CHAPTER XXII. FIRST VISIT TO NEW YORK CITY—NEW YORK AND NEW ENGLAND CONFERENCES.

On Monday, May 7, 1809, we left Newark for New York. Crossing the beautiful Passaic river, and then the Hackensack, we passed a singular elevation called Snake Hill, and then through Bergen, an old Dutch town almost as old as New York. From Bergen Hill we had a magnificent view of the beautiful bay of New York and of the city. For the first time I beheld the noble Hudson. At Powles Hook we crossed the river. There was no Jersey City then. The spot where that city now is appeared to be a kind of island of sand. There were scarcely any houses. Jersey City was not incorporated till 1820; now it has thirty thousand inhabitants, and we have four beautiful Methodist churches there.

Our place of entertainment in New York was John Mills’s, near the corner of Fulton-street and Broadway. He was an excellent man, an elder in the “Brick” Presbyterian church, (Dr. Spring’s.) His wife was a charming woman, and belonged to the John-street Methodist church. They were wealthy, and left much property to their descendants. They both possessed catholic spirits, and theirs was a home for all Christian ministers.

In the evening I went for the first time to the old church in John-street, built by Philip Embury, called “Wesley Chapel,” the first in the world named after Mr. Wesley. What thoughts crowded my mind as I entered this cradle of Methodism! What rich and hallowed associations cluster around this original home of Methodism on this continent! I heard a sermon from James i, 27, on pure religion. The next evening, in the Bowery Church, I heard Samuel Cochrane preach from Rom. v, 1, on justification by faith. He had a powerful voice and was not afraid to use it.

On Tuesday morning at four o’clock we were alarmed with the cry of “Fire, fire, fire!” It was no false alarm; about thirty houses were burned. It was truly affecting to see parents and children and the aged and helpless turned out into the street, not knowing where to go. It was the first large fire I had ever witnessed.

May 10. The New York Conference commenced its session in John-street. This was the first time I ever beheld the men that composed this conference. This was Bishop M’Kendree’s first visit as superintendent, and most heartily they welcomed him. There was great love and unanimity among the brethren. On Friday Bishop M’Kendree preached an ordination sermon that was much admired. His text was 2 Cor. v, 20, “Now then we are embassadors for Christ,” etc. After the sermon Bishop Asbury ordained twelve deacons, among whom were William Swayze, a most blessed man, who did noble execution afterward in Ohio; Lewis Pease, distinguished for his zeal and eloquence; and Phineas Rice. When the case of the latter came up the conference voted that he was “too funny,” and passed the resolution that Bishop M’Kendree should reprove him. The bishop did so. Years after Mr. Rice said, that as he had never been to conference before he supposed that this was the regular process that all young ministers went through, and therefore did not feel at all unpleasant.

At that time our conferences were held with closed doors, and local preachers and probationers were not permitted to be present until they were received into full membership.

Five were ordained elders; ten were received on trial, among others the excellent Coles Carpenter, Robert Hibbard, who was drowned in the St. Lawrence, Isaac Puffer, who was known as the traveling concordance, and the amiable Marvin Richardson. He is the only survivor, enjoying a green old age, as straight as he was fifty years ago. He resides at Poughkeepsie, greatly esteemed.

On Sabbath there was a great love-feast in the Hudson Church, now Duane. There were fourteen hundred guests at the feast. I wrote in my journal: “It was a blessed time; O my soul, never forget the gracious visitation this morning! Many cups were made to run over in loud acclamations to God and the Lamb.” Bishop Asbury preached in the morning, in John-street, from Mark x, 23, and in Hudson Church in the afternoon, from Rev. ii, 10.

On Monday evening, by special request, I preached in German, in the English Lutheran Church, from Luke xix, 10, “For the Son of man is come to seek and to save that which is lost.” Great attention and great solemnity. Twice more I preached during the week in the Bowery Church, (now Forsyth-street,) and in the English Lutheran school-house.

Here I saw for the first time the excellent but eccentric Billy Hibbard. When the roll was called the secretary read the name “William Hibbard.” There was no response, and Bishop M’Kendree said, “Brother Hibbard, why don’t you answer to your name and not keep the conference waiting?” “I will,” said Mr. Hibbard, “when he calls my name.” “Is not your name William?” “No, sir.” “What is it?” said the bishop. “Billy,” was the answer. “Billy!” said the bishop, with great emphasis; “that is a little boy’s name.” “I know it,” said Mr. Hibbard; “I was a very little boy when my father gave it me.” Then the conference was convulsed with laughter.

When his character was examined it was objected that he was practicing medicine. Bishop M’Kendree inquired, “Brother Hibbard, are you a physician?” “I am not,” he replied; “I simply give advice in critical cases.” “What do you mean by that?” asked the bishop. “In critical cases,” said Mr. Hibbard, “I always advise them to send for a physician.”

There were one hundred and twenty preachers belonging to this conference. It began in peace and fellowship, which seemed to increase toward the close, and then a gracious shower of blessings descended on the preachers.

The trustees of the Methodist Church in New York were ever kind to Bishops Asbury and M’Kendree, and they took good care of their horses. As a part of the history of the times, and as a curiosity, and to show the generosity of the trustees, I transcribe an old bill that has been carefully preserved in good order fifty-five years:

1809.	Bishop Asbury,
To Peter Alexander Allaire, Dr.
20th May.	To keeping 3 horses from 8th of May, on hay, at 4s	£7	4	0
	To 9 quarts oats per horse, per day for each horse, say 27 quarts per day, 324 quarts, at 4d	5	8	0
	To keeping 1 horse from 8th of May, on hay, at 4s	2	8	0
	To 78 quarts of oats, at 4d	1	6	0
	To bleeding bishop’s horse, phisick, fetching, etc.	0	16	0
		£17	2	0
		$42 75
Received payment from Mr. Abraham Russel,
Peter Alex’r Allaire.

Abraham Russel was a noble man; he was indeed a pillar in the Methodist temple. The three horses, one was Bishop Asbury’s, the other Bishop M’Kendree’s, the other mine. The bill was made out to Bishop Asbury. At another time Bishop M’Kendree paid for his horse-keeping. When the trustees heard of it they sent him an apology and refunded the money.

On Saturday we went to Tuckahoe, and were kindly entertained at one of the bishop’s choicest homes, Bishop Sherwood’s. Pages might be written concerning this most excellent family. Nowhere did the bishop find warmer hearts or meet with a kinder reception than in the Sherwood cottage. On Sabbath the bishop preached in the morning at Sherwood’s Chapel. This old chapel still remains in all its glory, and has been a little improved.

The site was given by the Sherwoods; the ground was staked out by Bishop Asbury, and the plan of the church given by him. It is in a valley at the foot of a hill, and surrounded by beautiful locust trees. There is a burying-ground connected with it, where the early Methodists sleep.

In the afternoon we went to New Rochelle, and were the guests of Peter Bonnets, one of the oldest Methodists in that place. He was a descendant of the Huguenots, formerly an Episcopalian, and one of the first trustees of the Methodist Church in that place, which was organized in 1791.

Crossing the Byram River, which is the dividing line between New York and Connecticut, I found myself in the land of steady habits. We reached Norwalk, a place famous in the history of our country. It was burned in 1779 by Governor Tryon. It has an important position in the history of Methodism, for here in 1789 Jesse Lee first planted the tree of Methodism in New England, and now one hundred thousand Methodists in the New England states sit under its shade and partake of its fruit with delight. Here resided Absalom Day. He was a potter. He lived at what was called the “Old Well.” In this (Fairfield) county the first class was formed in New England, and the first Methodist house of worship built, and called “Lee’s Chapel,” in honor of Jesse Lee.

The bishop preached that evening at Brother Day’s, from Rom. xvi, 24, the apostolic benediction, “The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you all. Amen.” The Methodists had no house of worship then in Norwalk. Many strong Methodist ministers were born in this county: Nathan Bangs, D.D., Heman Bangs, William Thacher, and many others.

We passed on through Fairfield and Bridgeport to Stratford, where we stayed at Thaddeus Peck’s, one of the bishop’s old homes, then through Milford, one of the oldest towns in the state, to New Haven, the City of Elms, no doubt the most beautiful city in America; and here is Yale College, one of the oldest in the land. We were entertained here at Pember Jocelin’s.

We journeyed on through beautiful towns to Saybrook, on the Connecticut. This received its name from Lords Say and Brook, who procured a large patent of land, of which this was a part. Here the famous “confession of faith” was drawn up in 1708 known as the “Saybrook Platform.” There was much all along this route that was enchanting: riding most of the time in view of Long Island Sound, then crossing the rivers and beholding the harbors, then through neat and beautiful villages. It was the last of May, and the peach and other trees were in blossom. Everything looked beautiful: flowers blooming, birds singing, nature having put on her loveliest robes, and the air perfumed as if with sweet incense.

The bishop rode in a carriage and I on horseback. The weather or something else had such an effect upon the bishop’s horse that day that twice he started to run away, and it was as much as he could do to hold him, so he took Henry’s horse and rode on his back, and Henry rode in the chaise, and had no difficulty in managing the bishop’s horse.

In the evening we reached New London, and put up with Mr. Douglass. The bishop preached at night to two hundred hearers from 1 John ii, 5; I preached next morning, at the early hour of five, to one hundred hearers, from Matt. v, 6; then we crossed the Thames in a flat-bottomed sail-boat. The wind being fair we were soon over. Journeying on, we entered Rhode Island, and crossed the beautiful Narraganset Bay to Newport. Here we were the guests of Samuel Merwin, the stationed minister. He was a noble man, then young and in his glory. He was all courtesy and attention; a Christian gentleman. The bishop preached at Newport on Sabbath morning and afternoon, and I in the evening.

On Monday we visited Fort Wolcott. Here the bishop preached to the soldiers from Isaiah lv, 6, 7. Then we went to the school and the hospital, talking and praying with the soldiers who were sick. I addressed a number of German soldiers by themselves, then I gave them the Methodist German tracts, a pamphlet on “The Character of a Methodist,” and the tract on “Awake Thou that Sleepest,” etc. Among them was a young man named Shellenbuerger, a native of Switzerland, who had been taken from his friends at eleven years of age by Napoleon Bonaparte, and then by the British; afterward he came to America, where he enlisted. He was very serious, and thankfully received the tracts.

Captain Beal had charge of the fort. He was a fine man, a Christian gentleman, a Methodist. The bishop greatly admired the order and discipline at the fort; indeed, he was an admirer of discipline everywhere, in the family and in the Church.

On we rode through various towns and villages, preaching Jesus, till Saturday, when we reached Boston, and were there entertained by Widow Lewis. We had but two chapels then in Boston, the “Old” and the “New.” The bishop preached in both, and so did I. Elijah R. Sabin and Philip Munger were the stationed preachers in Boston, both good men and true.

The next day we went to Waltham, and were entertained by Abram Bemis. He possessed much of the spirit of Abram of old, who was given to hospitality, and who entertained strangers and sometimes angels. George Pickering married into this family. There were four generations living in that house: the great-grandfather, Abram Bemis, was in his ninety-second year; and the oldest grandson, Asbury Pickering, was about twelve. This was one of the leading families of Methodism in New England. The bishop preached here from 2 Peter iii, 14.

The next day found us at Lynn, the cradle of Methodism in Massachusetts. The first Methodist chapel was built here; the first New England Conference was held here; and Enoch Mudge, the first native preacher in New England, was born here. We put up with Benjamin Johnson. The bishop preached on Thursday from Hab. ii, 3; and I the next morning at five o’clock from Psalm xxxiv, 8, “O taste and see,” etc. I have had the honor of preaching in the oldest house of worship in Massachusetts, as well as the oldest on the Peninsula, and the oldest in America.

We passed through many important places: Marblehead, Salem, Newburyport, etc., to Portsmouth, New Hampshire. This was my first introduction to the old Granite State. We put up at Friend Hutchins’s, and stayed over the Sabbath, the bishop preaching twice and I once.

On Monday we started for Monmouth, in the Province of Maine. (Maine was then attached to Massachusetts, and was not admitted into the Union till 1820.) We fell in with John Broadhead, George Pickering, and Elijah Metcalf, who were on their way to conference. They were most excellent company. We went as far as Saco Falls, and as Methodist homes were scarce we went on our own hook and put up at Moody’s tavern. The day we reached Monmouth we stopped at a tavern, and the following scene is described by the Rev. Ebenezer F. Newell: “After we had rested half an hour Bishop Asbury said, ‘We must have prayers before we leave; I will go and give notice to the landlord, and some of you must pray.’ I followed him to the bar-room to learn his way of proceeding in such a case. He said, ‘Landlord, we are going to have prayers in our room, and if you or any of your family wish to attend we should be happy to have you.’ ‘Thank you, sir,’ he replied; ‘please wait until I speak not only to my family, but my neighbors.’ Soon they flocked in; we sung and prayed, and melting mercy moved our hearts. When our bill was called for we were told there was no demand against us, and were requested to call again.”⁠[23] The course of the bishop surprised Brother Newell, but to me it was almost an every-day occurrence in traveling. It was Asbury’s invariable custom. Even the night before, where we put up at the tavern, the bishop proposed having prayers; they objected, but he insisted upon it, so we had prayers both evening and morning.

On Thursday, June 16, 1809, the New England Conference commenced its session. Both Asbury and M’Kendree were present. This was Bishop M’Kendree’s first visit to New England as superintendent, and everywhere he was regarded with peculiar interest. We put up with a Brother Derbin. There was peace and good order throughout the session from beginning to end. There was a camp-meeting held in connection with the conference. I preached on the camp-ground to about eight hundred on Friday, from Matt. xi, 28, 29.

Doctor Stevens in his Memorials says: “M’Kendree was present, but we have no notice of the part he took in the proceedings.” Perhaps I alone am left to supply the deficiency. First, he presided, with dignity, a part of the time. Secondly, he preached two never-to-be-forgotten sermons: the first on Saturday at noon, from Rom. vi, 22, “But now being made free from sin, ye become servants to God, and have your fruit unto holiness, and the end everlasting life.” The dignity, freedom, fruit, and end of a Christian were dwelt upon, after which Bishop Asbury ordained twenty-two deacons. At three o’clock John Broadhead preached from John iii, 1, “Behold what manner of love,” etc. Adopting love was his glorious theme, which he handled in a workmanlike manner.

Sunday was a high day in Monmouth; we had five sermons. At six in the morning Bishop M’Kendree preached from Rev. ii, 10, on fidelity unto death, and its reward. At ten Bishop Asbury preached in the grove to three thousand people, from Isaiah xliv, 23, “Sing, O ye heavens; for the Lord hath done it,” etc. He regarded it as an “open season.” My impression is that Bishop M’Kendree ordained the elders after this discourse. This was their custom: one ordained the deacons, the other the elders. Then George Pickering preached from Luke xix, 5, on the talents given, and man’s responsibility.

At half past two Martin Ruter preached from Job xix, 25, 26, “For I know that my Redeemer liveth,” etc. Job’s knowledge of a living Redeemer and the resurrection of the body at the last day was his theme. These sermons were preached on the camp-ground to crowds. There was great attention and solemnity, and much good was done. Several professed to be converted. At five o’clock I preached in the meeting-house from Prov. xviii, 10. Thus ended this memorable Sabbath.

There were noble men at this conference: two future bishops, Joshua Soule and Elijah Hedding; also John Broadhead, Thomas Branch, Elijah Sabin, and many others. Eighteen were received on trial, among whom were George Gary, then a boy of fifteen, but he was a boy with a man’s head; John Lindsay, whose praise is in the Church; and Edward Hyde of blessed memory. Joshua Taylor was at this conference, though I think he then held a local relation.

Here Bishops Asbury and M’Kendree separated for a season, taking different routes, expecting to meet at the Western Conference, if not before. Thence we went to Danville in Vermont. This was my introduction to the Green Mountain State. On Friday we accompanied Solomon Sias to the house of his mother, an excellent woman. I wrote, “We are weary, but not forsaken.” We spent the Sabbath and preached in that neighborhood. In the evening I preached at Widow Sias’s, and John W. Hardy and Solomon Sias exhorted. On Tuesday the bishop preached in the meeting-house in Danville, while seated in a pew. No wonder the bishop admired the scenery during our late route, and wrote: “We have passed many a fertile hill, and saw many fruitful vales, through which flowed noble rivers.”

On Thursday we were at Montpelier, the capital of the state. The bishop admired the fine state-house, and said “it was worthy of the seat of government of Vermont;” and the splendid hotel, which he said “was an appropriate appendage to the state-house.”

On Friday the bishop preached at Mr. Fuller’s on Lake Champlain. Here he ordained Joseph Sampson an elder, and sent him as a missionary to his countrymen in Quebec. Sampson was a Canadian Frenchman, and talked broken English. In speaking of the Lamb of God he could not think of the word, so he said “God’s mouton,” the French word for sheep. He did not succeed in Canada, and afterward was a member of the Philadelphia Conference, and on my district. He was not a Samson physically or mentally or theologically. Becoming unsound in doctrine, and denying the divinity of Christ, he was expelled. He appealed to the General Conference, and the decision of the Philadelphia Conference was confirmed.

On Saturday we had the company of William Anson, presiding elder of Ashgrove District, who went with us through Vergennes to Bridport. I found Brother Anson a most genial man. He told me the Congregationalists were the “standing order” of ministers in Vermont, and all were taxed to support them. The Methodists having to support their own ministry thought it was not fair, so they petitioned the Legislature to have the law repealed. Their petitions were treated with contempt, and the inquiry was sneeringly made, “Who are the Methodists?” affecting to be ignorant of the existence of such a people. The Methodists in the state concluded that if this was the kind of treatment they were to receive it was time to show who they were; so they and their friends had an understanding, and at the election the next year there was, to the astonishment of many, a general turning over. The new governor and Legislature found out who the Methodists were, and the obnoxious law was repealed.

We tarried on Sunday night with Luther Chamberlin, who, I believe, was a relative of Pamerly Chamberlin, late of the New York Conference. Here we rested near the ruins of Fort Ticonderoga, which was taken in 1775 by Colonel Ethan Allen of Vermont “in the name of the great Jehovah and the Continental Congress.” This was the first fortress captured in the war of the Revolution.

On Tuesday we traveled along Burgoyne’s Road to Fort Edward. This was called Burgoyne’s Road because he made it through the wilderness for the use of his army. Here the bishop preached in the store of Dr. Lawrence to a large and attentive congregation. He preached the next day at M’Cready’s barn from Rom. viii, 1. Here were the ruins of an old fort built in 1755. Near here Jane M’Crea met with her tragical end, being cruelly butchered by the Indians. Here Burgoyne’s army waited six weeks for provisions, and thus lost the best part of the season, which seemed to be the beginning of his blunders. We have now at Fort Edward a splendid literary institute.

The next day we rode by Saratoga Lake to Ballston. Here the bishop preached in the bar-room of the tavern kept by General Clark, and he says “had life and liberty.” It was not every minister that could adapt himself to every place in preaching like the bishop.

On Saturday we visited the springs at Ballston, very celebrated then for the medicinal qualities of the waters.

The same day we rode forty miles to Kingsbury. Here at a quarterly meeting we met Bishop M’Kendree with several preachers. On Sunday Bishop Asbury preached in a grove to a thousand people from Matt. xvii, 5. I preached immediately after from 1 John i, 9. The bishop says in his journal, “Brother Boehm closed a meeting of three hours’ continuance.”

The next morning we started with the two bishops for Cayuga Lake. For several days we traveled together. Bishop Asbury preached, Bishop M’Kendree exhorted, and I closed with prayer. We passed Utica and reached Cazenovia, where Bishop M’Kendree parted with us to go to Pittsburgh by Lake Erie, and we took another route, expecting to meet at the Western Conference. We went to Manlius Square and to Auburn. The bishop wrote, “No food or rest to-day.”

We had quite a variety the next day: rain and mud and mud and rain. We rode six miles to Asa Cummins’s cabin, a humble place twelve feet square, but a warm reception within. The next day found us on one of the head branches of the Susquehanna, which was greatly swollen with heavy rains, so it was considered reckless to attempt to cross. No wonder the bishop wrote, “We had an awful time on Thursday in the woods among rocks and trees, living and dead, prostrate, barring our way. When we thought the bitterness of death was passed, behold the back-water had covered the causeway.” This was about two miles below Owego. We worked our passage round the Narrows with the utmost difficulty. However, we got safely through, to the astonishment of the people, particularly concerning our carriage. A gentleman by the name of Hathaway was very kind, and rendered us much assistance.

On Friday we rode to Tioga Point, Pennsylvania, to Dr. Hopkins’s. The Susquehanna was so high we could not cross, so the bishop preached in the academy from “Seek ye the Lord,” etc. Here he made this wonderful record, and who can read it without deep emotion? “Such roads, such rains, and such lodgings! Why should I stay in this land? I have no possessions or babes to bind me to the soil. What are called the comforts of life I rarely enjoy. The wish to live an hour such a life as this would be strange to so suffering, so toil-worn a wretch; but God is with me, and souls are my reward. I might fill pages with this week’s wonder.” Dr. Stevens, in his “Memorials,” says, “It is a pity he didn’t.” Is it not wonderful that he recorded as much as he did under the circumstances? I hope my journal will supply in some measure the deficiency. I was not merely a spectator of the wonderful scenes he hints at, but an actor. In the daily sacrifices and toils and sufferings I shared. To the bishop’s every-day martyr-like sufferings I was a witness, and it brings tears to my eyes now when I think of them. Our appointments were generally sent forward, and here, in consequence of heavy rains, swollen rivers, and muddy roads, we were eighty miles behind our Sabbath appointments. On Saturday, as the waters had abated, we crossed the Susquehanna, and rode to the mouth of Wyoming Creek, and put up at Stevens’s tavern. On Sunday we attempted to reach the place where George Lane was preaching, but we missed it. We met with an accident. The bishop says, “Brother Boehm upset the sulky and broke the shaft.” The only wonder is we did not upset twenty times where we did once. It was well I was in the sulky instead of the old bishop, or he might have fared hard. He might have had something worse than a “broken shaft:” a broken limb or a broken neck. This happened on Sunday; but we were traveling from necessity, not from choice. On Monday we went through the Narrows on the east side, not without considerable danger; then we crossed to the west side, dined at our friend Sutton’s, and came to Widow Dennison’s at Kingston. This is the place where Methodism was first introduced into Wyoming. My old colleague, Anning Owen, had the distinguished honor of being the pioneer.

This valley is far famed for its beauty. Campbell has immortalized it in song, and it is embalmed in history. At Kingston we have now a splendid seminary. The next morning we crossed to Wilkesbarre, a very fine place, the seat of justice for Luzerne County. We have now a Wyoming Conference. It did not look much like it then. This region is now the garden of Methodism.⁠[24]