young man listened to us, and with a significant look he tossed his head and said, “It is all Greek to me.” I have no doubt but he would have thought so if he had had as much difficulty in translating it as some of us had; but a brighter day has dawned upon the Church, and I rejoice that the young men are now called to make no such sacrifices, and to bear no such burdens. Mr. Smith was an excellent man. After suffering much he died in holy triumph, and was buried in Durham, N. Y. His excellent wife, whose name was Merwin, a relative of Rev. Samuel Merwin, sleeps beside him. He had two sons, Thomas B. and J. W., who have caught his falling mantle, and are members of the New York Conference.

The bishop being anxious to get to the conference at Paris, left Kingston on Monday to cross Lake Ontario for Sackett’s Harbor in an open sail-boat, dignified by the name of “packet.” We commenced our voyage with a very heavy head wind, and were obliged to beat all the way. We could have crossed in a few hours if the wind had been fair. A tremendous storm overtook us; the wind blew like a hurricane, and it was so dark the captain did not know where he was. He intended to have anchored at a harbor in Grenadier Island, but we passed it without knowing it. The captain swore and cursed the wind when he found he could not reach the island before dark, and then I thought we were in danger. A female passenger reproved him, and inquired if he was not ashamed to swear so. He made no reply, but he swore no more that night.

After we passed the island we looked back, and beheld a large raft with a fire upon it. When we saw the light we hailed those on the raft, and learned from them that we were near to some dangerous rocks. We should no doubt have found a watery grave if we had not seen the light on that raft. They had come to anchor in consequence of the storm.

We turned our old scow round and came to anchor alongside of the raft on the north side of Fox Island, Henry Ryan and the rest of our company left the vessel and went on to the island, where there was a house of entertainment.

Bishop Asbury and I remained on the boat till morning. There was no cabin; it was an open boat, and the wind was howling and the storm beating upon us. In order to make the bishop as comfortable as possible I made him a bed, covered him with the blankets we carried with us, and fixed the canvas over him like a tent, to keep off the wind and the rain. Then I laid down in the bottom of the boat, on some stones placed there for ballast, which I covered with some hay I procured at Kingston for our horses.

At midnight a sudden squall struck our frail bark; the canvas flapped and awoke and alarmed the bishop. He cried out, “Henry, Henry, the horses are going overboard.” I quieted his fears by telling him that all was safe, that it was merely the flapping of the sail in the midnight winds. He then lay down again and was quiet till morning. The reader will remember that I had no sleep the night before, but traveled nearly forty miles; and on the lake it was difficult to sleep under the circumstances I have described. No shipwrecked mariner who had endured the darkness of a stormy night on the ocean was ever more rejoiced to see the light of the morning than ourselves. “Truly light is sweet, and a pleasant thing it is to behold the sun.”

In the morning we went on to Fox Island and took our breakfast, which tasted good, as we lay down the night before supperless. Then we set sail for Sackett’s Harbor, and arrived there about two in the afternoon in safety, after the perilous storm and tedious night, and we were never more glad to set our feet on terra firma.

We dined at Sackett’s Harbor, and then set out in a thunder-shower toward the seat of conference. It was singular to see the feeble old bishop, who had such a rough passage across the lake, moving forward in a heavy rain, amid lightning and thunder, showing that in his estimation “the king’s business required haste.” In his journal he speaks of his sufferings: “My foot swelled, and was very painful.” “I have passed a night in great pain and disquietude.” Friday, “Sore, lame, and weary.”

On Friday we reached Paris, where we met with Bishop M’Kendree, and the old veterans were overjoyed to meet each other. Bishop Asbury wrote: “My spirit rejoiced with dear Bishop M’Kendree; he nursed me as if I had been his own babe,” We were kindly entertained at Brother Elijah Davis’s.

It was a very pleasant and harmonious conference. On Thursday evening it adjourned, to meet the next July at Niagara, Canada.

Loring Grant, who still lives, an old veteran, and Isaac Puffer, known as chapter and verse, or as a traveling concordance, were ordained deacons. The latter has fallen asleep. Charles Giles, George Harman, and others were ordained elders. They elected their first delegates to General Conference, William B. Lacy, Anning Owen, Timothy Lee, James Kelsey, Elijah Batchelor, and William Snow. It is singular they did not send one of their presiding elders, Gideon Draper, William Case, or Henry Ryan.

The next day Bishops Asbury and M’Kendree and myself set out for Wilkesbarre, accompanied by Gideon Draper, who was then a young man. Bishop Asbury carried his crutches with him, and his leg pained him so we were obliged to stop at a house and get some vinegar with which to alleviate his misery by bathing it.

We reached Kingston and put up with Elijah Shomakers. On Sunday morning the Methodists in Kingston had a rich treat: Bishop Asbury preached a sermon on the Pharisee and the publican in his own peculiar style; Bishop M’Kendree preached immediately after from 1 Cor. i, 23, 24, on preaching Christ crucified, and the effects of such preaching upon different hearers. At five o’clock Bishop Asbury preached at Wilkesbarre from 2 Cor. vi, 1, 2, “We then as workers together,” etc.

Bishop Asbury thus notices the labors of this Sabbath: “Sabbath, August 4, 1811.—Preached in the Methodistico-Presbyterian Church at Kingston. It was a time of freedom, and words were given me to speak, which were felt by preachers and people. I preached at Wilkesbarre and had a liberal season.” We were invited to Judge Fell’s, and were treated kindly.

On Friday, after intense suffering on the part of Bishop Asbury, we reached my father’s. No wonder the bishop wrote: “My flesh is ready to think it something for a man of sixty-six, with a highly inflamed and painful foot, to ride nearly four hundred miles on a stumbling, starting horse, slipping or blundering over desperate roads, from Paris to this place, in twelve days.”

We tarried here longer than usual, from the 9th to the 20th. Thus I had a fine opportunity for a final visit with my much loved father. On Sunday Bishop Asbury preached at Boehm’s Chapel from Rom. viii, 11-18. It was the last time my father ever heard Bishop Asbury preach. I preached in the afternoon from 1 John i, 9; the last time my father ever heard his son Henry.