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THE

LIFE AND LETTERS

OF

JAMES OSGOOD ANDREW,

BISHOP OF THE METHODIST EPISCOPAL CHURCH SOUTH.

WITH

GLANCES AT HIS COTEMPORARIES AND
AT EVENTS IN CHURCH HISTORY.

BY

THE REv. GEORGE G. SMITH, A.M.
“<Vicrory! Vicrory!’—His last words,

NASHVILLE, TENN.: ENN 2

SOUTHERN METHODIST PUB. HOUSE. ()
Jno. W. Burke & Co., Macon, Ga,

Suaw & BLALOCK, GALVESTON, TEXAS. Ip
1882. yey i
CopyrIGHT BY
GEORGE G. SMITH, Jr.
1882.

  
 

Trow’s

PRINTING AND BooKBINDING ComPANY,

201-213 East Twelfth Street,
NEW YORK.
Wedication.

TO

THE YOUNG PREACHERS OF THE TRAVELING CONNECTION
®
OF THE M. E. CHURCH SOUTH,

THIS STORY
OF ONE OF THE MOST FAITHFUL AND USEFUL OF THE FATHERS,
IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED BY

THE AUTHOR.
PREFACE.

HE gifted and saintly Bishop Marvin was selected

by the family as the biographer of Bishop An-
drew. There was a peculiar fitness in the selection,
and he readily acceded to the wish of the Bishop’s
children, and visited Alabama to secure material for
the work. He made all his arrangements to begin it
at once. The mandate of the Episcopal College sent
him around the world before he wrote a line. He
died soon after his return, and the materials he had
collected were returned to the friends in Alabama.
Another was then selected, a gifted man, who would
gladly have done the work, but that other and press-
ing duties forbade. |

I was then requested to undertake it. I cheerfully
consented, and now give the reader the result of my
labor.

I have attempted no more than a simple narration
of the events of his life, and an accurate portrayal of
his character.

The Rev. Mr. Rush, of the Alabama Conference,
son-in-law of Bishop Andrew, has materially aided me,
viii Preface.

and so has Judge Merriwether, another son-in-law, and
his gentle daughter, Annie, the Bishop’s grandchild.

The life of the man who was the central figure in
1844, brings a matter to the front which many would
be glad to see left in the obscurity which has been
gathering around it for these forty years goge by. I
certainly have no disposition to revive old animosities.
I do not think T have said anything calculated to do
so. It has been mine to narrate, not to acquit, nor to
condemn. The authority to which I have constantly
deferred in my narrative of these events is the ‘‘ Journal
of the General Conference of 1844.”

I have not attempted to give my authorities for the
facts of this book. I have consulted all the printed
literature bearing upon the subject within my reach,
as well as letters, journals, and the personal recollec-
tions of friends.

The work has been so long delayed that I have not
felt at liberty to hold it back for a longer time that I
might give it more careful preparation. Satisfied it
is in the main a correct picture of one of the ablest
and best of men, I give it to the Church, praying that
God will make it a blessing to it.

GEORGE G. SMITH.
MADISON, Ga,, August, 1882.
CONTENTS.

CHAPTER I.

PARENTAGE.—BIRTH.—BOYHOOD.—ENTRANCE INTO
THE MINISTRY.

1794-1812.

The Puritan Church at Midway, Liberty County.—John Andrew Born.—
The Revolution.—The New Purchase,—John Andrew a Schoolmaster.
—He Becomes a Methodist.—Takes a Circuit.—Marries Mary Cosby
and Locates.—James Osgood Andrew Born.—Boyhood in Elbert.—
Some of the Preachers.—The Camp-meeting.—His Conversion and
Call to Preach.—Lovick Pierce.—The First Sermon.—Recommended
to the Annual Conference............. odie side widiele wie mate neo PDs T5-4L

4

CHAPTER II.
THREE YEARS ON CIRCUITS.

1812-1815.

The Conference of 1812.—The Timely Gift.—The Appointment Received.
—The Salt Ketcher Circuit.—William Kennedy.—His First Letter
Home.—His Father's Letters to Him.—Thomas Darley.—Anecdote
from Bishop McTyiere.—Home Again.—Bladen Circuit in 1814. —The
Journey.—The Scotch Highlanders.—Hard Times.—Success in the
Word.—The Conference of 1814 —Milledgeville.—Asbury and Mc-
Kendree.—The Warren Circuit.—Incidents.—Letters...... Pp. 42-62
x Contents.

CHAPTER III.
ON A STATION.
1816-1823.

Charleston.—Appearance and Preaching.— Colleagues.— Ann Amelia
Macfarlane.—Her Parentage.—Marries Her.—Conference, 1816.—
Wilmington, N. C., 1817.—Stormy Voyage.—Kind Welcome.—Par-
sonage.—Church,—First Child.—Extracts from Journal. —Infidel Con-
verted.—Revivals,—Returned, 1818.—Happy Vear.—Letters to his
Father.—Columbia, S. C., 1819.—William Capers.—Methodism in
the City. —Parsonage.—Some Trials. —Revival.—Augusta, 1820-21.
—Augusta Methodism.—New Parsonage. —Asaph Waterman.—
Reminiscences of General Conference.—James Russell.—Savan-
nah, 1822~23.—Affliction.—Loses his Babe.—Narrow Escape from
Drowning. — Kindness of the People. — Bishop Roberts. — The
Singing Sister——Lewis Myers.—Conference.—Sent to Charleston

DSI saeus, Seiad Hea Oe aoe en bee Bee wisseiaceie eeeee PP. 63-156
CHAPTER IV.
DISTRICT WORK AND CHARLESTON STATION.
1824-1828.

Charleston Again.—The Charleston District.— Stephen Olin.—Samuel
Dunwody.—General Conference of 1824.—The Charleston Station.—
Yellow Fever.—Death of Asbury Morgan.—Letters.—Appointed to
Greensboro aid AMES 4 ..+0c< reves ncn nereies ere oleiaretaacate pp. 157-198

CHAPTER V.
GEORGIA AGAIN.
1829-1832.

Greensboro.—Athens.—Hope Hull.—The Protestant Methodist Church.
—Mr. Andrew’s Views on Freedom of Thought and Discussion.—
1829.—Athens.—Madison.—John Andrew's Death.—Sketch of his
Character.—Augusta Again.—Visit to the South Carolina Confer-
ence.—Missionary Address.—Bishop Wightman’s Account.—George
F. Pierce.—Resolves to go on a Mission.—General Conference in
Philadelphia.—Elected a Bishop............ Sarr CaS yaya ++PP. 199-239
Contents. xi

CHAPTER VI.
EPISCOPAL LIFE IN AUGUSTA.
1832-1836.

First Four Years of Episcopal Work.—Home Purchased in Augusta.—
First Tour.—Camp-meeting in Clarke.—Journey to Tennessee.—To
Mississippi.—Alabama Conference Organized.—Georgia Conference
at La Grange.—South Carolina.—Home Again.—Visit to Florida,
—Georgia Conference.— With Emory at Washington. — Northern
Tour in 1834.—Again in 1835.—Bishop Simpson’s Letter.—General
Conference at Cincinnati—Removal from Augusta to Chestnut
GLOVE isis seis eaisieewiain's Nee aanian Vesaee meee wer slesicls save caesD DP. 240-287

CHAPTER VII.

LIFE AT CHESTNUT GROVE, AND SECOND QUAD-
RENIUM OF EPISCOPAL WORK.

1836-1840.

Chestnut Grove.—Visitations in the Winter of 1836 and Spring of 1837.—
Visits North Carolina Conference in 1839.—Dr. Edwards’ Account of
Missionary Address.—Home Life at Chestnut Grove. ....pp. 288-304

CHAPTER VIII.

OXFORD LIFE.

1841-1844.

Emory College, Oxford.—Daughter’s IlIness.—Amelia Andrew's Fatal
Attack.—Her Death.—Tour to the West in 1842.—Letter to Bishop
Soule.—Visitation of 1843.—Iowa.—Indiana.—lIllinois.—Missouri.—
Arkansas,—TexaS.....ecsececseseecccssccarseeessses oessPPs 305-335
xii Contents.

CHAPTER IX.
DIVISION OF THE CHURCH.

1844-1846.

Second Marriage.—Happy Surroundings.—Getieral Conference in New
York.—Excitement on the Subject of his Owning Slavés.—General
Conference Proceedings.—His Speeches.—Passage of the Finley
Substitute.—Return to Georgia.—Resolution of Southern Delegates.
—Visitations.—Convention at Louisville. —Conference Tour in 1845.
—Géeneral Conference in 1846 ...... Satete sewer wenreninente Pp. 336-385

CHAPTER X.
METHODIST EPISCOPAL CHURCH SOUTH.

1847-1855.

First Book.—Episcopal Visitations.—Interest in Missions.—Mrs, An-
drew’s Sickness and Death.—Letters from Bishops Capers and
PHS incawde yilweees thaw eed (etna ake shelawee pp. 386-408

CHAPTER XI.
LIFE IN SUMMERFIELD.

1855-1861.

Panama.—Letter to Rush.—California.—Recollections of Dr. Fitzgerald.
—Return to Alabama.—Visits Oxford.—Virginia Conference.—Great
Sermon.—North Carolina Conference at Wilmington.—Florida Con-
ference.—Rest at Summerfield.—Visit to Georgia.—Death of Eliza-
beth Lovett.—Episcopal Tour.—Changes in his Old Conferences.—
Serious Attack of Sickness.—Compelled to Turn Back in Missouri.—
Remained at Home until May.—General Conference at Nashville.—
Episcopal Visitation.—Visit to Georgid.—Contributions to the Press.
—Visit to Texas, Changes. Missionary Enterprise.—Central Amer-
ican Mission...... oe ec eccece reece reneeerecossess sesbeesePDs 409-434
Contents. xiii

CHAPTER XII.
DURING THE WAR.

1861-1866.

His Political Views.—Letters to his Son.—Letter from General T. R. R.
Cobb.*-Tour of 1861.—Visit ta Jimmie in Camp.—Last Visits to
Henrietta.—Her Death.—Letters from Merriwether and Reply.—
Life in Summerfield during the War.—Merriwether’s House Sacked.
—Annie’s Account.—Letter to Merriwether.—Peace...... PP. 435-492

CHAPTER XIII.

LITERARY LABORS.

Qualifications for Authorship.—Work on ‘‘ Family Government.”—"' Mis-
cellanies.""—Newspaper Contributions.—Review Articles. .pp. 493-505

CHAPTER XIV.

RELIGIOUS EXPERIENCE.
Conversion.—Consecration.—Obedience.—Christian Perfection. —Faith in

Providence.—Instances of Interposition.—Submission to God's Will.
—Bishop Pierce's View ...........+000- Saad asi seer «Pp. 506-525
°

CHAPTER XV.

AT THE CLOSE.

LB66-1871... eee c ere cencs ce nst veces neecseereececces seeeeees PP. 526-562
THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF

JAMES OSGOOD ANDREW.

CHAPTER I.

PARENTAGE.—BIRTH.—BOYHOOD.—ENTRANCE INTO
THE MINISTRY.

1794-1812.

The Puritan Church at Midway, Liberty County.—John Andrew born.—
The Revolution.—The new purchase.—John Andrew a schoolmaster.
—He becomes a Methodist.—Takes a circuit.—Marries Mary Cosby
and locates.—James Osgood Andrew born.—Boyhood in Elbert.—
Some of the preachers,—The camp-meeting.—His conversion and
call to preach.—Lovick Pierce.—The first sermon,— Recommended to
the Annual Conference.

I N the days of Charles the First and his persecuting
archbishop, John White, the grandfather of John
Wesley was the pastor of a Puritan church in Dor-
chester, England. The times were stormy, and he re-
solved, with his church, to emigrate to Massachusetts,
and secured a grant of lands. Not far away was the
town of Plymouth, in which there was a sister church,
which was to go with him and his. The church at
Dorchester may not have emigrated; Dr. White cer-
tainly did not. The church at Plymouth did come to
16 The Life and Letters of

America, and established the town of Dorchester, Mas-
sachusetts. After fifty years this church sent out a
colony to South Carolina, and the town of Dorchester,
South Carolina, was established on the Ashley River,
fifteen miles from Charleston. The colonists and their
descendants remained here for fifty years.

In the meantime Georgia was settled, and as they
were cramped for lands, after due examination, and
after having secured a large grant from the Georgia
Colonial Government, they crossed the Savannah
River and settled some fifty miles south of the city of
the same name, at a place they called Midway, and
where they founded another Dorchester.

Among these colonists were two Andrews, James
and Benjamin. Benjamin is mentioned as having a
family. Which of these two was the grandfather of
James Osgood Andrew I cannot say; probably Ben-
jamin. .

The pastor of the church was Mr. Osgood. Ina
sketch of his parents by Bishop Andrew, published in
the Home Circle, he speaks of Mr. Osgood as his
uncle. I can find nowhere else any indication that
this was so, and am satisfied that it was the mistake of
the editor of the Home Circle, who was misled by
the statement of Bishop Andrew that his father was
brought up by his uncle and‘educated by Mr. Osgood.
It is certain John Andrew was much attached to his
old pastor, and named his son James in his honor.

The father of John Andrew was a very pious man.
He had regular family worship, and once a week read
a sermon to his family. While the son was quite a
small boy the father died, and he was brought up by
his uncle and educated by Mr. Osgood. He says he
SFames Osgood Andrew. 17

was not inured to hard labor, much to his after regret.
He had a very correct English education, and knew
something of Latin.

The old Puritan blood was the first Georgia blood to
boil when the fires of the Revolution began to blaze, and
John Andrew, then not quite grown, began to ride with
Screven. He was a partisan ranger during the war.

After the war ended he found his slaves gone and
his other property much injured, and he went from
Liberty County into the new purchase.

Five years before the Revolution began, Sir James
Wright, then Governor of Georgia, purchased from
the Indians a most beautiful and fertile country north
and west of Augusta, extending to the banks of the
Oconee. A part of this country was called Columbia
County, and into it John Andrew came to teach a
school. It was, for the time, rather thickly settled
with a fine class of settlers. He was either married
when he came or he married soon after. He lost his
first wife after the birth of her first child; married
again, and when she too had one child she died.

Although he was a member of the church at Midway,
and strictly moral, he does not seem to have been a
converted man. The Methodists came into this sec-
tion when they came to Georgia, and were making
quite a sensation init. The pathetic Major and the
fiery Humphries were sweeping through the country,
preaching as they went. The usual phenomena which
attend evangelical preaching when it is first given to
a simple-hearted people attended their labors. The
steady-going young Puritan heard of the noise and
confusion of the meetings, and decided to go and see for
himself. It is the same often-told story. He went to
18 The Life and Letters of

condemn them, and ended in condemning himself.
He cried for pardon and joined in society.

It was not long before he was called for. No man
could be a laggard in those days—the harvest was too
great, the laborers were too few; and so, in 1789, John
Andrew. began to ‘ride again, not with Screven this
time, but with Reuben Ellis, on the Cherokee Circuit,
in South Carolina, The next year he was in Burke
County, Georgia, and then he was on the Washington
Circuit, where he married a third time, and, of course,
located. a we 3

i. Just after the Revolution a ade of aenbas in-
duced by Colonel George Mathews, removed from their
own State, and settled on the Broad River, in Wilkes
County,-Georgia: Among these settlers was a Mr.
Cosby. He was from Spottsylvania County, and a
man well-to-do in the world.’ He-was, while in Vir-
ginia, an adherent, if not a communicant of, the Epis-
copal-.Church.- John Major, Thomas Humphries,
Richard Ivy, Hope Hull, had all preached in Wilkes,
and had built:up strong societies, and some of the best
people of the county-had-adhered to them. Among
these was the gentle Mary Cosby and her «sister.
They did not unite with the Methodists without oppo-
sition, and the following letter, carefully preserved for
nearly one hundred years, tells of how tender was the
sympathy they received from a worthy source. Dan-
jel Grant, who wrote it, was an Elder. in the church of
SaimtielDavies i in Virginia, and was still a Presbyterian
when he came from North Carolina to Georgia. The
Methodists, however, were the only preachers near
him, and he opened his house to them, and he, too,
_ soon joined in’ society.’ -He became a most deveten
Fames Osgood Andrew, 19

member, as did his son Thomas, then a married man,
who was one of the most useful laymen of his time.
They built the first church in Georgia, Grant’s Meet-
ing-house.

When this old father saw the gentle Polly Cosby
and her sisterso in need of sympathy and encourage-
ment, he wrote her thus:

“December 9, 1789.
‘‘ SISTER POLLY CosByY : .

“‘T use this friendly term from no other motive than
this. As you have and expect still to make choice of
the mode of worship which I myself have chosen (I
hope after mature deliberation), as also I trust you
have and do experience in your soul that love of
Christ, his ways and people, which hope I have-my-
self in some degree felt, and still, which I think unites
my soul to all the people of God of whatever name.

‘7 hear a report hath prevailed about Broad River,
that I was about to leave the Methodists and join the
Baptists, but it affords me no concern any farther
than for the sake of others, but be assured there is
nothing of it. I believe there are many good people
among them that I highly esteem, but I think their
doctrines and opinions have a dangerous tendency.

‘J was for many yearsa member of the Presbyterian
Church, and love and honor many of them, for though
they hold the same opinions for the most part with
the Baptist yet they don’t abuse them so much, and
as I have been for several years well acquainted with
Presbyterians, Baptists, and Methodists I am in some
measure the more capable to judge for myself.

‘‘ The Methodists, I know, are a people that are sat
20 The Life and Letters of

at naught by many, but for my part I hope to live and
die in fellowship with them. Class Meetings are the
ridicule of many, but I think it is the most blessed
means to keep up the life of religion in the soul al-
most of any other, and I don’t doubt you have often
been greatly blessed at such times, notwithstanding
all Satan, the world, and our backwardness can say
against it.

“T have been truly sensible of the many trials and
difficulties yourself and sisters have had to encounter.
since you have sat out in the service of God; but fear
not, greater is he that is in you, than he that is against
you; take notice of this precious word, Be faithful,
and all these things I hope will in the end work for
your good. When you are by grace enabled to sur-
mount ‘them you will then be better able to see and
shun the devices of Satan.

« Aim at more holiness of heart and life, and let all
your friends and those around you see by your
heavenly life and conversation what you profess to
be, viz., a follower of the meek and lowly Jesus.

‘‘T was glad to hear you have escaped the snare, so
artfully laid for you, and which I hope in God will
prove a blessing ; bear up under all the difficulties you
have to bear, and the greater will be your reward in
Heaven, and live near to the Lord, look continually
to him and he will support you if you faint not,

‘‘Encourage your Sisters in the good ways of God.
You have, I expect, all been happily united, and I
hope will remain so. Tell them from me that this
world has no pleasure compared with that of serving
and pleasing God. We shall all soon die, and our
business is to endeavor to escape the death that never
James Osgood Andrew. 21

dies, and so obtain a fitness for that blessed world
above where all our sorrows end and everlasting joy
takes place, and, while we live here, to live to the glory
of our gracious God, recommend him to others, and
enjoy his blessed presence and the light of his recon-
ciled countenance, which is better than life, and that
this may be your and your Sisters’ and my own happy
case, let us all earnestly strive, relying for assistance on
his almighty arm. Adieu, my friend, live in love and
peace, and the God of all Grace enable you so to do.

““DANL GRANT.”

The gentle girl heeded, if she needed not, the good
counsel of the saintly old man, and never left the
society till she went to heaven. When John An-
drew came on the circuit, a young man of thirty-two,
he wooed her and won her, and they were married.
Her father seems to have been living at this time, for
John Andrew speaks of a visit from Mr. Cosby two
years afterward. Location always followed marriage
in the early days of Methodism. The first man in
this section of the Church to break the rule was James
O. Andrew himself, and that was nearly twenty-five
years from this time. So John Andrew located.
He did not intend to cease from preaching, nor did
he do so, but he settled down to attend to secular
affairs. Alas for him that he did.

He was then thirty-four years old. He was not
strong in health, and by some means had lost all his
property and was deeply in debt. Those were the
days of imprisonment for debt, and he was in danger
of the debtor’s prison. He had left the home of his
kindred, he had lost all his estate, had already, young
22 The Life and Letters of

as he was, lost two wives. He had married a lovely and

‘devoted young woman who had left a home of afflu-
ence to share his lowly lot. They had a little farm and
a few slaves, and he began to teach a country school.
Teaching a country school and receiving six dollars
per year of twelve full months for controlling rude
boys and pleasing unreasonable parents, may be a
means of grace to a man, by making him patient, but
it is not calculated to make one’s life brighter, and so
John Andrew found it. He, however, gave himself
to prayer, met Brother Crutchfield in band, rode out
every Sunday and preached, and taught the negroes
in Sunday-school. He met in class with the society,
and his dark sky was often lit up by rays of heavenly
light; but too often it was sadly clouded. He had
trials enough at the best, and perhaps the early les-
sons he had learned among the Puritans at Midway,
and the stress laid upon feelings in the early days of
Methodism, led him to write bitter things against
himself too frequently. So when he was sick and
tired, and burdened, he groaned in the bitterness of
his soul; but he never turned from the way.

The man who, passing through the valley of Baca,
shall make it a well, or he who, passing through the
valley of the shadow of death, fears no evil, may be
happier, but he is not more blessed than he who says,
‘Though he slay me yet will I trust in him.”

John Andrew’s journal tells of more Decembers
than Mays, and it tells the story of a sensitive, poor,
heart-stricken man, smitten, as he felt, of God, and
misjudged by men, plodding on in the way of duty.
He kept a little journal in 1792, and from it I have
gathered the foregoing facts.
Fames Osgood Andrew. 23

He lived, immediately after his marriage, not far
from Washington, and continued to live in the same
neighborhood until the birth of his first son, in May
of 1794. The journal reveals the straits to which he
was even then reduced, but he was evidently at that
time possessed of a home and of a few slaves, and
was one of the leading teachers of the section. He
was constantly engaged in his ministerial work on
the Sabbath.

In the early part of 1794 Georgia included in its
boundary all that section between the Savannah River
and the Mississippi south of Tennessee. There was
only a small part of the great domain peopled at all,
and a very small part of it settled by the whites.
From the coast to the banks of the Ogeechee the white
man had full sway ; west of the river was the Indian’s
home. The settlements, as they were called, were
rather numerous in the older sections of the State,
and, as always in a new country, the people lived in
groups. Where the land was good, and the climate
healthy, there would be a number of settlers; and
where the land was poor, it would be given up for a
stock range. The houses of the people were most of
them of logs. The better class lived in double log-
cabins. There were no-saw-mills nor flour-mills, and
wheat flour was a luxury rarely enjoyed. West India
produce, as sugar and molasses were called, came into
the small town of Savannah and were carried by wag-
ons to the interior. A hogshead of tobacco, a few
cattle, and some peltry were the only products that
brought money. The woods were full of game, cattle
roamed at will over rich pastures, the land produced
freely, and in all the substantials of life the people
24 The Life and Letters of

were well to do. They had but little money, and
knew but little of luxury.

Wilkes County was one of the best of the newly
settled counties, and in it, May 3, 1794, James Os-
good Andrew was born. The house, we may be
sure, was a double-log cabin, and the surroundings
very plain, but at this time quite comfortable.

The father was just thirty-six years old, and the
mother perhaps ten years younger. Bishop Andrew
had no memory of his birthplace, nor of the next home
to which the family removed. This was in Elbert
County, a county adjoining Wilkes on the north. The
financial troubles of John Andrew, to which allusion
has been made, seem to have been so far settled that
he was enabled to embark his little property, with that
of his wife, in merchandise. It was the often-told
story in Methodist annals—failure and trouble. He
lost his property, and he, always sensitive, feeling
that he had lost his influence, and that he was cen-
sured by his brethren, withdrew from the society. He
did not cease to pray in private nor in the family, nor
did he cease to try to obey God. His exile from the
Church does not seem to have been of long duration,
for he was evidently in the society in 1813. These
disasters all ‘came while James was a little boy, per-
haps before he could remember.

His first memory was of the humble home, a father
burdened with care, and a mother toiling to help her
husband along.

He was the oldest son; there were two daughters
by the first marriages. In very early childhood he
was quite delicate, but after the bankruptcy and the
loss of all, he says he began to grow more hardy, made
Fames Osgood Andrew. 25

so by the very privations he was called upon to en-
dure.

It is very much to be regretted that we hear so
little of the boyhood of great men. The immense
value of a good boyhood cannot be estimated, and
not only the great poet who says, ‘‘ The boy is father to
the man,” but every thoughtful laborer for the good of
the race has recognized this fact. The study of boy-
hodd is not only interesting but important, and yet we
have but little of it anywhere in biography ; nor is
this book to be an exception, though I would fain
make it so, and yet it would be very incomplete if I
made no effort to give a view of Georgia boy-life
seventy-five years ago.

This is, after all, not so difficult a task. For the
‘* Georgia Scenes,” and ‘ William Mitten,” by Judge
Longstreet, and ‘‘ Georgians,” by Governor Gilmer,
and ‘‘ The Reminiscences of a Georgia -Lawyer,” by
Garnett Andrews, have given us a very fair insight
“into Georgia and Georgia homes in those early days.

The home of John Andrew was in Elbert County,
on Gedar Creek. Elbert County was then one of, the
most populous and fertile in the State. It was what
is known in Georgia as an oak-and-hickory county ;
broken into hills, fertile and beautiful, with small
valleys on all the creeks and brooks and on the small
rivers coursing through it. Healthy, fertile, and ac-
cessible to the older States, it was soon settled by
enterprising Virginia and North Carolina people.

Here Beverly Allen began his ministry, and here he
lived to the day of his disgrace ; and from this county
he fled to Kentucky after he had killed Forsyth, the
United States Marshal.

2
26 The Life and Letters of

John Andrew seems to have moved to Cedar Creek
to merchandise, and James was sent to another teacher.
He says: ‘‘One morning my mother fixed me in a
style a little better than usual, and my father took me
up and carried me to an ancient house which stood
on the edge of an old field, and handed me over toa
rough-looking man whose face was covered with pock-
pits, and, after a few moments, left me with this un-
lovely old man and a swarm of youngsters of various
ages. This was the beginning of my school-boy life,
I being at that time about five years old.”

The old field school, of which we have a glimpse,
was an institution in old Georgia. Why was it in or
near an old field? We know not, but such was the case.
The teacher was generally some broken-down adven-
turer, often an Irishman, who went through the se¢¢/e-
ment and had the children subscribed. Fifty cents a
month was the tuition fee; reading, writing, and
arithmetic the branches of study; from seven o’clock,
A.M. to six o’clock P.M. the hours of school work, and
twelve months the length of the session. The disci-
pline of the school was very simple and very regid.
The hickory was in demand on every occasion—idle-
ness, dullness, inattention, as well as rebellion, were
all punished promptly and severely. The larger the
scholar the more the glory when it became needful to
chastise him, and when it was done; now and then the
teacher was barred out, and the fight was a very sharp
one between him and his rebellious school. The
school generally triumphed. The boys and girls went
to the same school, and trooped along together over
the same highway. Early in the morning, before day-
light, every one in the country home was roused.
Fames Osgood Andrew. 27

Breakfast was by candle-light ; the little tin bucket
was packed with corn-bread and middling meat for
the mid-day meal, and then the little ones tripped on
their way to school. Dillworth’s Speller, the Federal
Calculator, the New York Reader, and now and then
the Columbian Orator were the text-books. It was
an academy when Morse’s Geography and Murray’s
Grammar were a part of the course. The little fellows
were all dressed in homespun—copperas-dyed cottons
in summer, and walnut-dyed woolens in winter. Of
shoes, neither boys nor girls had any, except for win-
ter, and now and then for Sunday use. The little
ones were full of health and heartiness; they never knew
what it was to go to bed hungry or to shiver with
cold, for there was food enough and wood enough for
all. Théy knew nothing of base-ball or cricket, but cat
and sock it, and bull-pen, and town-ball, and base,
and chase the hare, and wrestling ; indeed, every sport
to tax the muscles and develop them they enjoyed.
To such a school as this, over eighty years ago, came
little James Andrew. A homely young fellow he was,
with a hazel eye, a curly head, and a great mole on his
chin. He was his mother’s first son, was her pet, and
he must have felt, as he said he did, very lonesome
when his father gave him to the pock-marked teacher
and left him there for the day.

This is all he says of his school-life. The most of
his education he received from his father. He says
as his father was a teacher it might naturally be sup-
posed that he had had good educational advantages ;
but this was not the case. He was the oldest son, and
as mill-boy and boy-of-all-work, he had but little time
to go to school.
28 The Life and Letters of

His journal, which he began while he was in Wwil-
mington, and his letters written from his first circuit,
show that he spelt well, used good grammar, and ex-
pressed himself with felicity. He was very fond of
reading, and the little library was well supplied with
books for those times—books of a high order, not ex~
cluding books of fiction. His mother was a great
reader, and he acquired his taste for books from her.
I doubt whether he was fond of study as study. He
complains of himself, in after years, as lacking the
quality of close application, and he never became an
accurate scholar.

The atmosphere of the humble home was eminently
refining. Polly Cosby was a lady born and bred, and
the best Puritan blood was in the veins of John An-
drew—cavalier and Puritan united here. Though
they were poor they were not mean, and James An-
drew was brought up as high-toned a gentleman as
Georgia had init. The home was evidently a Chris-
tian home. The dear mother had given her young
life to religion, and had with a great courage met all
opposition and conquered it, and the faithful father
had, amid all the storms, steered his course heaven-
ward ; but no hand but that of the grateful son should
be permitted to draw the portraits of the father and
mother. He says: ‘‘ My father was apparently a stern
man, and there were hours when he did not choose to
converse, but at other times he was exceedingly com-
municative and pleasant. His countenance always af-
forded me asure index of his frame of mind, and read-
ily satisfied me as to whether I might approach him;
and I was never slow to avail myself of the privileges
which those hours afforded, for he was always at such
Fames Osgood Andrew. 29

times an instructive and delightful companion. To
these delightful hours of intercourse I owe much, very
much of whatever little improvement I may have sub-
sequently made. In his discipline he was decided and
inflexible. His laws were few and appropriate, but
they were uniformly enforced. If I did wrong, vio-
lating any of those rules, he sometimes punished me
by refusing to talk with me, and showing me always a
look of displeasure. This was a painful and mortify-
ing state of things, but he sometimes appealed to my
feelings in a manner rather more direct. When he
said to me, ‘I'll remember you for this offence,’ I only
wished that he would apply the rod at once, instead
of keeping me in suspense ; for I well knew that, how-
ever long delayed, the punishment was certain. That
was one of the promises he never failed to keep.

‘‘My father was a very religious man. Family
worship was never neglected by him, and about once
a week, at the hour for family worship, he gave his
children a short but appropriate and solemn appeal on
the subject of their religious interests. I remember
well how these seasons used to impress me. In addi-
tion to this, he used often to take me with him at
eventide to his place of secret prayer in the woods,
and, leaving mesome twenty yards behind him, kneel
and wrestle earnestly with God. I often heard his
groanings, and knew that much of that agony was on
my account. Ah! I shall never forget those evening
prayer scenes.

‘At length, after having battled with the storms of
life till past his threescore and ten, the Master said,
‘It is enough; the warfare is ended ; enter into rest.’
His affliction continued for some time, and through
30 The Life and Letters of

it all he continued patient and resigned, calmly and
triumphantly resting on the God of his salvation. At
his request I administered the holy sacrament to my
dying father; and surely it was a season never to be
forgotten. God’s presence cheered us.

‘‘On the morning of the day on which he died, he
called my weeping mother and said to her:

‘“* Don’t be troubled about yourself and the chil-
dren. God will provide for you ; he has this morning
promised me that he would.’

“ After this, having affectionately and solemnly
charged us all to live so as to meet him above, he gently
fell asleep in Jesus ; and when we bore him to the neigh-
boring churchyard and laid him in the quiet grave, I
felt the words, ‘ There the weary are at rest,’ applied
to my mind very impressively. He had closed a tem-
pestuous voyage, had reached the long-desired haven, -
and was at rest—sweet, hallowed, eternal. There I
hope at last to unite with him and many other de-
parted precious ones.

“My mother, whose maiden name was Cosby, was
a native of Spottsylvania County, Virginia; but
whether she belonged to the first, or second, or third
families, I do not know. But this I do know—she was
lovely and good enough to have belonged to the first
and highest of them all. While she was yet young
her father removed to Georgia, and settled in that
part of Wilkes which is now called Elbert County.
Here my mother grew to womanhood, and here she
became decidedly religious and attached herself to the
Methodist Church—a step which at that time required
considerable nerve, as Methodism was imperfectly un-
derstood and greatly persecuted. Her parents were
Fames Osgood Andrew. 31

Episcopalians, and were, of course, sternly opposed
to her; yet, in the midst of all these hinderances, she
boldly decided to follow her conscientious convictions
and unite her fortunes with those of the people of her
choice, which she did, and was probably among the
earliest converts to Methodism in the State of Georgia.
Her course subsequently was straightforward and con-
sistent ; a gentle, quiet spirit, never bold or confident
in the expression of her religious feelings, yet uniformly
religious, loving God and his Church, saying no harm
of anybody, and doing all the good she could. My
mother was no shouter, and I think that at the time
of my earliest recollections she was not very fond of
shouting, though everything with her depended upon
the character of the shouters. But she loved the
house of God, and in the class-meetings and other
means of grace she greatly delighted.

“My father’s misfortunes involved her in much
trouble, bringing her into circumstances to which she
was not accustomed. Poverty was upon her house-
hold, and she felt it was her duty to contribute, as far
as possible, to the support and training of her children,
not only by carefully husbanding the limited means
placed at her disposal, but by contributing her own
exertions to increase the store. She was a very in-
dustrious woman, and could ply her knitting-needles
beyond almost any one I ever knew ; and many a bushel
of corn and many a piece of meat was contributed by
her skill in this department to the sustenance of her
household. This was certainly much better than to
insinuate that her husband’s bad management had
brought the family into trouble.

“‘T had as well say just here that my mother was a
32 The Life and Letters of

very great reader. I have seen her sit for hours ab-
sorbed in some interesting volume, while her fingers
were rapidly doing their work with her knitting-
needles. In the management of her children, she was
kind and gentle, but firm and judicious, leading us by
her kindness, but knowing well how to use the rod
when it became necessary. I was the only son till I
was grown, and of course I was in some danger of
being a spoiled boy ; and possibly, if my parents had
continued in a state of prosperity, I might have been
so, for I learned from my mother that I used to be
very delicate. She was afraid of the rain and of the
sunshine, and dreaded to have me endure the slight-
est exposure, lest it might give me a cold or a fever,
and I was likely to grow up a poor, puny sprout; but
it pleased God to send us poverty, and straightway
the pale and puny boy had to go to the mill, often in the
rain, and frequently in the cold, wintry days, without
shoes. He had to become a boy ofall work, which
necessitated a good deal of exposure every day, and,
as a consequence, he became tough, and healthy, and
self-reliant.’ To this I am largely indebted for a good
constitution, which has sustained a good many years
of the wear and tear of itinerant life.

“My mother took great pains to guide my young
mind and heart in the ways of knowledge and peace.
She taught my heart and my lips to pray before I can
remember ; so that I do not recollect a single day
of my life in which I did not pray. She had read
much, and was quite an intelligent woman, so that
she was well qualified to guide my infant thoughts
into the incipient paths of knowledge. She -was pas-
sionately fond of poetry, and used often to convey to
Fames Osgood Andrew. 33

my mind many of those valuable maxims which have
been largely influential in the formation of my char-
acter. I can now look back with lively interest to
those precious moments when, with her boy standing
beside her, she directed his childish heart to the char-
acter and religion of the blessed Saviour. And I re-
member how she used to lay her hands upon my head,
and bless me. O! how often did she thus renew her
dedication of me to God, and pray that he would
make me a minister! and how she looked when, on
one occasion, she said, ‘I would rather see you a
faithful preacher of the gospel than emperor of the
world!’

‘When I returned annually to visit my parents, we
used to have quite a household jubilee; and my
mother’s kind heart devised all sorts of good things
for her dear James, while my father smoked his pipe
and blessed me, and my sisters were so happy be-
cause brother had come home. And when the time
came for me to leave, O, how many blessings and
prayers followed me to my next work! My precious
mother’s parting salute, as she threw her arms around
my neck and kissed me, was, ‘ And now, my son, re-
member that I live if you stand fast in the Lord, and
continue faithful inthe work of your Master.’

“‘ As old age approached, she became more cheer-
ful and happy, her confidence in God growing stronger
as she neared the close of her journey. It was a
prominent trait in her character that she thought
kindly of everybody ; hence, she never indulged in
evil-speaking, and used gently to rebuke those who
did so in her presence. She always put the best con-

struction on the behavior of others, and where their
2*
34 The Life and Letters of

conduct could not be justified, she yet hoped for the

best, and was sure to bring in some mitigating cir-
cumstances. She was a charming specimen of a
cheerful and happy old age, not growing sour with
increasing years, but happier and more cheerful. The
young people all loved and sought her company, and
she delighted in having them about her, and in minis-
tering to their enjoyment.

‘But at length the weary wheels of life stood still.
She was attacked with a painful disease to which she
had been some time subject. I was just closing a
Conference at Athens, Georgia,’ when, hearing that
she was ill, Ihastened home in time to watch her clos-
ing hours, and receive her dying blessing. It was a
sad thought that I could no longer look on my
mother’s venerable form, nor hear that voice which
had been wont to instruct me and bless me so often.
Still, it was matter of devout thanksgiving to God that
she had been spared to us so many years, that my

~children might know and love her, and that she might
give them her dying blessing. I felt, too, that it was
cause of gratitude to God that she. had been so gra-
ciously sustained throughout her long and checkered
pilgrimage, and that the grace of God was. richly
vouchsafed to her in her closing hours, so that she not
only lived well, but died in the Lord. Thanks be to
God for his unspeakable gift. My parents were not
among the titled and the rich, but I glory in having
descended from parents who loved, ‘trusted, and
served God, and whose faith finally triumphed over
death, and showed them the way to the throne of

 

1In January, 1846.
*
Fames Osgood Andrew. 35

God. There they rest, and there I hope to meet
them.”

So far the sketch of these excellent people, drawn
by the loving hand of a dutiful son. Their humble
home was the home of the preachers. The memory
of the boy could not go behind the time that these
good men were not at home in his father’s cabin.
When he was fifteen, just after he was converted,
there came to his father’s house the young Elder;
Lovick Pierce was his name, and He was the young-
est Presiding Elder Methodism had init. He lived
for years after Bishop Andrew died, and in his mem-
orial sermon he says of the family :

“«T made the acquaintance of Bishop Andrew’s fam-
ily in 1809, in Elbert County, being Presiding Elder on
the old Oconee District. The family was poor, but
famous for the virtues of pure practical godliness. His
father, the Rev. John Andrew, was a regular educator,
teaching only an English school of a very respectable
grade. Here James Osgood, I think, received all his
early literary outfit for a long and useful career as an
itinerant Methodist preacher and Bishop. Although
his education was far below what it ought to have
been, as preparatory to the future successful studies
of a young preacher, it was quite above the level from
which most of us commenced our course. He after-
* ward added a great deal to the sum of his' knowledge
by those irregular studies for which we of that day
were very remarkable; for while in the way of any
systematic course of study, we had none, yet, in our
way, we were even more studious than the present
generation of preachers. I will not say how far he
pushed out his mind into the regions beyond the com-
36 The Life and Letters of

mon range of itinerant preachers in his day. He did
acquire some learning beyond what he ever professed.

‘Bishop Andrew’s mother was one of nature’s noble-
women—ennobled by the charms of a pure, rational,
fervent piety—a woman of fine, practical, common
sense, a mother whose speech was always with grace,
seasoned with salt, that ministered grace to the hearer.
Her maternal, domestic piety issued from her sancti-
fied life like fragrance from’a rose, until all that could
inhale or absorb its nature became imbued with it.
The beautiful imprint of all that was lovely in the
moral and intellectual character of the mother was
made upon her son. One familiar with Paul’s allusion
to the grandmother and mother of Timothy, will see
that in this case the same medium of conveying the
faith of grandmothers and mothers to the Timothys
of this generation remains open, and furnishes to the
Church their moral and spiritual duplicates in copies
of genuine stamp.”

Such were the people from whom he sprung. Al-
though John Andrew was in these early days not in
society, his family does not seem to have severed its
connection with it, and James went regularly to the
monthly appointment of the circuit rider, and to the
Sunday appointment of the local preacher. He re-
mained, no doubt, often at class, and, being possessed of
a deep religious nature, he was never far from the King-
dom of God. He never remembered the day when
he did not pray, nor did the native evil of the human
heart ever rule him with fullsway. He was a gushing,
joyous, fun-loving boy. He hunted and fished with
a Southern boy’s ardor, but was always religious in
his feelings. He says in his journal, begun when
Fames Osgood Andrew. 37

he was in Wilmington, of his parents and their train-
ing: ‘‘ They were both pious and feared the Lord,
and taught their children also to believe they were
fallen creatures, and must be born again if they
would see the Kingdom of God; nor were these les-
sons lost upon me, and I trust I shall never forget
them. “I recollect that my earliest reflections were of
an eternal nature. I used to pray when quite a child,
and was constantly followed with an awful sense of
my fallen condition, and the necessity of a change of
heart. I think it was in the latter part of the year 1809
that I attended a camp-meeting and was powerfully
awakened, and before the camp-meeting broke up, I
professed to have found peace, though I have fre-
quently doubted it since. I returned home, and
shortly after joined society at a meeting-house, now
called Asbury Chapel, in Broad River Circuit. I
have remained in society ever since, though I have
more than once back-slidden in heart, yet I never was
so far gone as to be willing to leave the service of
God.”

He was a little over fifteen years old when he made
an open profession of religion and ‘‘ joined society,” as
he writes it. The circuit was Broad River.

In those days the charges were generally four or
five weeks’ circuits with twenty-eight appointments.
The only rest day was Monday, and the preacher rested
where Monday found him.

The first Methodist preacher whom James Andrew
probably remembered was Hope Hull. Mr. Hull had
married a kinswoman of his mother and had been a
true yoke-fellow of his father. Once Hull wrote to
John Andrew that he: had such views of heaven, that
38 The Life and Letters of

if he had some good friend to help him, he could
shout a mile high. Hull took little James when a babe
in his arms, baptized him, and, tradition says, prayed
that he might grow up a good boy, be happily con-
verted, become a Methodist preacher, and die a
Methodist Bishop. Then, while he was a little boy,
came Stith Mead, with his persuasive eloquehce and
melodious voice, to conduct one of the most wonder-
ful revivals of religion ever known in Georgia; and
then came Epps Tucker, with commanding presence
and attractive manner, and now James Russell, the
peerless, whose earnestness, fluency, homely illustra-
tion, magnetic powers, deep unction, and the God-
given success which attended his toils made the won-
der of the times. James must have had a vivid mem-
ory of that great revival, when James Russell, at-
tended by his local preacher, went through the coun-
try, holding great meetings, in which hundreds were
converted. There were some of the preachers whom
he heard in his boyhood, but there was none who
made such an impression upon him as was made by
Lorenzo Dow. Lorenzo had passed through Elbert
and left an appointment. It was for eight o’clock
at night, perhaps eighteen months ahead. The day
came and the people gathered together, and just at
the time appointed, a negro with a pine torch came
stalking through the woods, with Lorenzo behind
him.

He went into the pulpit, and preached, as usual,
against Calvinism. The All-part people, as he called
them, had their full share of attention, and, suddenly
turning to a Baptist preacher, who had no thought
that he was known, and, pointing his long, keen finger
Fames Osgood Andrew. 39

at him, Lorenzo screamed out: ‘‘ Now, don’t you ever
preach that doctrine again.”

Then came the young Presiding Elder, Lovick
Pierce, whose youth and whose gifts were in such
strange contrast. He was.the Elder after Ivy, Mead,
and Randle, old and experienced, and did his work
as well as they; and then came almost every year
the wonderful Asbury. As certain as the time, either
in his chaise or mounted on his old gray, the vener-
able, beloved old bishop would come to Elbert and
Wilkes. Hope Hull, and Thomas Grant, and David
Merriwether would be on hand to meet him, and he
would move through the country to the conferences
which were soon to meet.

In those days the camp-meeiings were great oc-
casions. They were really camp-meetings. The peo-
ple came miles and miles. They came prepared to
camp out; they were used to it when there were no
railways, and everything which was sold was wagoned
to Augusta. Then such preaching and such singing.
There the songs were not always good rhyme or rea-
son, though they were not inferior to some that we
have in our city Sunday-schools even now; but their
lack of poetic merit was atoned for by the heartiness
with which they were sung.

It might have been at one of these camp-meetings
—probably it was—that one afternoon Jimmy Russell
preached, and when all the multitude were enthused,
he leaped over the low book board, and cried, ‘‘ all who
want religion, follow me,” and to the woods went the
great procession. These were stirring times. Many
were converted, and many, very many, remained so.

The descendants of those converted in the great re-
40 The Life and Letters of

vivals and camp-meetings of those years are numbered
by the thousand and fill our churches. Such were the
preachers and such were the times of James Andrew’s
youth. :

He had felt from his earliest childhood that he must
preach. God not rarely sets apart a man from his
mother’s womb for this work and impresses it upon him.
After his conversion the conviction grew; but then he
was so young, so timid, so awkward, so unlearned.
Then, too, he was the oldest son, Harbert was a baby,
the little girls could not go to the mill or plow the
corn, and help his father get the wood ; how could he
go away from home? But, oh’ the call, the call! In
those days the sense of God’s favor was a real sensa-
tion, and when darkness came it was a sad day for the
Methodist. The struggle went on, and John Andrew
saw it. He knew the cause; he knew why his boy de-
bated and he bade him go, and so said the gentle Mary.
Once another Mary took an alabaster box of precious
ointment and anointed the head of the Master, and
now this Mary took what to her was more precious
than many boxes of ointment, her oldest born, and
gave him to the Master. She, too, did what she could.

He must be licensed and recommended. The class
and the society where he held his membership were
ready enough to endorse him, but what would the
quarterly conference do? There were twenty-eight
societies in it, and perhaps fifty class leaders, twenty
local preachers, and nine stewards. It wasa great
conference in those times. The boy came up for
license. Did he have gifts? Did he have grace?
Did he have fruit? He was, perhaps, not prepossess-
ing in look; John Andrew, his father, was not in the
Fames Osgood Andrew. 41

best favor with some in the conference, and then he
was so young. He could not preach, said some, and
he never would be able, said others.

Epps Tucker, however, had great influence, and he
spoke for him. No breath had ever blown upon his
good name, and then, perhaps, the young Elder spoke
a word for him; and so James Andrew was licensed
and recommended to the conference of 1812.

The Presiding Elder put him up to preach ; Moses
Andrew gave him a text. How well he succeeded is
evidenced by the word of John Marks, one of his
father’s life-long friends: ‘‘ Jeems,” he said, ‘‘ I voted
for you to be a preacher, but if I had heered that ser-
mon I wouldn’t have done it.”” But he was licensed,
and he sent by Lovick Pierce his name to the confer-
ence in Charleston for admission, and in 1812 he was

- admitted on trial. He was in his nineteenth year.
42 The Life and Letters of

CHAPTER II.
THREE YEARS ON CIRCUITS.

1812-1815.

The Conference of 1812.—The Timely Gift.—The Appointment Received.
—The Salt Ketcher Circuit.—William Kennedy.—His First Letter
Home.—His Father’s Letters to Him.—Thomas Darley.—Anecdote
from Bishop McTyiere.—Home Again.—Bladen Circuit in 1814.—The
Journey.—The Scotch Highlanders.—Hard Times.—Success in the
Word.—The Conference of 1814 —Milledgeville.—Asbury and Mc-
Kendree.—The Warren Circuit.—Incidents.—Letters.

HE Conference met in Charleston, December 19,
1812. Bishop Asbury was present, and Mc-
Kendree came with him on his first visit to South
Carolina. Nineteen were admitted on trial. Hen-
derson Ray heads the list—a wiry, little man, with
immense will and endurance, who did the hard work
assigned faithfully, and died many years after this in
the work. Samuel K. Hodges was another who died
in the harness. Clear-headed, enterprising, energetic,
he was long a leader in the Georgia and South Caro-
lina Conferences. None of the remainder of this large
class continued very long in the traveling connection.
Young Andrew was not at the conference when he
was admitted on trial, and was somewhat surprised
that they received him.
The South Carolina Conference extended from the
“Indian Nation on the west, then in the centre of

*
Fames Osgood Andrew. 43

Georgia, to the Atlantic Ocean on the east, and from
Fayetteville, in North Carolina, to Saint Mary’s, in
Georgia. It gave appointments to twenty-eight
preachers in South Carolina, fourteen in North Caro-
lina, and twenty-eight in Georgia.

Lovick Pierce was the Presiding Elder of the
Oconee District, and although his district had in it but
three circuits, those circuits embraced all of Georgia
above Milledgeville. Joseph Tarpley, a Virginian,
large, commanding, eloquent; Lewis Myers, a Ger-
man, stout, hard-headed, decided, were Presiding El-
ders of the other two Georgia districts.

There were about twenty-three thousand members
where there are now about two hundred and fifty thou-
sand white Methodists alone, and as many colored.

The circuits were large, and had on them generally
two preachers, who required four weeks to get round.
They were not bounded by county lines, and were
generally called after some main river or creek which
flowed through them.

_In the lower part of South Carolina, rising in Barn-
well and running through Colleton and Beaufort Dis-
tricts was the Salt Catcher River. The large circuit
in this section of the State was called the Salt Catcher,
and to it James O. Andrew was sent, with James C.
Sharp as a senior preacher,

In the latter years of Bishop Andrew’s life, when
he was nearly sixty years old, and had been in the
ministry over forty years, he wrote a series of articles,
“The Reminiscences of an Itinerant.” They give us
a clear view of many scenes which would otherwise be
entirely hidden from us, and while I shall not publish
them in their entirety, I shall draw copiously from
44 The Life and Letters of

them. The first gives an account of the Salt Kecher
Circuit and his years upon it :

‘‘T was sitting, yesterday evening, about nightfall,
on my piazza, when a very simple incident led me to
a review of the past, and while indulging in this re-
trospect, memory. was busy and brought up before
me many of the prominent events of my life for more
than fifty years, carrying me back to the days of my
boyhood, and from that as a starting-point, leading
onward through the days of youth and early man-
hood, and through a ministerial life of nearly forty
years. There was a sort of melancholy pleasure in
the train of thought into which I was led. My early
doubts and conflicts came up before my vision; my
youthful failures and blunders, all rose before me,
and the retrospect was humiliating enough. How
sad at heart when I thought of it all, and how pain-
fully the question came to me, how much wiser and
better, and how much more useful might I have been
had I been more studious, more holy, more prayerful,
and more industrious. .

“T have been for about forty years a minister of
Jesus Christ. There ought to have been abundance
of fruit; many hundred precious souls ought to have
been converted to God through my instrumentality ;
but how stands the account? I trust I have not been
altogether useless. I hope some are already lodged
in Abraham’s bosom who have been the seals of my
humble ministry ; and others, perhaps, are journeying
heavenward who may be stars in my cfown of re-
joicing. But, alas! how few compared with the thou-
sands who have from time to time heard the word of
God at mylips. Oh, that I had lived better, preached
SFames Osgood Andrew. 45

more, and preached under a deeper baptism of the
Holy Ghost! I almost involuntarily cry, Oh, that
I could live over again the days that are past, that I
might give more thorough and abundant evidence of
my ardent and undying love for Him who redeemed
me; but then the question arises,-even if this wish
were granted, would I live and preach any better than
Ihave done? It is at least doubtful. My life would
probably be as it has been, neither better nor more
useful than the past. But there is a more profitable
way than the indulgence of impracticable wishes. I
may turn the failures of the past to good account for
the future. I know not how. long that future may be,
but doubtless He who holds the issues of life and
death in His hands, will continue me in the field of
life and action just as long as He sees will be best ;
then let me throw myself on the mercy of God for
the past, and, invoking that aid which was never
piously invoked in vain, address myself to the task of
living and preaching better for the time that yet re-
mains. God help me to doso. Amen! Amen!

“‘T entered the itinerancy of the Methodist Epis-
copal Church at a Conference held in the city of
Charleston in December, 1812. I was not present,
for it was not then esteemed orthodox for applicants
for admission on trial, or even those who had trav-
eled one year, to attend the conferences.

‘The old fathers diligently inculcated on the minds
of the young preachers that they had no business at
Conference .till they were needed for examination be-
fore that body. My appointment was Salt Ketcher
Circuit for 1813. I shall never forget my feelings
when I heard the name of my field of labor. There
46 The Life and Letters of

was something sad in the very name ; and then where
was it? To a raw backwoods boy like myself, it
sounded ominously, for I had never been a hundred
miles from home. I had, indeed, once accompanied
a neighbor with his wagon to Augusta, which was the
great market for our produce, and distant some seven-
ty-five miles. This was quite an important event in
my history, and stamped me, in my own estimation, as
a considerable traveler. But then this said Salt
Ketcher, as I ascertained, was in South Carolina, and
might be found somewhere between Augusta and
Charleston. The hour of parting was a sad one; yet
it was not unmingled with pleasure. There was no
opposition from parents. They had given me to God
from my: birth, and now, when they pressed me fondly
to their bosoms, and gave me the parting adieu, it was
accompanied with an impressive charge to be faithful
to my work and the God who had called me to it. I
left with their blessing and their prayers. Even now,
.after the lapse of forty years, the scene is vividly be-
fore me, as though it were yesterday. There stood
my aged father and my precious mother at the door
of their cabin in Elbert County, Georgia, and gave me
their blessing, and I mounted my little black pacer (a
present from a kind friend who had long known my
father and his circumstances), whom I called Cicero,
by way of signifying my appreciation of classic oratory,
and who afterward bore me over many a weary mile.
“T was now fairly launched upon life’s ocean, and had
only God and myself to rely on. It was a day of sad-
ness, for I had just left the home of my childhood
and those who loved me best and were best beloved ;
and I was going forth to grapple with life’s stern real-
Fames Osgood Andrew. 47

ities, and that, too, among strangers. I was now in
my nineteenth year, and about as timid a lad as ever
left a father’s house for a circuit. I need not dwell on
the loneliness of my heart during my first day’s ride.
I lodged the first night at the house of a friend in
Wilkes County, where I felt quite at home, for I had
relatives in the family ; and when I left, next morning,
I felt as if the last link. was severed, so that the séc-.
ond day’s ride was more lonely than the first. I was
in a strange region, and knew not where I could find
a night’s lodging ; for although there might be no lack
of houses, yet, gentle reader, there was another diffi-
culty in my case besides excessive timidity—of gold I
had none (don’t recollect whether up to that time I
had ever seen any), and of bank bills or silver, pre-
cious little. The evening was drawing on and my dis-
quiet increasing, when a man rode up, and, as he was
going my way, we jogged along very sociably. He
was a genteelly dressed and rather intelligent colored
man, and as he soon ascertained who I was, he very
kindly pressed me to stop and, lodge at his house,
which was directly on the road. Never was an invi-
tation more welcome. I found his wife genteel in her
manners, her house in neat order. They both gave
me a cordial welcome, and I passed an exceedingly
pleasant night, and my kind host and his wife sent me,
early next day, on my journey with their best wishes.

I shall never forget that night nor the kindness of
those people. I know not what has become of them,
but I earnestly hope God’s blessing has been. with
them. I have often, in later years, in passing through
Columbia County, tried to identify this house, but in
vain.
48 The Life and Letters of

“The next afternoon I passed through Augusta, and,
crossing the sand-bar ferry, first touched the soil of
South Carolina. Having gained the highlands, I be-
gan to think it was time to look out for another night’s
lodging ; and as I did not know how near I might be
to the territory of the veritable Salt Ketcher Circuit
itself, I inquired of the first man I met if he knew
where any Methodist lived. He said, ‘ Yes ;’ there was
a settlement of them about Black Swamp. ‘And how
far, sir, is that hence?’ ‘ About sixty miles.’ Here
was adamper. However, deciding at once that this
was rather long for an evening’s ride, I determined to
begin asking for quarters, and continued till I suc-
ceeded. After riding a mile or_two, I saw a pretty
good-looking house off some distance from the road.
I rode up and asked for lodgings. The good lady sent
me word that her husband had gone to the races, but
I might stay. I was kindly entertained, though I did
not see the face of my hostess. The next day I rode
to Tinker’s Creek. ,

“The next day a ride of some thirty miles over an
exceedingly lonely pjne country, brought me to the
house of the Rev. B. Tarrant, a local preacher, who
lived not far (as 1 judged) from what has in late years
been known as Binnaker’s Camp-ground, and near to
what was then called Pine Grove Church. “In this
kind family I found a cordial welcome, and afterward
found it a pleasant home.

“The circuit was arranged for five weeks, and em-
braced what is now included in the Walterborough
Circuit and a portion of the Black Swamp and Barn-
well Circuits, and, possibly, a portion of some of the
colored missions.”
Fames Osgood Andrew. 49

He had tried to preach a few times, but had little
idea of sermon-making. There are not many things
more puzzling than for one of his literary training to
try and find a way to tell what he knows. He had
read a good deal in general literature ; some of the old
fictions—“ Plutarch’s Lives,” “ Cicero’s Orations,” and
the old classics, besides his Methodist books—and his
education, if not advanced, was good as far as it went,
and far beyond that of most of the people; but here he
was,. not quite nineteen years ‘old, with his Bible and
hymn-book and discipline, and expected to preach
every day. Happily for him he could try one text
twenty-eight times, and he could lead a class and tell
an experience, if he could not preach asermon. It
will be asad day when Methodist preachers can preach
a sermon, but have no experience to tell.

William M. Kennedy was his Elder. He knew the
father and loved the boy, and good, clear-headed
Thomas Darley was living on the circuit, and they
were ready to help him, and while his success was not
brilliant, he went on. His good father cheered him
with a letter now and then from home. Here are two:

From JOHN ANDREW.

“My BELOVED SON:

“« Since I wrote the one you will hereafter receive
from Augusta, I received your thrice-welcome letter.
I say thrice for three reasons—I rejoice at it, first, to
hear from you and find you are well; secondly be-
cause it appears to give satisfaction to your friends
here (for it has gone the rounds of your friends) and

last of all because it tells that you are engaged in that
3
50 The Life and Letters of

most important work, and have received the gracious
work of GOD in your soul! Oh, my dear boy, your
faithfulness proves my life, my joy.

“Your conflicts, I expect, are many, but they are mo-
mentary, and victory is sure if you apply for help and
remember you can only conquer through grace. I
think the life of an Itinerant Preacher the nearest
Heaven of any man on earth. Where he is faithful, di-
vested of every worldly care, secluded from the noise
and bustle of the world, and shut up in God, his.con-
templations are delightful, his engagements in duty
pleasant, his life exemplary, and his end glorious.

“T am truly glad you have seen your colleague,
and more so that you are pleased withhim. Strive, my
son, to deserve his affection, and if you are united you
may improve by his piety and instruction, and nothing
will be able to stand against your united zeal; even
the tall sons of Anak must give way, and GOD will give
you good and great times. Need I say I pray for you
and him and your circuit. My manner is to remember
you every night in family prayer, and to meet you
every evening in private.

*«T received your letter on Saturday at meeting, and
showed it to your Father Marks. He rejoiced to hear
from you, and desires me to remember him to you,
and to tell you to write him often, for he cannot write.
Brother Gray promised me to write you from Augusta.
I wrote by him to the care of Brother Lucius; I ex-
pect this will be the best way for me to write to you.
I don’t like to put you to so much expense by mail.

“‘T will now give you the news of the place. Your
friend John Webb lies very ill, James Gray is yet
single. I expect to teach this year at the old school-
Fames Osgood Andrew. 51

house. Brother Robbins’ money I expect to get set-
tled, but should I fail I will write to you and you must
try and lay it up. Brother Brewer is very low; he
can’t live long, I think. The society here are still dull.
GOD grant a revival. When you write again say
something to Nelson and Eady, they desire to be re-
membered to you. According to your request we
have often kissed dear little Harbert, and now ask
him what brother said, and his reply is K7zss me.
Lucy, Betsy, Caroline, Patsy, and little Judy, say
love to Brother. I must now give you a few direc-
tions, my son. Write more and with greater industry
to improve. Take pains’ in folding and directing.
Suppose you keep a journal, it would give me pleas-
ure to peruse it. Write smaller.

“‘ Once more and I have done for this time: my sin-
cere wish is to hear of your prosperity. Indeed, I
long to see you, but I know it cannot now be. True, I
am poor, my son, in the world,. but yet I am rich while
God is mine and I am his, and in having a son in the
Vineyard of GOD. I feel my heart more in the work
of God than I have for many years. Your mother is
poorly, but I hope she is mending. Farewell, my son;
may GOD bless you and keep you. Your mother
joins me in love to you, and may Heaven keep you.

“Your affectionate Father,

‘JOHN ANDREW.
‘February 16, 1813,’?

From JOHN ANDREW.
‘“CELBERT, July 3, 1813.
‘““My DEAR JAMES:
‘I fear my writing so often may occasion too much

expense, but several occurrences since our last, together
52 The Life and Letters of

with our constant wishes to give you every caution
we think necessary, urge me to write this. I received
yours by Brother Myers, but I have written you since
the one you mention the receipt of.

“¢ We are anxious to hear from you, for in your last
you say nothing of your health, and Brother Myers
gave us as little satisfaction. But my sure trust is in
GOD that he will preserve you safe. Oh, my son, we
live if you stand fast. While I write George and Ma-
tilda arecome. We have had good times here lately.
Merriwether Marks’s (?) wife, Patsy Moore, and The-
resa(?) Posey have all been converted and joined so-
ciety. My Lucy has joined, and I hope she is in
earnest. At our quarterly meeting we had great times.
Many of the young people were brought to weep—
Lanier, Simeon Rogers, Oliver, and others. Glory to
God, forever andever. Doctor Brewer is very near his
last hour. Your friends have all seen your letters, and
they wish for your success. Samuel Leseur is not
turned out; I wish he may do better. Your father
Marks told me to say, he thanked you for your letter
and intended to write you. James, have you wrote to
Patsy Harvey [his aunt]? She has been long confined
ina melancholy manner. I have mentioned all that
is new.

“« My son, if you get sick stay not below. Come home
till you recover; and now, my dear boy, may heaven
bless you and direct you. Write me as soon as you
get this. Tell me from your sister and family. Your
mother, Matilda, George, and all the family join me
in love to you. Farewell.

‘‘ Your affectionate Father,
“JOHN ANDREW.”
Fames Osgood Andrew. 53

The son writes home. Here is his letter—the
handwriting is that of a school-boy, not at all like his
rugged but strong hand of after years—just as he
wrote it: :

‘© My DEAR PARENTS:

“Tam yet alive, through the abundant mercy of God,
and trying, in my feeble manner, to love God and
preach to dying sinners with too little success. I cal-
culate that you are by this time beginning to grow
uneasy at not hearing from me for such a length of
time, but various circumstances have made it im-
possible for me to visit the post-office, and have pre-
vented my writing sooner. I also know the expense
of postage must be a considerable inconvenience to
you. I feel as much bound to serve the Lord as
ever, but oh! it seems to me that of all I am of
God’s servants the most unprofitable. I am, I think,
unfaithful, in some degree, in almost everything I un-
dertake. I possess too little of the mind that was in
Jesus Christ my Lord. I love God too little; I feel
too little for the welfare of Zion’s cause. In fact it
appears to me that I am lacking in every Christian
grace. I want faith, I want love, I want humility.
Oh, pray for me that I may obtain all these things.
Times in the circuit are not very encouraging,
though we have some good times.

“* Political affairs interfere much with religion. I
rejoice to hear of the prosperity of Zion in my dear
old society. I often pray for them and long to see
them and you. I calculate, the Lord willing, to be
at home about Christmas. Our last Q. M. will be
held the 13th and 14th of next month. The country
54 The Life and Letters of

has been very sickly, but God has been my protector.
I heard from my sister in September, when they were
tolerable. I visited them in July; I also visited Mrs.
Lambright, who sends a great deal of howdy to you.
I will now give you the good news of this place.
Commodore Perry has captured the Lake Erie fleet.
It is said, I believe from good authority, that Chancey
has taken five British vessels; also that our armies
have formed a junction and captured the whole of
Proctor’s army, except himself and his aids, who gal-
lantly took to their heels and left their brethren in
arms to shift for themselves. The consequence of
these successes is that a smile of joy rests on the
countenance of every honest Republican. Thank
God for all his goodness. It will not be worth while
to write again. I must conclude by begging to be
remembered to all inquiring friends.

“Tam your dutiful Son,

‘‘ JAMES O. ANDREW.”

This is certainly a creditable letter for a boy who
has had but little time for correspondence, and shows
that his education, if not advanced, was good as far
as it went.

How it rings! ‘The victories! the victories !
Perry has whipped their fleet, Chancey has captured
five ships, Proctor is captured.” The son of the man
who rode with Screven, and the descendant of the
race who won the day at Naseby will show his blood.
The work in Salt Ketcher is faithfully done, although
it has not been apparently successful. If anybody
has been converted he does not know it, but the year
is gore and he goes back to Elbert. Cicero may rest
JFames Osgood Andrew. 55

after he gets home, but he must move now, for mother
is waiting, and father and the children looking out
every hour.

Years after this, when Bishop McTyiere was a boy,
he heard his father and old Brother Hutto talking of
old times.

‘‘ And so,” said Brother Hutto, ‘‘ our kinky-headed
Jimmy is a Bishop.”

“Bishop,” said Dr. McTyiere, years after that, ‘‘I
thought you were kinky-headed.”

‘Qh, so I was once, but the trials of life have taken
all the kinks out of me.”

The boy is in Elbert again, waiting to see whether
they will continue him on trial. The Conference met
in Charleston again, and after a time he heard of his
appointment. He was to go to Bladen, in North
Carolina. If Salt Ketcher was in an unknown land,
Bladen was more so. But let him tell the story of
Bladen and how he got there.

“T was continued on trial and appointed to travel the
Bladen Circuit. This, as I ascertained, was a good
deal further off than Salt Ketcher. I understood it
was away in North Carolina. With all practicable
despatch I packed up again and started for my field
of labor.

‘“The Bladen Circuit in 1814 was mainly in North
Carolina. There were a few appointments, however,
in the limits of South Carolina. During the earlier
part of the year I travelled it alone, and preached
once in two or three weeks at each appointment. The
latter part of the year it was united to the Deep River
Mission, then travelled by B. C. Scott. After the
union our work extended from Marion District, South
56 The Life and Letters of

Carolina, embracing Robersqn and Bladen Counties,
to the line of the Virginia Conference, taking in Cum-
berland and Monroe Counties in North Carolina. As
to the face of the country it is not necessary to say
much ; in one part we had swamps and pine flats, and
in the upper part sand-hills innumerable and of no
mean altitude. In all the upper portion of our work,
that part embraced in the Deep River Mission, the in-
habitants were mostly Scotch, and Scotia had a re-
spectable representation in all parts of the circuit.
These were most of them Presbyterians, of whom
there were at that time two classes: the real old
Scotch Presbyterian, who considered it no harm to
drink whiskey or apple brandy either. Of the lasta
great deal was manufactured in that country, and it
was said to be in great demand at bunials, which were
reported to be frequently scenes of perfect carousal,
where those who had assembled to lay their departed
relatives in the tomb drank so deeply as to be unpre-
pared for the performance of this sad task. These
real old Scotch bloods would have no minister except
one sent over from Scotland. They must have one
well educated, sound in doctrine and usages of the
good auld Kirk, and then whether he were drunk or
sober was a matter of no consequence. It was prob-
ably deemed of some consequence that he should
keep his parishioners in countenance by loving and
taking a social glass. But there was another class of
Presbyterians—a very different class. God had raised
up a goodly number of faithful men who knew, expe-
rimentally, a pardoning God, and who went forth to
sound an alarm to the slumbering antinomian churches
of their order, and awaken them to a conviction and
James Osgood Andrew. 57

the nature of the importance of experimental and prac-
tical piety. Nor were their labors in vain: powerful
revivals of religion were experienced in many of their
churches, and many were happily converted-and added
to the Lord. These preachers were known by the
name of new lights, and between them and the other
class there was of course no kindly feeling. Many of
the people in Neuse and Cumberland Counties spoke
only the Gaelic, and could understand no other lan-
guage, so that I have frequently been a good deal
bothered and amused at the same time at my own
ineffectual attempts to get directions when I had
missed my way.

“‘ The advent of two Methodist preachers into sucha
country gave rise to no little speculation as to our real
character and objects. Some supposed we were too
lazy to work and were wandering about the country
to live without labor, while others charitably asserted
we were house thieves, who had broken gaol time
enough to escape the gallows. In the midst of all,
however, we were received kindly in many neighbor-
hoods, and succeeded in establishing preaching places
and small societies in many places. God gave us
some fruit of our labors.

‘We had our difficulties on the circuit; still, God
was with us. The people were generally kind, and
although times were hard and provisions exceedingly
scarce, yet they did the best they could. I recollect
at one or two of the appointments during the year we
had neither bread nor meat, yet providence gave us a
plentiful supply of peas, and as there was plenty of
grass in the woods the cows yielded an abundant

supply of milk, so that we lacked a great deal of starv-
3*
58 The Life and Letters of

ing. It will be remembered that the war was then
raging between us and Great Britain, so that it was
necessarily impossible to procure sugar and coffee at
any price; but then we were independent; we had
plenty of substitutes. There was no embargo upon
the labor of the bees. They supplied us with superior
‘‘ sweetening,” and as for coffee we threw ourselves
upon our reserved rights and had no lack of substi-
tutes. There was rye, sweet potatoes, pinders, the
bran of corn-meal parched—this made into coffee,
sweetened with molasses and drank out of the cup,
made a grand beverage.

‘Now we had the pleasure of trying all these in turn,
and in almost every variety of form; but don’t ask us
which we preferred. This is a delicate subject, as we
feel a sort of kindly old acquaintance regard for each
and every one of them. And then as to the Chinese
herb, we were perfectly independent of the whole tribe
of long tails in the Celestial empire. And why not,
when our own woods yielded so abundantly the fra-
grant sassafras? I recollect to have visited an excel-
lent Scotch Presbyterian family where every kindness
was shown me. When we sat down to dinner the
good lady, after serving us with an ample supply of
the substantials, went to the cupboard and, taking a
very nice clean gourd, dipped something out of the
piggin, and replenished our cups with the genuine fra-
grant sassafras tea, and this, sweetened with honey,
we founda most refreshing and delightful beverage.
But the year at length closed, and I took my leave of
many kind-hearted friends, and wended my way to
Conference by way of home.

‘‘My stay at home was brief, as I had to attend the
Yames Osgood Andrew. 59

Conference which sat that year at Milledgeville, Ga.
This was then a new town; the stumps fresh in the
streets and everything looked new. With a number
of other preachers I stayed at the house of a Mrs,
Jenkins, whose hospitality was extended to us without
stint. The Conference held its sessions in an unfinished
house belonging, I think, to a Brother Reynolds.
Bishop McKendree presided. The venerable Asbury
was present and occasionally took the chair. Such,
however, were his infirmities that he was able to give
his colleague but little assistance. I had occasionally
seen him before. Bishop McKendree I saw then for
the first time, and the appearance of both impressed
me deeply. Bishop Asbury I shall never forget. His
venerable countenance, and the deep solemn intona-
tions of his voice affected me greatly, and even now
the recollection of him as I saw him and heard him on
that occasion is as vivid as though it were only last
week. He usually sat on the platform by the side of
his colleague, and as occasion offered threw out some
of those sensible, pithy remarks which one could
neither misunderstand nor forget. I heard him on the
Sabbath morning preach in the church, but the dis-
course was short and he delivered it sitting. Behind
him sat his old and long-tried friend and fellow-laborer,
Hope Hull, who closed the services.

«Tt was then announced that the Bishop was unable
to attend to the ordination of Deacons, and they were
invited to his room in the afternoon for the purpose
of receiving ordination. Thither, therefore, in com-
pany with a pretty large class, I repaired at the ap-
pointed hour, This scene was an affecting and im-
pressive one. Once or twice the venerable Bishop
6o The Life and Letters of

had to rest during the services of ordination, and
seemed quite exhausted when it was finished. -

‘‘ Thad looked forward to the Conference not without
feelings of dread; it was a grave body and the ap-
pearance of two presiding officers rendered it still more
imposing.. I had not been without some apprehension
that I should fail to pass the ordeal necessary to ad-
mission into full connection, but the trial came and I
passed through unharmed. But do you ask how I
passed before the examining committee? Ah, my
good friend, fortunately for me and a score of others
that terrible body had no existence in that day.
The Conference only inquired whether we were pious,
industrious, conducted ourselves prudently among the
people, and whether we preached acceptably and
usefully ; if so, we passed muster without any further
difficulty, without calling us up before three or four
dignified and wise-looking inquisitors, who after study-
ing each man his lesson for twelve months, set them-
selves to bother young greenhorns about logic and
grammar, and an indefinite number of other things
with hard names, about which, in the glorious old
days, we were never troubled. The Conference closed
and I was appointed to the Warren Circuit, having
for my colleague Bryan Gause. Warren Circuit then
embraced Warren County and Columbia, and parts
of Richmond and Jefferson, and one or two appoint-
ments in Burke.”

The boundaries marked out in this article show that
the circuit was a very large one, and that in it were
many of the best class of Georgia people. Warren,
Burke, Jefferson, and Richmond were all represented.
Among those whom he mentions was one with whom
Fames Osgood Andrew. 61

afterward he held very tender relations—Mary Bost-
wick, afterward wife of Stephen Olin and sister of Mil-
dred Bostwick, the saintly wife of Asaph Waterman.
She was a bright and beautiful girl; her father was
then an officer in the State Government; the family
were prominent and wealthy. In a prayer-meeting
held by the young preacher, the gentle maiden became
deeply convicted, then she was swept back by the tide
of gaiety and apparently lost her convictions. Ata
camp-meeting held over ten years afterward she was
converted, and when Stephen Olin came with his won-
derful eloquence and swept through Georgia, Mary
Bostwick gave him her all.

Bryan Gause, a weak man, who sank into obscurity,
was Andrew’s colleague. During the year the young
preacher’s health gave way; he was now troubled
with the burdens of his poor old father, and sick hirn-
self, he had opened to him an opportunity to study
medicine and practise with his cousin, Dr. Moses An-
drew. He was sorely tempted to yield, but decided
to go on with his work.

He had now travelled three years, and his work had
extended from the middle of North Carolina to the
heart of Georgia. He was just twenty-one. His
own estimate of his abilities was always below their
real value, and he was, we may be sure, from the suc-
cess which attended him, no ordinary preacher even
then. Governor Schley was a young man living in
Richmond County, and he related to Mr. William C.
Derry an incident of which the Bishop makes no men-
tion. He said one Sunday some young men of wealth
and family came by and asked him to ride with them
to a Methodist meeting. He didso, anda young man
62 The Life and Letters of

rose to preach. The wicked wretches who were with
him were bent on mischief, and one of them threw
some sharp-pointed missile at the preacher and struck
him in the face. The blood followed the wound, and
Andrew, pausing, called upon the congregation to join
him in prayer for his persecutors—they did so. The
last one of those infamous scoundrels, said the gov-
ernor, is gone to a dishonored grave, and the young
preacher is your great and venerable Bishop.

He did a year of hard and useful work, and at its
end reported himself at the Conference for his first
appointment.
Fames Osgood Andrew, 63

CHAPTER. TH,
ON A STATION.

1816-1823. .

Charleston.—Appearance and Preaching.— Colleagues.— Ann Amelia
Macfarlane.—Her Parentage.—Marries Her.—Conference, 1816.—
Wilmington, N. C., 1817.—Stormy Voyage.—Kind Welcome,—Par-
sonage.—Church. —First Child.—Extracts from Journal. —Infidel Con-
verted.—Revivals.—Returned, 1818.—Happy Year.—Letters to his
Father.—Columbia, S. C., 1819.—William Capers.—Methodism in
the City.—Parsonage.—Some Trials.—Revival.—Augusta, 1820-21.—
Augusta Methodism.—New Parsonage.—Asaph Waterman.—Rem-
iniscences of General Conference.—James Russell.—Sayannah,
1822-23.—Affliction.—Loses his Babe.—Narrow Escape from Drown-
ing.—Kindness of the People.—Bishop Roberts.—The Singing Sis-
ter.—Lewis Myers.—Conference.—Sent to Charleston District.

E had now been three years'a preacher, but he

had preached, or made an effort to do so,

during those three years not less than seven hundred
sermons. He was always fluent with tongue and pen;
was dignified, sedate, prudent, and very deeply in
earnest. Charleston, to which he was now sent, was
a most important station; against immense odds and
facing the fiercest opposition, Methodism had grown
steadily in it. The bulk of the membership were col-
ored people, though there was quite a number of
whites. The Church demanded much work, and was
able to pay but little for it. Three preachers were
sent, and James O. Andrew was the youngest of the
three. He was then not quite twenty-two. He was
64 The Life and Letters of

quite stout, rather stern in look, rather awkward in
manner. His eye was a bright hazel; his hair thick
and curly. He dressed, as all the preachers did in
those days, in Methodist uniform. His manners were
brusque and his speech was blunt. One thing was
evident to all—he had a head of his own. He was
exceedingly agreeable to those he felt at home with,
full of sympathy and tenderness. Painfully timid,
and while not unduly so, sufficiently sensitive.

No one has said how he preached, and yet it re-
quires no effort of the imagination to arrive at a cor-
rect idea of both the matter and style of his pulpit
work. To call sinners to repentance, to meet their
objections, to overcome their repugnance to religion,
to awaken, to warn, to comfort, was the one work
then. His time for study had been very limited,
and he had probably done very little in these three
years in the way of securing literary culture, but
he had been studying men, the Bible, and his own
heart; had been learning the art of moving men. His
congregations were neither learned nor critical; they
were simple-hearted people, who felt for the young
preacher, and prayed for him, and looked for the best
from him. They were far from being what is common
now—critical without being learned, and. exacting
imperatively a style of preaching that neither good
culture nor true piety will allow. He had, of course,
little time for pulpit preparation. With such a pas-
toral charge, and his colleague sick, and three ser-
vices every Sunday, he had no-time for writing
elaborate sermons. So much he does not tell. We
will see now what he does.

The Conference of 1815 was to meet in Charleston,
James Osgood Andrew. 65

and the young preacher, who was now expected to.
attend, began his journey. He says:

‘On our route to Charleston we went through
Savannah, where I heard Bishop McKendree preach.
I still have a pretty distinct recollection of the text
and manner of the preacher. It was the first time I
had visited a seaport, and of course everything was
novel and interesting to me. I dare say all could see
I was a raw backwoodsman.

“© We reached Charleston in time for Conference, and
I found a hearty welcome and a pleasant home with
old Brother Peter Mood, who kept a silversmith shop
somewhere on King Street. Mine host was an active,
warm-hearted, impulsive old Dutchman, and his wife
an affectionate, good woman, one of the precious ones
of earth. The old people have long since passed from
the labors of earth, but the children still live, and the
savor of that mother’s piety is still found among them.
Her eldest son has long been an exemplary local
preacher; and four of the grandsons are traveling
preachers in the South Carolina Conference.’ The
Conference held its sessions in the old parsonage
house near Bethel church. I shall never forget the
opening prayer which was offered by old Brother
G.,a very godly man, and whose eccentricities of char-
acter will never be forgotten by the preachers of that
day. He began by giving the Lord a full history of
the decision of the previous Conference to hold its
present session in Charleston, with all the conditions
on which our assembly then depended ; gravely in-
formed his Maker that at our last session our country

 

11853. One of them, Dr. F. A. Mood, is now (1882) in Texas,
66 The Life and Letters of

was at war with England, and that British troops were
hovering around the harbor of Charleston, so that we
didn’t know but that the enemy might have it in pos-
session so that we should be unable to come there, in
which event we had decided to go to another place,
but that during the year our people had thrown up
intrenchments and stationed troops for defence;
finally that we had sent commissioners to meet those
of Britain, and the result was that peace had been
made, the British ships had left the coast, and we had
come to Charleston. This singular introduction over,
he applied himself to the proper work of prayer in
such wise as could only be done by one who was often
at the throne of grace and felt that he was welcomed
there.

‘Of the doings of the Conference I recollect but
little ; the session was not a long one, for in those days
our business was not complicated. The examination
of character, the admissions, elections, the return of
members, the steward’s report, and the fixing the
place of the next Conference was about all we had
to do.

“There was nevertheless one association which
stands connected with all my earliest recollections
of the South Carolina Conference, z.e., the Fund of
Special Relief. In due time that was always forth-
coming—our reverend and honored friend, the Rev.
Lewis Myers, was always in his place with that same
old green bag. The report of the state of the funds
was read, the proceeds distributed among the most
needy, and then our old friend was sure to call fora
collection in order that the institution might not be
much poorer for what they had just distributed to the
Fames Osgood Andrew. 67

Lord’s poor. Even now that annually recurring scene
is vividly before me, as the good old man went over
the Conference room poking his hat to us all, making
his collecting speech as he went on, then announcing
the result of his appeal with a return of thanks in his
own simple manner. I found the Fund of Special
Relief a well-established inmate of the family when I
entered the Conference. I know not when or by
whom it was first originated,’ but Lewis Myers
seemed, by common consent, the guardian of its
interests. It was a quiet, noiseless affair, but its
humble efforts have eased many an aching heart and
wiped away many a tear. It has now divided its
bands and pursues its quiet course of benevolence in
South Carolina, Georgia, and Florida. Long may it
live with increasing means and disposition to do good
and communicate.

“‘ But the closing of the Conference came and I was
appointed to Charleston with two colleagues, both my
seniors. I find, by reference to the old minutes, that
Thomas Stanley was put down as preacher in charge
of Charleston. It was my impression, however, that
Anthony Senter was in charge during the earlier part
of the year, and Stanley in Columbia, but the Bishop,
some months subsequently, found it necessary to
make a change in these arrangements. Senter was
removed and Stanley sent to Charleston in his place.

“* With Brother Stanley I lived in great union, anda
friendship was formed which continued till his death.
Thomas W. Stanley was an estimable man in every re-
spect, a man of great amiability, a sound, clear-headed

 

1Jt wasinstituted at Bishop Asbury’s instance, in Sparta, in 1805.—G. G. S.
68 The Life and Letters of

preacher, a man of decided piety, thoroughly Method-
istical yet free from bigotry. At the close of this
year he married and after a while located. The re-
mainder of his life he was engaged in teaching, for
which both he and his excellent wife were admirably
qualified. Wherever he lived he labored as a minister
of Jesus with great acceptability and usefulness. He
removed from Athens, where he had lived many
years, to La Grange, and subsequently died there.

‘‘T was awkward enough for a city preacher, but the
people received me kindly and God blessed me among
them. During the early part of the year my col-
league, Griffin Christopher, who had charge of the
church for some time, felt himself in such precarious
health that most of the pastoral work and a great
portion of the preaching devolved on me. I worked
hard but God sustained me, and blessed my labors
with some measure of success. We used to preach at
Bethel and Cumberland, and this year we took charge
of Trinity, which was now transferred to us by the re-
maining portion of Mr. Hammil’s society.

*« And now, kind reader, a slight peep at the parson-
age and its fixments, as I remember them in that day.
That old odd-shaped house, defying all sorts of archi-
tectural style, was a house of shreds and patches and
stood almost touching Bethel church. Below stairs
was the dining-room, stuck up in one corner; at the
other you went out into the yard, from a little cuddy
in which was the water-pail, but the grand room of
the lower story was the Conference room; in this was
transacted all the business of the station. Here you
met every week either stewards or leaders, white or
black, and here the preacher had to hear all cases of
James Osgood Andrew. 69

complaint and trial, especially among the blacks. To
this room also came, at stated intervals, all who wished
to join on trial. For the purpose of attending to all
other matters, one day in the week was set apart, and
the preachers had to be there all day.

‘Imagine a room, dear reader, raised only a few
inches from the ground with high fences on all sides,
crowded just as full as it could hold on a night in July
or August, and the preachers sitting there till bell-
ringing,’ and tell me, didn’t he*have a sweet time of
it? Then when he emerged from this bath-house and
sought to cool himself in the upper story, imagine him,
half melting, seeking to refresh himself on his pillow.
He enters a room some twelve feet square, with one or
two windows; after carefully adjusting his mosquito
net and seizing a favorable moment for rushing into
bed, and carefully stopping every crevice through
which the serenaders might possibly find access to
him, he stretches himself to get cool and go to sleep.
What think you of his prospects? The parsonage yard,
if it had any, was an encroachment on the old grave
‘yard. If you walked out tombstones were under your
feet, or all around you; if you seated yourself at your
window, and looked out to enjoy the beauties of a moon-
light prospect, tombstones everywhere arrested your
gaze, so that ours might properly have been called the
family among the tombs. There was one usage at
the parsonage which I think has gone out of fashion.
We had morning prayer in the Conference room. The

 

1In those days the bell of the city rang at a certain hour, generally
nine o'clock, and all negroes were required to be at home, unless they
had a gass from their employers. The official board were most of them
persons of color, at least the class-leaders were.
70 The Life and Letters of

gate was opened at an early hour, and from that time
until the hour of prayer arrived the blacks might be
seen urging their way to the parsonage to unite in the
morning sacrifice.

‘“‘ They prized this privilege highly ; and the aged
and infirm often walked a considerable distance to be
present. But this good old usage required early
rising on the part of the preachers, and it has, I be-
lieve, passed away. It would be improper to close
this notice without reference to one whose name and
history stand closely associated with the old Bethel
parsonage. Who that visited the parsonage in those
days can fail to remember old Sister Silena Smith, the
housekeeper? JI knownot when she first took charge,
but it was long before I went there. She loved to
wait on the preachers, and especially loved to talk of
the kindly notice taken of her by Bishops Asbury and
McKendree. I think she had received a letter or two
from the former. Even now it seems to me I can see
the old lady bustling about the house and kitchen and
hear her loud, clear voice as she sang hymns of praise
to God. The market was the place of attraction for
her after breakfast; thither she repaired to lay in
supplies for the day, as well as to gather the current
gossip of the city, especially in reference to church
matters. My old friend thought the market the great-
est place imaginable to talk secrets; there was such a
crowd, nobody took any notice of you. As to the cor-
rectness of this theory I have nothing to say ; but my
sister Silena certainly obtained a good deal of infor-
mation in her. daily tramps to the market, and the in-
terest and pleasure she seemed to derive from them
really made me sorry when bad weather (and it must
James Osgood Andrew. 71

have been bad) interfered with her daily excursions.
She was a kind-hearted, devoted woman, who loved
God and the church with an undying affection. She
loved to wait on the preachers, some of whom, I fear,
gave her pain very unnecessarily. She spent a good
deal of her time in visiting the sick and poor, and was
in several ways a very useful woman. She ultimately
left the parsonage and died at the house of one of her
old friends. Peace to her memory! Nor may I be
unjust to one who was perhaps not the least remark-
able character about the premises: this was old Marm
Phillis, the cook. She was a great Methodist—an
honest, kind soul, loved the preachers mightily and
loved to talk about religion in her way; but she
had a good deal of African pepper in her character,
and said and did pretty much as she pleased, without
any fear of housekeeper or preacher.”

The Presiding Elder for this year was Alexander
Talley, who died afterward in the West while mission-
ary to the Choctaw Indians. In May, James O. An-
drew, just twenty-three years old, not an Elder, the
junior preacher on a station, did an act of unparalleled
audacity for those times—/e married. Of course,
Brother Talley was distressed ; nothing is more try-
ing to the average Presiding Elder than for one of his
junior preachers to marry before he thinks he ought
to doso. And, of course, Brother Christopher, who
was sick, and perhaps a little fretful anyhow, gave the
young preacher some trouble. Though this tried him,
as he says in his journal, he was compensated well, for
the gentle Amelia was his wedded wife, and he had
the answer of a good conscience toward God. He
says in his old journal, the only one he seems to have
72 The Life and Letters of

kept, “In May I exchanged a single for a married
life—a life which I had always thought desirable, the
person of my choice was Miss A. A. MacFarlane, a
young lady to whom I had felt attached from our first
acquaintance. We were united on the first day of
May, and I trust we shall never repent our union.

‘« She has been for some years pious. She is about
my equal in fortune—both of us being poor; we have
therefore no interested motives in our marriage. I
now met with some trials from our Presiding Elder
Brother T. and my colleague Brother C., which dis-
tressed my mind considerably, but the Lord delivered
me out of it all.”

It did look daring, that marriage, but not often has
God directed an event more clearly. From the day
that Amelia MacFarlane took the unpolished, penniless,
and comparatively unlearned young preacher by the
hand, there was a rapid advance which never knew a
halt.

Alexander MacFarlane, her father, had been a sea
captain and then a merchant. He became a Method-
ist before James O. Andrew was born, and was early
a local preacher. He was a man of very fine educa-
tion for those times. He married a lady of German
origin. She was truly an extraordinary woman. Her
good sense, her industry, her piety, made her a true
helpmeet. By the kindness of his grandson, Dr.
Francis A. Mood, President of the Southwestern Uni-
versity, I have been permitted to read a letter from
this excellent man to his father, written in defence of
his having become a Methodist. It is most exquisitely
written, in a bold and graceful hand, and the senti-
ment is of the most exalted character. The letter
Fames Osgood Andrew, 73

shows him to be a man of cultivation and of very deep
piety.

He died after his wife had six children, and she was
left alone and in poverty. She was, however, a
woman of great energy, and having fine skill with her
needle, she supported them well and educated them
all. There were six of them, and of the four daughters
one married James O. Andrew, one John Mood, one
T. Mason, and one Thomas L. Wynn, all Methodist
preachers. The son, James MacFarlane, became a
physician of some distinction in New Orleans. Of
the grandchildren of this remarkable pair, there are at
present in the Methodist ministry, Dr. F. A. Mood,
of Texas; Henry M. W. Wynn and John Mood, of
South Carolina Conference; Alexander M. Wynn, of
the South Georgia, and James O. Andrew, of the Ala-
bama Conference; and Mrs. Octavia Andrew, Rush,
another grandchild, is wife of a Methodist preacher.
Two sons of Rev. Dr. Lovett, who married the
granddaughter, Elizabeth Andrew, are also.in the
same work.

Amelia MacFarlane was one year the junior of her
husband. She was, in 1816, just twenty-one years old
and he was not quite twenty-two. It was evidently
not a long courtship. He came in January, he married
in May.

There was, however, no risk in this haste. He
knew who she was and she knew him. They had not
known each other long, but they were not strangers.

She married a Methodist preacher—she intended
never to be in his way, but always to help him on.
ward. She had acted with her eyes fully open. She
was aware of the poverty and trial which this life in-

4
74 The Life and Letters of

volved. She loved the Georgia boy and she knew
his love to her. She was gentle, educated, accustomed
to the best society, and suited to be, as she was, his
guide and support. Many a blunder she saved him
from ; many an exertion she impelled him to make ;
his letters to her, to the very last one, have all the
warm gushing of his boyish love.
He was married in May, and no doubt Brother T.
and Brother C. predicted he would locate in De-
cember; and Brother Myers, when he heard the news,
made ready his scourge for the Conference session,
when he would forget all else but his duty to the
church and give that young mana lesson: Had not
Billy Capers done the same thing—married in his fourth
year and located >—and now James Andrew was going
the same way! Oh, the times, the times! The young
brederen, the young brederen! The temptation to
locate was strong. The circumstances of his father’s
family, the almost impossibility of living in the work
as a married man, the opposition of almost all the
preachers, and, for all that, the opposition of the church
to the early marriages of the preachers, united to urge
his retirement; but there were some things which
kept him in the field. His sense of duty was the
main one, and then the wish of his parents and the
gentle Amelia’s will. She had married a traveling
preacher: such he was, and such, if she could have her
say, he should be—and such he was to the end.
Marriage has made some, and, alas! has unmade not
a few preachers, and the example of young Andrew is
to be followed. when there is James O. Andrew of the
first part, and Amelia MacFarlane of the second part.
Sure enough, Brother Myers used the scourge, as he
Fames Osgood Andrew. 75

felt in duty bound to do, but he lived long enough to
know that the heart of the young Georgian led more
wisely than his own strong head. The year ended,
but before it did so the young preacher, with his fair
bride, went to Elbert to visit the dear old people. It
was asad visit. He says: ‘‘I felt considerably distressed
at seeing their situation—reduced to struggle with the
complicated evils of poverty and old age. A view of
these things produced a variety of emotions in my
mind, and location and the study of medicine again
presented themselves to my view. In fact I had well
nigh made a firm resolve to locate, but as Conference
drew near I could not reconcile it to my own feel-
ings, neither would my wife give her consent, she
being anxious that I should continue in the work ; so
in December I again went to Conference in company
with dear Brother Stanley, who had labored part of the
year in Charleston.

“The Conference was held this year [1816] at Colum-
bia, S.C. Bishop McKendree presided, by whom I
was ordained Elder. I had some little dread as to
how I should get through the Conference; not that
I had neglected my work, or been guilty of anything
very bad, but I had married during the previous year,
and in the older times the preacher who married in
the South Carolina Conference had to undergo a
pretty thorough catechizing. There were a few of
the old fathers who set themselves very sedulously to
guard the rights and authority of the discipline in that
respect. The little book says ‘take no steps toward
marriage without consulting the most serious of your
brethren ;’ and this was a pregnant text on which the
venerable chiefs of bachelorism never failed to preach
76 The Life and Letters of

the most solemn and impressive sermons to such young
men as ventured to desert the ranks of celibacy. Fore-
most among those who seemed to regard themselves
as specially called to the defence of this time-honored
law was our excellent friend, the Rev. Lewis Myers.
True as steel, whenever a young man’s name was
called and it wag announced that he had married dur-
ing the year, Brother Myers was at his post, and it
had to be explained whether he had acted prudently
in his marriage ; and this was a very important ques-
tion. It meant not only whether the lady was suitable,
but especially whether the brother had sought advice
from the most serious of his brethren; by which the
Conference understood the Presiding Elder, or some
traveling preacher. And if it was found that he had
been negligent in this particular, the honor of the Con-
ference and the dignity and authority-of the discipline
seemed to require that there should be some official
expression of disapprobation. Now the above clause
in the discipline regarded as advice is eminently judi-
cious, and a proper attention to it might prevent many
unsuitable and unhappy marriages among the preach-
ers. But the attempt to enforce it as positive law
could be productive of no good, but, on the contrary,
lead to evil. The preachers would-marry, and that
pretty much accordjng to their own liking. Gradu-
ally the impracticability of enforcing the rule led to its
practical abandonment. I had, of course, to pass the
ordeal; but I got through safely.”

From this Conference he wrote his father by Whit-
man Hill, who was going to his family home: in
Georgia : ;
Fames Osgood Andrew. 77

* CoLumBIA, December 30, 1816,
‘My HONORED FATHER:

‘* With unfeigned thanksgiving to that God who has
preserved my life and health so far, do I now take up
my pen to address the most affectionate of parents.
When I retrace my past life I discover the astonishing
displays of divine mercy and goodness. God has blessed
me abundantly more than I have deserved. While
under your parental care I received those instructions
and impressions which have laid the foundation of my
future happiness, I trust. When I think that God at’
an early age called me into his church, and gave me a
name among his people, I can never be sufficiently
grateful for his kindness; but oh, when I think how
unfaithful I have been since, and, notwithstanding all,
he has been pleased to bear with me and has given
me a name among his ministers and has been pleased
to succeed my feeble exertions by the divine energy
of his grace, I trust, if ever I get to heaven, I shall
see some there who have been converted to God
through my instrumentality. May I get there bring-
ing many sheaves with me.

“ Thave enjoyed, through God’s mercy, a moderate
share of health, only I have at present a bad cold.
About a fortnight since I left my Amelia in Charles-
ton, in good health, unwilling for me to be anything
-buta traveling preacher. Sheseems heartily to unite
with me in the work of God, and her zeal and diligence
in religious matters sometimes makes me ashamed. I
desire to be thankful to God for giving me such a
companion. One fortnight’s absence makes me pen-
sive, and I anticipate, with inexpressible pleasure, our
meefing again four or five days hence.
78 The Life and Letters of

“‘T communicated to you my intention of con-
tinuing to travel. I have had some conflicts with the
enemy on this score, but I can say, Lord, thy will be
done. God will provide. When I view the declining
state of the Church—so many of our preachers retiring
from the field of Jabor and sitting peaceably around
their firesides while souls are perishing for lack of
knowledge, gladly would I spend all and be spent in
this glorious work could I be the means of saving some
of them. Oh, my father, pray for me! help, oh help me
by your praying in this great work. I recollect that
when I parted with my dear mother she said to me,
‘Do your Master’s work.’ Never shall I forget her
charge: oh may I keep it. The present is an eventful
evening. To-morrow our Conference rises, and we
are waiting with anxiety to know our destination ; so
I will conclude my letter to-morrow. ‘

‘“‘T now resume my pen to conclude my ieter: I
have just returned from the Conference room. The
stations have been read out, and I am appointed to la-
bor the ensuing year in Wilmington, N.C. I expect to
start to-morrow morning for Charleston, whence I shall
sail for Wilmington. I feel the importance of my sta-
tion—oh that God may help me to discharge my duty
faithfully. Write me as soon as possible.

“Yours affectionately,
‘‘ JAMES O. ANDREW.”

Returning to Charleston he made ready, and, with
his gentle wife, took the good schooner Pennsylvania,
Captain Moore, for his place of appointment. “ For
some time,” he says, “‘we had a favorable prospect
of reaching Wilmington in two days, but froma variety
yames Osgood Andrew. 79

of circumstances we were eight days on our voyage,
during part of which time I was very sick. Upon
our arrival I found that the people had given me
up for lost, in consequence of several vessels having
been wrecked; but our God preserved us. I shall
never forget his goodness to me and mine. I find my
brethren here, as usual, friendly, and many of them
are lively members of the Church of Christ. For
some time after our debarkation my wife was afflicted
with a most distressing cough, but it hath pleased the
Almighty at length to remove it.”

The “ Reminiscences” say :

“‘T found the church in fine condition, the station
having been filled the two preceding years by those
excellent men, T. W. Stanley and S. K. Hodges.
They had both been eminently successful. God had
given them many souls to their labors; indeed, there
had been a gradual and steady revival going on in the
church for two years previous to my going there, and
it continued pretty steadily during the two years of
my stay among them. We had at no time an over-
whelming, sweeping revival, but almost every week
some were converted to God. Our class-meetings
were well attended and lively; our love-feasts were
always times of refreshing; prayer-meetings were
well attended, and God was present in his Spirit’s
power. Our congregations were large, respectful, and
serious, and there was scarcely a week in which there
were not some seeking, inquiring souls among us.
I think, take it altogether, it was the best revival I
have ever witnessed in any of the churches of which I
have had the pastoral charge. Now, I attribute this
pleasant state of things, in a great measure, to the
80 The Life and. Letters of

fact that the pastor had so many efficient helpers
among the laity, especially among the ladies. We
had a number of female members who made religion
their principal theme, because they enjoyed it in its
spirituality and power. Hence they were not
ashamed to preach Christ in their social intercourse,
nor were they alarmed at all when called upon to
pray in public. O, how many happy hours have I en-
joyed in the ladies’ prayer-meeting, which used to be
held, I think, every Friday morning in the church.
Sweet is the memory of those days—but they are
gone! and most of those excellent ones who used to
meet on those occasions are gone to their better
home above. May I meet them there at last !

‘“‘As to Wilmington—its situation, trade, and com-
mercial prospects—it is only necessary to say that its
former condition can scarcely be understood by those
who look at it in these railway days. The city has
greatly enlarged since my first acquaintance with it:
yet even then a good deal of business was dorfe and
many fortunes were realized. The old parsonage was
located outside of the settled parts of the town, except
that the hill on which it stood was pretty well covered
with small tenements occupied by negroes. On the
corner immediately above the parsonage stood the old
church, a large, unsightly barn of a house, built ori-
ginally by the Rev. Mr. Merideth, an Englishman,
one of Mr. Hammet’s preachers, a bold, intrepid, sen-
sible man, who seems to have been sent of God to
arouse the slumbering inhabitants of a very wicked
place to the fear of God.

“When I went to Wilmington I found a number of
excellent women who had been converted under our
yames Osgood Andrew, 81

ministry, and had been indulged in attending all our
class-meetings and love-feasts, but who had not joined
the Church because of the opposition of friends. It oc-
curred to me that it might be well enough to put
some of them to the test. So on one occasion, just
before love-feast, I told Sister Hartridge that she could
not enjoy the liberty of attending love-feast any more
unless she joined us, She pleaded hard, but I was
inflexible. I told her that if she would be resolute
and trust in God, I thought he would open the way
before her, and that God would control the heart of
her husband. She finally resolved to make the ven-
ture. She went ‘home, and, seizing an opportunity
when she thought her husband in a particularly
pleasant humor, asked his permission to join the
Methodist Church. ‘ Why, Anna,’ said he, ‘I thought
you had joined long ago.’ ‘Oh, no,’ said she;
‘I would not do it without your consent.’ He
asked no further questions. She was so happy that
she could scarcely sleep, and came up next day to tell
me the good news and get her love-feast ticket ; and
from that time she became one of our most active and
devoted Christians.

‘‘ During the year an event occurred in the vicinity
of Wilmington which created quite a sensation and
exerted an influence for good. A few miles from
Wilmington, on the sea-coast, at his beautiful resi-
dence, Grovediere, lived H. B. Howard, a man of con-
siderable wealth. His mother was a precious, godly
woman, a mother in Israel, who prayed much and felt
deeply for him; but he was an avowed unbeliever
(and there were not a few such in those parts about
that time). In this unbelief he had lived for many

4*
82 The Life and Letters of

years, and supposed himself thoroughly fortified. But
it pleased God to use the death of an old and faithful
slave as the means of his awakening and conversion :
old Peter felt sick and died, and was consigned to his
“humble grave some distance from the house of his
owner. A few days subsequently his master, in
walking over his plantation, found himself standing
by the grave of his faithful old servant. He silently
viewed for some time the little mound of earth which
covered the old negro’s mortal remains. As he
gazed he looked back upon the many years of faithful
service which Peter had rendered him. He thought
of his honesty, his humility, his consistent and unob-
trusive piety, and he almost involuntarily exclaimed :
‘Yes, old man, you are dead, but you are happy!’
The sound of his voice, and especially the sentiments
uttered, startled him, and he walked away designing
to leave the spot; but it was not long before he found
himself again at the grave of good old Peter, to pass
through the same train of thought and to utter the
same exclamation as before: ‘ Yes, you are dead, but
you are happy. But,’ added he, ‘if that be true
what becomes of my principles ? Peter was a Chris-
tian, and I have repudiated Christ and the revelations
of the Bible altogether; if my doctrine is true, how
can he be happy ? and if he is happy, how can my
doctrine be true? But may not the Bible be true
after all? Ihave never read it; I have never exam-
ined the evidences of its authenticity. Will it not be
wise in me to look into this matter a little more
closely ?’ He finally resolved that he would com-
mence the study of the Scriptures with an honest
desire to ascertain their truth, and if he found in the
yames Osgood Andrew. 83

Bible itself sufficient evidence of its authenticity, he
would renounce his infidelity and become a Christian.
He entered upon his work in good earnest, and as he
read light increased, until before he had gotten half
way through the book he closed it and exclaimed :
‘Yes, this is the Book of God.’ And now not only
was his infidelity gone, but he made a most astound-
ing discovery: that he was a lost man without a
change of heart. That change he set himself to seek
with all his power. He called his astonished friends
together and told them that he had all along been
setting bad examples before them, but that God had
opened his eyes, and that henceforth he intended to
lead a new life, and earnestly begged them all, white
and colored, to seek the Lord and aid him in his
attempts to serve God. It was not long before he
obtained the witness of pardoning grace; he united
himself with our Church, and the result was that quite
a number of his friends were converted and joined us,
among the rest his daughter, Mrs. Anderson, and her
husband. I shall never forget the night Brother An-
derson joined the Church. It was at a love-feast in
the old church. We had a most precious time. Quite
a number had joined, and the meeting was about to
close. I had noticed throughout the meeting that Mr.
Anderson was deeply affected, and I was specially
anxious for him.to unite with the Church at once ;
but there he stood, far back in the house, weeping but
immovable as a post. Finally I said, ‘We'll sing
another hymn,’ and we began ; but before we had gone
far my friend Anderson started and came rushing to
the altar, exclaiming as he approached, ‘Thank God,
I have conquered my pride.’ It was, indeed, a glo-
84 The Life and Letters of

rious victory for him. From that hour he never
faltered. He removed afterward to Louisville, Ken-
tucky, where he died a few years since in the faith and
hope of the gospel. His eldest son,* whom I baptized
in his infancy, has been for several years a beloved
and useful itinerant minister. In the month of April
of this year I first knew a father’s feelings, my excel-
lent wife having presented me with a daughter’—a fine
child, of course, and very pretty—-so all the ladies said
who visited at the parsonage ; but whether they sup-
posed that she had taken her good looks from her
father or her mother, I can’t now exactly recollect.
But I do remember that the thought of this relation
brought into my heart a train of affections and feel-
ings entirely new: we gave our little one to God, and
I believe the offering was accepted. God, I trust, has
made her his child, and to me she has been all that a
father cquld desire. And now, farewell to Wilming-
ton for the present.”

So far the recollections ; now the journal :

“April 4, 1817.—This day my dear wife was safely
delivered of a daughter. In eight days after its birth
we dedicated it to God in the ordinance of baptism.
Oh, my God, enable us to discharge faithfully our duty
as parents. I now purpose to commence on my birth-
day a journal of my life, which shall serve, when I am
gone, as arecord of my imperfections and the good-
ness of God toward me.

‘*T daily discover fresh proofs of my ignorance, and
feel now the importance of early improvement. Oh,

 

1The Rev, Dr. W. H. Anderson, now of Nicolasville, Ky.
2 Elizabeth, afterward Mrs, Dr. Lovett.
yYames Osgood Andrew. 85

had I spent those hours in useful reading which were
spent in reading romances, I might now have been
better qualified to instruct others. I desire ardently
to acquire useful knowledge, but one great misfortune
with me is that I cannot confine myself to the unin-
terrupted perusal and investigation of any one work ;
I love to explore a multiplicity together—my genius
is quite volatile.

“ May 3d.—I am this day twenty-three years of
age, and whenI look back on my past life it seems asa
dream untome. But yesterday, when I retrospect,I was
a child, enjoying all the amusements of children, know-
ing nothing but the happiness of the day, and scarcely
anticipating the evil of the morrow. Those days of
sportive happiness are fled with their endearing pleas-
ures, and have been succeeded by the-more solid pur-
suits of my riper years. The desire for childish amuse-
ments has given way to a thirst for useful knowledge,

_and I can now only look back and reproach myself for
having spent so much of my time in the pursuit of but-
terflies and gaudy trifles. Could we learn from advice
what we learn from experience, how many might save
themselves the pain of repenting old age. How short
the time of our probation, how soon is our work ac-
complished and we are summoned to give an account
of our stewardship. I have spent twenty-three years
to very little purpose. Lord, forgive an unprofitable
servant and help me to do better in time to come.
In a little more than twelve months I have become a
husband and a father. God has given me as a bosom
companion one whom I believe is wedded to Christ
Jesus by a living faith, one who is engaged in the
Master’s work. I have been for more than four years
, 86 The Life and Letters of

an itinerant minister, and notwithstanding the many
trials incident to such a life, I prefer it to all others.

“Yes, the sweet union and communion with the
brethren amply repays me, and the prospect of glory
more than compensates me for all. I shall live and
die among them if the Lord’s will be so, but I want a
more entire conformity to the Saviour’s image. I
want to be sanctified wholly throughout soul, body,
and spirit. We had a good love-feast last night. Three
joined society. Oh, may their names be written in
the Lamb’s Book of Life. Wehada good prayer-meet-
ing yesterday. Several of the Episcopalians attended.
Many of these love our meetings, and some of them
would join us but for fear of persecution ; however, I
believe some of them will reach heaven. If they are
not against us, they are for us. To-morrow will be a
sacred day to the followers of the Redeemer, for we
then expect to commemorate the sufferings of the
Saviour of sinners. May each communicant be able to
say by faith, ‘He died for me.’ May we behold with
sacred joy the symbols of his broken body and his
shed blood.

“On this day began another year of my life. May
it be spent more wisely than any former year of my
being. I feel a great desire to read the Scriptures in
the original language, and have determined to devote
a part of every day to the study of the Hebrew tongue.
T lack both books and instructors, yet I will try ; there
is nothing like perseverance.

“« May 5th.—I went to-day to the foundation of the
new house we are building. I should rejoice to see
it finished before I leave, but I fear the want of funds
will prevent.”
Yames Osgood Andrew. 87

The journal evidences that he had improved much,
but still he had better use of his tongue than of his
pen. The patient study, however, of old Dillworth in
the Elbert schoolhouse is manifest, and the spelling is
nearly always good; the chirography, if not graceful,
yet always legible. He says he had been reading
Rollin, a great book in those times. His comments
on the history and its lessons are very apt and pithy.

He evidently had the same trouble that pastors in
small towns always have, and comments: ‘‘I daily
see more and more of the bad effects of tattling, yet
how many of our people love to be guilty of it, to the
injury of the Church of God. Oh, Lord, destroy this
evil from among us.”

Visiting the sick was an office he had often to fill,
and on Monday, May 13th, he says: ‘‘I have this
day paid several visits. I went in the forenoon to
visit old Mr. Lymas, who is dying of consumption and
who is very near the grave. He appears to be in some
degree sensible of his state. I endeavored to point
him to Christ Jesus, and after having commended
him to God in prayer, I left him. In the afternoon I
visited another sick family who were in great distress,
and in the evening I was called on to visit a poor
sailor who was sick. I found him strongly con-
victed for his sins, and I exhorted him to look to the
friend of sinners. I prayed for him, and left him with
a promise that I would call the next day.

“« May 13th.—I called this morning on the poor man
I visited last evening. I found him under deep con-
cern for his soul, though his health was better.

“TI visited Mr. L., who was, to all appearance, near
the grave. He said his pain was so great that he could
88 The Life and Letters of

not pray. I have seen the fatal effects of putting off
repentance to a dying hour.”

Wednesday, after preaching, he says: ‘I felt the
precious melting influence of the spirit of God and
could say by the Spirit, ‘Abba Father.’ I have heard
good news from our camp-meeting—five thousand peo- .
ple attended on Sunday and fifty whites professed
conversion. Glory to God for his goodness.

“ Friday, 16th.—I am conscious of my defects ; is it
not my privilege to be holy, yet how far beneath it do
I live? Oh, Jesus! raise me higher, nearer to thyself.

“Sunday, 18th.—I this morning visited the Episcopal
church and attended the Sunday-school attended to
regularly by the ladies of this place ; there were, I sup-
pose, thirty children present, and I was edified by being
there. Oh, Lord, do bless these pious females in their
work of love! I then heard Rev. A. Empie preach.
It was the first time I was ever present at the Episcopal
Church service ; I think, although it may be very good,
yet it is quite too prolix, and necessarily has a tendency
to make people formal. I am more in favor of Mr.
Wesley’s plan for public worship—sing short hymns,
pray short prayers, and preach short sermons.”

From this entry it is evident that the Methodists
did not have a Sunday-school in Wilmington at that
time. He adopted Mr. Wesley’s plan, of which he
speaks. I can remember, in my childhood, when I
often heard him, that one of my chief pleasures in see-
ing him in the pulpit was that I knew he would preach
so I could understand him, and not be long at it. He
says again: ‘‘ My health is not good, but all I want is
Jesus. Give me Jesus and my soul is satisfied. Oh,
how ardently I long for the salvation of God even in
Fames Osgood Andrew, 89

Wilmington. God be merciful to me an unprofitable
servant,

“« Fune 17th.—I have this day been considerably un-
well and have thought much of the other world. It may
be that this year may finish my work below, and oh, if
I can only finish my course in peace, all will be well.

‘““T was to-day much edified by reading an ac-
count of Mr. Kirkland, an Indian missionary, as also
an account of the first Danish missionaries to the East
Indies. When I read of their sufferings and diligence
I blush; when I read of their success I rejoice. I
sometimes think if I could speak the Asiatic languages
and Providence opened my way, a missionary life
would be preferable to any other, and yet there isa
large field for laborers in America.”

He longing to be a missionary, who had been one
all his life. The year before, three thousand souls, as
truly subjects of mission labor as the Hindoos, and
this year seven hundred, were under his care, but the
spirit which drove to regions beyond was there. If
they had not made him a Bishop and if the Bishops
had said the word, he would have died in Africa.

‘‘T am sometimes depressed when I think of our pros-
pects. We have but few traveling preachers now and
they are diminishing, and but very few are coming for-
ward. I have only one consolation, and that is that the
work is God’s, and he will provide means to carry it on.
Another source of uneasiness is, we have a large and re-
spectable body of local preachers in Georgia,and among
them: are those who seem disposed to overthrow the
present order of the Methodist Church, and. establish a
new system of government. I trust that God will
order all things right in the end.
90 “The Life and Letters of

‘* Monday, 23d.—1 had a sore conflict with the
enemy of my soul’s salvation. I was gréatly tempted
to leave off preaching from the reflection that I do no
good, and would do a great deal better in the corn-field
than in the pulpit, yet I feel that a dispensation of the
Gospel is committed to me, and woe is me if I preach
not the Gospel of Christ Jesus. I feel also that God
delivers me when I look to him.

“* F¥uly 29th.--1 have seen and heard a great deal of
human misery and wickedness; yet, praised be the
Lord, these were not the only scenes which I have be-
held. J have seen some precious outpourings of his
grace. I have heard the cries of broken-hearted peni-
tents and the shouts of heaven-born souls, and have
seen the people of God edified and walking in the fear
of the Lord.”

His journal gives a full account of the conversion
of Henry B. Howard, brother of John Howard, which
is also given in his reminiscences. He speaks of
another deist who died in Wilmington while he was
there, who, when he found he must die, repeated the
Apostles’ Creed, and quoted many passages from the
New.Testament. Headds: ‘‘ Men may live fools, but
fools they cannot die.”

There was much sickness in Wilmington, but his
family escaped serious attack. His wife left him on
December Ist to go to Charleston, and he followed on
the 22d, in his old sulky, of which he gives so graphic
an account.

In September, 1817, he wrote the only letter which
has been preserved. It was. mailed to John Andrew,
at Lexington. The family had now removed from
Old Elbert :
Fames Osgood Andrew. © QI

To JOHN ANDREW.
7 «« WILMINGTON, September 26, 1817.
““My DEAR FATHER:
“ These lines will inform you that I live and enjoy
a good degree of health, thanks be unto God for
his goodness. Amelia is also well; our little girl has
been very ill for a few days, but, blessed be God, she
has recovered in a good degree. The town has been
unusually healthy throughout the season until with-
in a short time past, and even now it is not sickly,
as usual at this season. I am still striving to know
and do my Master’s will. I find this the most pleas-
ing of all employment, when I can stand on the walls
of Zion and invite sinners to the Lamb of God, who
takes away the sins of the world. I want only more
holiness. Oh, may I be wholly the Lord’s! I think
I can say the prosperity of Zion is the principal de-
sire of my soul. I daily see more and more that if we
serve God, we must serve him alone. Our religious
prospects are pleasing in this place, glory to God for
it. We have had considerable accessions to our so-
ciety latterly, and are expecting more shortly. May
God increase the number more abundantly. This
place has once been Satan’s seat, perhaps it has been
the greatest nest of deism that was to be found, con-
sidering its size, but our God has shaken them terri-
bly, and their faith seems to be staggered. Oh, that
many of them may become the disciples of Jesus. At
our last love-feast, ten joined the society. I have
gained in the course of this year, in this place, nearly
forty whites and about one hundred blacks ; the work
is also spreading in the adjoining neighborhood. God
is awakening sinners, converting mourners, and there
92 The Life and Letters of -

appears to be an increasing degree of love and peace
among the society. I have already begun to antici-
pate the time when I must leave this affectionate peo-
-ple. Were I to give way to my nature, I should be
sorry, but I have given myself to God and his work,
and shall not complain. I must now draw to a close.
Amelia received mamma’s letter. I cannot tell at what
time this winter I shall be able to see you, or whether
it will be in my power to bring my wife with me. My
next will inform you. Amelia unites with me in love
to yourself, my beloved mother, our brothers and
sisters,
*‘T remain yours,
‘JAMES O. ANDREW.”

The growth of the young preacher had been swift
since he began his ministry, and he never grew more
rapidly than during this first year in Wilmington. The
blessed effects of his happy marriage were manifest,
and the good results of the Bishop’s appointment.
Many a young man had been lost in obscurity by
never having been called out and put up to his met-
tle ; many a man who might have made a preacher of
the highest order has been dwarfed by the decision of
those in power that he would never do for a place
which he was, perhaps, not then fully prepared to fill.
The wisdom of the Bishop in taking Lovick Pierce
from the Apalachee Circuit and putting him in Au-
gusta, and taking James O. Andrew from the Warren
Circuit and placing him in Charleston, was vindicated
by results. They were called upon to put forth all
their strength, and they did so. The journal shows
that the preacher in charge at Wilmington ate no idle
SFames Osgood Andrew. 93

bread. He preached on Sunday at 11 A.M., again at
- 3 P.M., and again at night; Monday night, prayer-
meeting; Wednesday night, preaching ; Friday night,
class-meeting—four sermons a week and one prayer-
meeting. It is aremarkable fact, and one worthy to be
studied, that when these frequent services were held,
and when they were often long, the people attended
them better than they do now when they are fewer
and shorter. Nor did the preacher break down in his
work. Lovick Pierce lived to be ninety-five, John
Early and James O. Andrew to reach nearly the eigh-
tieth year, while many a studious dyspeptic, who
manages to employ thirty-five minutes on Sabbath
morning, and is then exhausted, both in mind and
body, is a valetudinarian at forty.

He went to the homely little parsonage he describes,
without complaint. It was the best a poor, warm-
hearted, willing people could do, and there was no
shrinking from the discomfort. He was the Lord’s ;
he was to go where the Lord said and do the work
assigned to him, and take what came as from his
hand.

The Conference, as we shall see, met in Augusta,
Bishops McKendree and Roberts both being present.
The reminiscences tell of the session; the journal of
something more touching.

“‘I went up into Oglethorpe County to visit my
dear old parents. After a very fatiguing route, I ar-
rived at the little cabin in which they dwell, and,
praised be the name of God, I found them all in
good health, and, though they are very poor, they
appear happy and contented. If Jesus is an inmate
of the family, then surely there is peace. When I
94 The Life and Letters of

look at the situation of my parents, when I see them
destitute of many of the comforts of life, Iam almost
tempted to locate; yet when I think again that God
has called me to other work, I cannot consent to leave
the field of itinerancy. If I am doing the Lord’s
work, may I not be assured of his protection being
extended to me and mine? Have I not the promise
of God? Then upon this I lean. After staying a day
or two with them, I again started for Wilmington.”

What a beautiful picture! Two hundred miles
through mud and cold, to spend two or three days
with the aged parents in their old cabin home ; nor did
he go empty-handed, we may be sure. Scant as the
support was in Wilmington in those days, there was
enough to keep the dear old people in Oglethorpe.
Such grand faith, too. Tempted to locate—yes; but
not to secure a sweet home for Amelia and the little
girl; not to secure exemption from long rides and
weary toil; not to escape ecclesiastical tyranny, as the
phrase went in those days; but to take care of an old
father and the best of mothers. But the reminiscences
must find a voice.

‘The year closed, and I was to leave a people be-
tween whom-and myself there existed the kindliest feel-
ings. A week or two prior to my own departure I
sent my wife and child, by sea, to Charleston on a
visit to her mother. I determined to go by land, and
for this purpose I purchased a horse and borrowed an
old sulky, and set out on my route through the swamps
of the two Carolinas for Charleston. Before my sec-
ond day’s journey was accomplished I discovered that
my land craft was not to be relied on; it might do
for Wilmington, but a week’s run over pine-roots in
Fames Osgood Andrew. 98

the country had a very unfavorable effect on its in-
tegrity. The infirmities of age pressed heavily upon
it, and it required all my skill, together with a num-
ber of rope appliances, to reach Charleston after a
long and fatiguing ride. My route from Wilmington
was by way of Town Creek, Shallotte, across Peedee
at Grier’s Ferry, Black River, at Pringles, and so on
to Georgetown; thence across the delectable cause-
way at Santee Ferry, and on to Charleston. If any
of my readers ever traveled that road in December
about thirty-five years ago, they can form some no-
tion of the pleasures of my trip. One incident con-
nected with it I give. Ihad been traveling hard all day,
in order to cross the Peedee before dark, but night
came on while I was two or three miles from the
river. It was a dismal road, and I was a stranger,
not knowing the way nor where I might lodge.
My feelings, of course, were not the most delightful.
While thus jogging along I discovered a man trudging
through the water a little ahead of me. [I hailed and
brought him to a parley. It was a negro on his way
to his wife’s house. After conversing a few moments,
‘Massa,’ said he, ‘ain’t you Mr. Kennedy ?’ (my ex-
cellent Presiding Elder). ‘No,’ said I. ‘Well,’ said
he, ‘ youis a Methodist preacher, and I isa Methodist
and knows a heap of de preachers.’ What led him to
suspect my character I don’t know, for it was quite
dark, and there was not, I believe, anything in my voice
resembling my beloved Brother Kennedy; but the
meeting with the negro was quite a providence to me,
and my strange brother and myself were soon on the
best of terms. He kindly consented to pilot me through
the swamps to the ferry, which was very fortunate, as
96 The Life and Letters of

there was no house at which I could stay till I could
cross the river. Before reaching the main river we had
to ferry over a large creek called Bull River, and then
half a mile brought us to the main river. When we
reached it the hour was so late that the ferryman
had left for his house, which was so far off that all
our hallooing failed to rouse him. In this dilemma
there were only two alternatives: one was to sleep
all night on the bank, which was not a very pleasant
anticipation ; and the other was for my good friend to
walk back to Bull River, get a canoe and paddle it
into the main stream, and then come down to the
ferry and go over to the other side, bring the flat
over, and put me across. This act of kindness he
cheerfully performed, and thus relieved me from a
very awkward and unpleasant predicament.

« Arriving at Charleston I found my friends all well,
and after spending a few days I left for Conference,
which was held in Augusta. Our company consisted
of Bishop McKendree, Wm. M. Kennedy, Wm. B.
Barnet, Lewis Myers, and Wm. Kennedy, whom by
way of distinction we used to call Little Billy; and
let it be borne in mind that a trip to Augusta was a
much more serious affair in those days than now. We
had then no puffing, snorting express which could
land us there in four or five hours. It was then a four
days’ jog, with the delightful variety of swamps, mud-
holes, and pine-roots. During the three days of our
journey which brought us to Tinker’s Creek, our com-
pany was exceedingly pleasant. Bishop McKendree
was very communicative and interesting, and what
with his very intelligent conversation, his genial good
humor, and the keenness of his wit, he kept us all the
Fames Osgood Andrew, 97

while interested and amused, but when we reached
the memorable Tinker’s Creek the scene changed.
The Bishop was unwell, and he began by this time to
fear that Bishop Roberts, in consequence of the un-
usually heavy floods of rain, would not meet him in
Augusta. The result was that he became quite taci-
turn, nor could all the efforts of our host (him of holly-
leaf memory) draw him into any sort of discussion,
although our landlord entertained us with a learned
disquisition upon the various religious opinions which :
divided the world. He said it was a subject on which
he had been at work for twenty years, sometimes laying
down the tools, but soon resuming them ; but that he
had at last worked out the problem. He said he
had discovered that all the varieties and shades of re-
ligious opinion were embraced under three heads,
free will, Bond will, and Restitution. But even this
important announcement failed to interest the Bishop,
who pleaded headache and retired to bed. Thenext
morning found him not at all improved in health, and
it was obvious that the venerable man preferred not to
be interrupted, so we youngsters took the hint and
kept to ourselves. We reached Augusta safely and
the Conference began the next day.

‘« Bishop McKendree was alone for the first few days,
but toward the last of the week Bishop Roberts ar-
rived. He had been prevented from reaching earlier
by high waters. He was in fine health, and we were
all quite in love with the new Bishop. The night be-
fore he reached Augusta, at the house of the excellent
Dr. Moon, in Newberry District, occurred the incident
which has furnished the text for the exaggerated story
which has been so often published, entitled, ‘ Bishop

5
98 The Life and Letters of

George and the Young Preacher.’ I recollect that
one morning during the Conference Bishop McKen-
dree exultingly held up before us a neat looking
pamphlet. ‘See here,’ said the old gentleman. Well,
what was it? Why, it was the first number of the
Methodist Magazine, which, with hard scuffling, and
after much delay, our book agents had brought out.
The announcement produced quite a sensation in the
Conference. Up to that time we had not even a
‘thumb paper through which we might converse with
one another from Maine to Georgia, or through whose
columns we might be able to repel the numberless as-
saults which were constantly being made upon us.
We felt that we were rising in the world. Yet it
would seem that in that day it was doubted whether
enough original matter would be forthcoming for the
monthly issues ; so there was a committee appointed
by the Annual Conference to collect and forward mat-
ter for publication. I don’t know whether it was so
in all the Annual Conferences; I know it was so in
the old South Carolina. The magazine was published
for several years, when, in consequence of the estab-
lishment of one or more weekly church papers, it was
changed to a quarterly. The time of which I have
spoken was the close of 1817. What a change since
that time! Now it is a smart job to count up all the
church papers, North and South.

““The Conference closed and I was ordered back to
Wilmington ; so, returning to Charleston for my fam-
ily, I was soon fixed up and under way for my field of
labor. But asI had a feeling remembrance of my

eight days’ voyage of the previous winter, I resolved
to follow the advice of my seafaring friend, and try it
James Osgood Andrew. 99

this time by land ; so I procured an old gig, and taking
my wife and child aboard, we started for Wilmington.
There had been unusual floods of rain, and the roads
were consequently very bad; and we had no small
difficulty in making our land navigation. Once we got
into a mud-hole and were fairly mired down, so that
I had to take my wife-and child out in my arms, and
then with much ado the horse was enabled to pull out
the empty gig. When we reached the Waccamaw
River at, or near, Conwayborough, we were ferried
over by two white women—rather a novel arrange-
ment, but they performed their task well, and landed
us safely on the opposite shore. We finally reached
our old home in safety, and met a warm and cordial
welcome from our friends. We spent a second de-
lightful and prosperous year in Wilmington. The
work of God continued steadfastly to advance, and
the Church increased not only in numbers but also in
piety. In addition to a large and_ respectable
membership among the whites, we had also connected
with the Wilmington church a very large society of
blacks, I think somewhere about seven hundred mem-
bers, and, take them together, it was about the best col-
ored church it has ever been my lotto serve ; a consider-
able number of them were rather remarkable for their
intelligent piety. When I first went to Wilmington
they raised all our tunes, and it was generally very
well done. The leader of the music was Roger Hazel,
a cooper, aman of exemplary character and consider-
able intelligence. In fact, I believe that Roger con-
tinued, during all my stay among them, the chief leader
of our singing. The blacks sung very well, and it
would have mattered but little who raised the tunes,
100 The Life and Letters of

they would infallibly have led them, as they a// sung,
did it well and lustily, and with a good will. Talk of
good music! Why I have stood in that old pulpit on
a Sunday night after preaching my third sermon, and
just when we were closing with the last hymn, some
four or five hundred would raise their voices in praise
to God, and I assure you that it exceeded all the
organs and choirs I have ever listened to.”

He writes home in March:

‘¢ WILMINGTON, N. C., March 11, 1818.
“My DEAR FATHER:

“Through Divine goodness I still live, and both
myself and family enjoy a reasonable portion of health.
After leaving your house my horse recovered from his
lameness in a great degree, so that I prosecuted my
journey in safety. I reached there on Saturday night,
and found my family and friends all well. We left
Charleston on Tuesday morning, following, and after:
a most fatiguing journey arrived safely here Feb-
ruary 28th, and met with a very warm and affectionate
reception from the people. Oh that our coming
here may be for good. As respects religious pros-
pects, I wish I could give a more flattering account.
At present I can only say our congregations are
very large and appear to be serious. Oh that they
may be doers and not hearers of the word. As is
usual after a numerous ingathering, I expect there
will be considerable outgoing this year. Lord, give
me wisdom to use'the pruning knife aright. I yet
feel like dying a Methodist preacher. I love my God
and feel a continual yearning of soul to be conformed
Fames Osgood Andrew. 101

to my Saviour’s image. I long most ardently to be
an able and successful minister of the New Testament.
I trust that these lines will find yourself and family in
good health. Give my love to mother and all the
girls—in short, to all my sisters and brothers.

‘* Amelia sends her love to you and all. I shall ex-
pect to receive a letter from you shortly.

“Tam yours in love,
“JAMES O, ANDREW.

““P. S.—Tell mamma that Elizabeth begins to talk,
but she is getting to be quite a bad child.”

Again he writes:

‘“WILMINGTON, June 5, 1818.

‘My DEAR FATHER:

‘* After waiting for some length of time, and feeling
a considerable degree of uneasiness, I received your
letter a few days since, and now sit down to answer
it. Irejoice to hear of the health of yourself and
family, yet I cannot avoid feeling ill at ease on ac-
count of your straitened circumstances. The reflec-
tion often depresses me, yet in the midst of all I
have this comfort—I believe I am engaged in the
work which God designed me to perform, and God
himself, who has hitherto provided for you and me,
will still take care of you and yours. J have reason
to thank God that I enjoy at present a good share of
health, and feel still like doing my Master’s work.
My family also enjoys health at this time. Our little
daughter has been very ill, but through much mercy,
God has given her to us for a while longer. Our
religious prospects are rather pleasing. The work
102 The Life and Letters of

seems to be of God and to be still growing, and we
hope to see yet greater times. I have joined in so-
ciety this year about twenty-five whites and several
blacks. We had a very good camp-meeting in this
neighborhood a week or two ago. Pray forme... .

“‘And now, relative to the complaints about the
traveling preachers. I would say you already know
my sentiments concerning the murmurings of the local
preachers in Georgia. There are many among them
who, no doubt, are good men and mean well, but I do
not think their claims admissible. It is an old adage,
‘A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush.’ The
itinerancy has been already owned of God in a very
glorious manner. The new plan that discontented
spirits would suggest has not been tried. We know
not that it would succeed, and there are many objec-
tionable features in it that would lead me to be sus-
picious of its excellence. In the first place, whatever
be the reason assigned, I believe the real intention is
to immolate the old plan entirely and establish a new
order of things. The itinerant plan established by
the Father of Methodism must vanish entirely, and it
would be succeeded ultimately by a government en-
tirely congregational. Look at the situation of most
of the congregations in that part of the country which
are under local government, and we see what we
may expect when we tread in their footsteps.

‘‘T know that there are many individuals in these
congregations who are pious, but take them in gen-
eral and how little of the power of religion is there to
be found among the majority of these local congrega-
tions! It is anatural tendency of the faithful itinerant
ministry to keep up the life of religion among their
Fames Osgood Andrew. 103

hearers more than any other. Yet if it should be said
of them they do not wish this, let us for a moment
examine a few of the different steps which they have
taken, and the requests which they have from time to
time urged. I believe they first wished to have some
alteration made relative to the ordination of local
preachers, and then they wished that those preachers
should be allowed a delegation to the General Con-
ference; then they wanted a seat in the Annual Con-
ference, and now they offer their services to the Su-
perintendent on principles altogether inadmissible.
They will be the servants of the Conference, but the
Conference must give them charge of certain societies
in each circuit where they labor, and over these the
circuit preacher is not allowed to exercise any author-
ity. Half a circuit is to be under local, and the other
half under itinerant government. If I have misrepre-
sented them it has not, I assure you, been done inten-
tionally.”

The other sheet of the letter is missing. A good
letter, this, for a young man of twenty-four, who has
just begun to study. Clear, sensible, strong views he
always had ; conservative he was, too. Conservative
is a bad word, if we conserve a bad thing, and a blind
conservatism would be the bar of all progress. When
a thing is bad, radicalism is the only remedy—root it
up! away with it! But we must be very sure the
thing is bad before we begin with the spade to dig
about it. Progress is good, but all change is not
progress.

He was a man always for facts. Does this thing
work well? Has that plan been tried? If not we
will hold onto this forthe nonce. Anda thrifty young
104, The Life and Letters of

fellow he seems to have been. He had traveled hard
circuits ; he had received but little pay; but he had
bought a piece of land worth $450, and by and by
he will have a home for the dear mother and the old
father. This was the last letter from Wilmington.

Postage from Lexington to Wilmington was fifty
cents fora double letter, and fifty cents was a good
deal for old John Andrew, with his large family of
girls.

We have lingered a good long time under the green
oaks along the banks of Cape Fear, but the time for
leaving has come.

He found ninety-two white and over seven hundred
colored members on the church record when he came,
and he left one hundred and seventy-nine whites and
seven hundred and seventy colored.

His Presiding Elder for these two years was his
old friend, Wm. M. Kennedy. Few men ever labored
in the South Carolina Conference who did their work
better than Billy Kennedy, as the people were pleased
to call him. He was short, stout, genial, full of good
humor, and remarkable for his strong sense. With
Lewis Myers he long stood at the head of the Con-
ference. In questions of judgment they generally
agreed, but sometimes they differed. When they did
the Conference generally sustained Kennedy. It
passed into an adage that Brother Myers was nearly
always right, but Billy Kennedy was never wrong.
James O. Andrew owed him much, and a loving heart
paid the debt to the full as far as love could pay it.

The sturdy Kennedy died of apoplexy, not long
after his protégé was made a Bishop. He had mar-
ried one of the flock of James O. Andrew in Wilming-
Fames Osgood Andrew, 105

ton, and years after, the Bishop had the care of Francis
Milton Kennedy, the noble son of his first Presiding
Elder. Need we wonder at the deep parental affection
he had for that son? They are all gone now—and earth
is the poorer.

At the Conference he was sent to Columbia, S. C.
Methodism in Columbia was but about twelve years
old when James O. Andrew followed William Capers
in charge of the station. It had had a hard struggle
for life. Isaac Smith had laid the foundation of the
Church there, and his brother’s daughters (one of whom
had married John Veal and the other John Bryce), with
their husbands, were among the first members of the
society. Lovick Pierce, Reddick Pierce, and Thomas
Stanley had been among the young preachers. The
Church had grown strong enough to build a parsonage,
such as it was, and William Capers had been dwelling
in it for two years. Capers was then about twenty-six
years of age. He had entered the Conference in
1808, traveled a few years, located, buried the wife
of his youth, married again and returned to the field
to which he believed God had called him. Few men
could have differed more than William Capers and
James O. Andrew. Few men loved each other better.
The old Huguenot blood was in Capers ; the old Puri-
tan blood in Andrew. The father of Capers was an
officer under Marion; the father of Andrew.a:soldier
under Screven. The father of Capers became a Meth-
odist, strangely enough, and so did the father of An-
drew ; but here the parellel ends.

Four years before James O. Andrew was admitted
on trial, William Capers began his itinerancy. The
year Andrew was admitted into full connection, Capers

5
4

106 The Life and Letters of

located, to remain nearly two years in unhappy re-
tirement. He then began to travel again. How dif-
ferent the two men were in look and manner. Andrew
was as rugged as.a nugget of gold just from the mine ;
Capers as elegant as the gold polished by the hand of
an artificer. Capers was scholarly in taste and fasti-
dious in manner; Andrew was bold in thought but
careless and almost blunt in manner. The one was
the child of wealth and luxury, and the most fashion-
able and wealthy had been his associates; the other
was from the people, born and brought up in a cabin
in the backwoods. While Capers was in the college
Andrew was in the corn-field, and while Capers en-
tered the Conference from a college hall, the first of
his Conference who had done so, Andrew came from
his humble home without even academical training.

Capers was always a popular preacher, and he had
filled the church in Columbia with the most cultivated
people in the city, who were drawn thither, not by
love for Methodism, but by curiosity to hear the
gifted young preacher,. And now, Andrew, painfully
timid—conscious of lacking those popular attractions
which belonged to his predecessor—feeling most
deeply his need of mental training, was sent to take
his place. He says in his journal:

‘‘T finished my second year in Wilmington and left
there some time in the latter part of December for
the Conference, which sat in Camden. On leaving
Wilmington, I feel grateful that God has brought me
through another year, and that I am enabled to leave
this people in so much peace. On the other hand, I
feel considerable pain at parting with an affectionate
people; truly, they have been kind and loving to
Fames Osgood Andrewy 107

me and mine beyond what we had any right to ex-
pect. Many of them expressed considerable sorrow
at parting with me, for I have some spiritual children
in that place, and my feeble efforts have been blessed
to the good of some others ; however, the Christian’s
hope is that we shall meet again on high.
‘We reached Camden. We had only one Bishop
with us. Several members of Conference absent. A
‘number of locations. Not many received. On the
whole, we have lost in-point of numbers among the
preachers, and, what is worse, we lose experience.
When shall we love the work of God so as to be wil-
ling to forego every worldly comfort for its sake?
Lord, keep me near thy side. At length the moment.
so anxiously looked for arrived. The appointments
were published; my appointment was Columbia, S.
C.; Ihave received it with an aching heart. There
were several reasons combined to make me feel seri-
ous. The station is important. I succeed a man of
popular talents; and I know not whether it is pride,
but something whispers to me, ‘ Your congregation
will fall off; Methodism will not advance under your
administration as it would under his.’ But perhaps
this is a temptation. I will go forward, trusting in
the Lord; if he have sent me, he will bless my labors.
Suffice it to say, we are here safe at last. God has
blessed me with another daughter; I am now the
father of two lovely children, and every member of
“my little family enjoys a fair share of health. Oh,
my God! give me grace to discharge my duty prop-
erly toward these little ones, that they may be raised
in the fear of the Lord.
“‘ March 24th.—In the midst of all my blessings I
108 The Life and Letters of

find great sluggishness, so that Iam obliged to drag
myself to duty. How often does this cumbrous house
of clay seem to clog our noblest efforts of the soul!
Oh, may I reach that blessed country where I shall be
clothed with an immortal spiritual body !

‘‘Blessed be God! I awake this morning from
slumber much invigorated in body, and, what is better,
when I retired after breakfast to read and pray, I felt
considerably refreshed and comforted. Oh, my God!’
make me clean in heart. Is not perfect love obtained
by simple faith? Oh, for faith, a faith which em-
braces all the fullness of redeeming mercy. Lord
Jesus! make me holy altogether.

“ Wednesday, April 14th.—This day has been a
solemn one to me. An awful sense of the situation of
the society in this place has hung upon my mind
throughout the day. Our situation is indeed gloomy;
I believe I might say with propriety that there has
been scarcely a conversion among us for two years.
How long, oh Lord, how long! Oh, Head of the
Church, undertake for us. Thine arm alone, oh, Lord!
thy only arm can accomplish this work. Blessed
Jesus! our situation is critical, for while we are thus
feeling a dreary winter, Satan is not idle. He is
marching victoriously on and destroying souls for
whom the Redeemer died. It may be that the fault
is on me. Lord, search me and try me, and if there
be any evil way in me, remove it far from me.
Lord, show us. the hindrance, that we may put it
from us. In the course of the day I have been edi-
fied by reading an account of the revival of the work
of God in Albany, as well as in other places in the
North, particularly in reading Brother Crawford’s
Famcs Osgood Andrew. 109

letter. The state of his mind and his feelings on going
to Albany agree so nearly with my own, that I am
encouraged to hope that God will deign to look in
compassion upon us. I endeavored to preach this
evening to a tolerable congregation. I used great
plainness of speech, and felt my soul greatly drawn out
for the salvation of people. Oh, Lord! thou alone
canst give the increase.”

On Sunday, the 18th, he preached on ‘‘ Who is on
the Lord’s side?” Had great liberty and a gracious
class-meeting after service.

“T am still an unprofitable servant. Oh, that I were
more holy ; then I should be more useful. I have not
enjoyed myself to-day as I could wish I had done.
Ihave not had God so constantly before me. Oh!
these hearts, how often they wander, and how soon do
they leave the good way, unless they are constantly
under the cross of Jesus! What a great need for a
single eye !

“ May 3, 1819.—This day is the anniversary of my
birth. Twenty-five years are gone since I first saw
the light. Every day in all these years has been full
of blessings, and I have had many valuable talents
committed to my care concerning which the Almighty
has said to me, ‘ Occupy till I come.’ I have missed
many opportunities of doing good. Oh, for a closer
walk with God! Lord, increase my faith! It is so
easy a matter for unbelief to assume the semblance of
humility. Thus, sometimes when I have prayed for
the success of my ministry, I have been ready to say:
‘Have I any right to look for the Divine blessing on
my imperfect exertions ?’ Not remembering that al-
though the instrument is clay, yet the word of the
110 The Life and Letters of

Lord is perfect—yea, the Gospel is the power of God
to salvation. Oh, that from this time I may be more
entirely devoted to God. Oh, may I be more wise to
win souls than heretofore.”

His journal says that in the latter part of the year
there was a tolerable revival of religion.

It is very evident that the year in Columbia was a
trying one. He came out of a large, warm, loving
church to preach among strangers, where the church
was small in numbers, and where his labor seemed to
be largely in vain. His journal does not mention the
character of his afflictions, but says they were severe.

The reminiscences say:

“And now a glance at the parsonage. It was a
one-story house, unpainted, with two small rooms and
one tolerably large one. The furnishings consisted of
two beds and bedsteads of the plainest material; a
table, the necessary supply of furniture therefor; and
our parlor furniture consisted of some four or six very
common chairs and two or three long benches. It is but
justice, however, to admit that in the course of the
year the good sisters added considerably to our outfit ;
and it may be well, also, to say that having a pastor
who was married was rather new, as I was the second
married preacher that had been on the station. Some
time ago I was in Columbia, and dined in a handsome,
commodious parsonage, well furnished, and all its
apartments good enough fora prince. I thought of days
of yore, and looked across the street for my old ac-
quaintance, but the place thereof knew it no more.
After a few weeks I went down to Charleston and
brought up my wife and two little girls, for my Amelia
had presented me with a second blessing, my sweet
Sames Osgood Andrew. 111

little Mary, whom the Good Shepherd took to his fold
above, a few years after, in the city of Savannah. We
jogged on pleasantly through the year. We had some
troubles, but why talk of them? Everybody has had
their own, and will feel but little interest in listening to
the recital of my trials, temptations, and conflicts of
thirty years’ standing. Upon the whole I had a
pleasant year, and witnessed some prosperity in the
Church. We had a comfortable revival during the
year, in which a goodly number were. gathered into
the Church, and we had generally peace and pros-
perity.”’

There is only one letter from him during this year
which is preserved. It is to his father, and is beauti-
fully illustrative both of his filial affection and of his
stern adherence to duty:

« CoLumBIA, S. C., September 8, 1819.
““My BELOVED FATHER:

‘‘When I wrote you last I expected before this time
to have been on my way to Georgia, instead of which
I am still in Columbia, and see no prospect of visiting
you in less than three months. The cause of my dis-
appointment is this: when I last wrote to you I had
consulted my Presiding Elder on the propriety of go-
ing to Georgia and returning to my station previous
to Conference. He agreed to my proposal on condi-
tion that he should be able to find a preacher to fill
my place during my absence, and he thought at that
time he should be able to succeed in this plan, but
when he had gone round his district he was disap-
pointed in his expectation ; no substitute could be
procured, and there remained no other alternative
112 The Life and Letters of

than for my station to be left destitute during my ab-
sence, or else I must procrastinate my visit until De-
cember. Here was a conflict in my mind between
inclination and duty. I have, however, at length re-
solved to regard the interests of the Church first, and,
rather than leave the station alone in its présent situ-
ation, have determined to remain at my post a while
longer. This is painful to me, and I anticipate your
disappointment in receiving a letter instead of your
children; but I believe that both my mother and your-
self love God well enough to approve my conduct.
Myself and my family are in tolerable health at pres-
ent, and the town is healthy to a considerable degree.
Our religious prospects are encouraging at present.
We have had a camp-meeting near this place, which
was greatly blessed to our congregation here. Since
the camp-meeting, which has been a little more than
a week, twenty-seven whites have joined the society,
and the work appears to be still going on. Glory to
God for his goodness to us! Never, my dear father,
did I labor on a station with greater despondency than
I have done in this for the preceding part of the year.
I despaired of seeing fruit; but God has exceeded my
most sanguine expectations. Oh, that the work may
goon! Help us by your prayers. I rejoice to hear
that you have entered again into the ministry. I
hope God will make you more abundantly useful in
your old age. There have been numerous revivals
among the Methodists in the Western County. The
last has been a year of considerable increase through-
out the United States. We have added eleven thou-
sand two hundred and ninety-seven, so that God is
carrying on his work among us. May the number be
SFames Osgood Andrews 113

yet enlarged. We expect, God willing, to leave
Columbia for Georgia about December 13th. My
wife unites with me in love to you all.
‘“‘T am your affectionate son,
“JAMES O. ANDREW.”

This letter was followed in two months by his visit
to his parents, who were then living in Oglethorpe
County. It was not far from one hundred and fifty
miles, over the roughest hills of middle Georgia. The
stay must needs have been brief, but he never failed
to visit the dear old people every year if he could pos-
sibly do so.

From Oglethorpe to Charleston, nearly three hun-
dred miles, he went with his good Amelia to the Con-
ference, which met in that city, and received from
Bishop George his appointment to Augusta, in
Georgia.

During the seven years he had been in the ministry
he had only spent one of them in the State ofhis birth,
the one onthe Warren Circuit, fivé years before. He
had developed wonderfully as a preacher in these five
years. Four sermons every week on a station and
six on a circuit made a preacher as no other school
could make one. The young man had not been idle ;
he had read much and thought more. He had had
limited but accurate training in his father’s school-
room. He had married a woman of very exact cul-
ture. He had been thrown with the best Southern
people, and he had withal a mind of very remarkable
character. He was an orator born. His soul was
on fire to save men; he had a heart full of love—full
of faith and the Holy Spirit. He was now welcomed
114 The Life and Letters of

into every pulpit. He came to Augusta, however, ata
trying time. They had never had before this a married
preacher sent tothem. The year before, while Henry
Bass was on the station, he had married, and as the
Church was greatly strengthened by the revival of
the year, he had projected and built a parsonage, the
first in the State. It was, however, not paid for, and
Andrew was sent to occupy it. When he reached
Augusta he found the little four-roomed house rented
out to pay a debt which was over it.

Methodism in Augusta was now twenty years old.
In 1799, Stith Mead, who was visiting there, established
the first Methodist Society, and, indeed, the first or-
ganized church of any kind. An Episcopal church
had been erected as early as 1757. It was burned
down, and a church was built which was used by all
the denominations, but belonged to the Episcopalians.
Stith Mead organized the Methodist Society, and in
1800 he began to build the church which Bishop An-
drew describes. It was then on the common. The
lot was a large one, and on it a little four-roomed cot-
tage was now placed as a parsonage. The society
was, after many vicissitudes, a little over one hundred
strong. They were, for the first time, to support a
married preacher. It is always a trying time to a sta-
tion or a circuit when it finds itself in this condition.
Single men of ability, cultivation, and experience, or
men just married, are always in demand by such
charges, and the demand very generally exceeds the
supply. The parsonage was finished, it was true,
but it was not paid for. It was evident that the
Church expected Brother Hodges to send them a
single man for this year of 1820, and then they could
Fames Osgood Andrew. 115

support him, and the debt on the parsonage could
be paid by renting it out. Official boards have often
been deluded by the idea that the preacher who
costs the least money is the easiest man to support,
and that the quickest way to get out of debt is to
reduce expenses by getting a cheap preacher; but
Samuel K. Hodges,.the sagacious Presiding Elder,
knew better than that, so, instead of a single man and
a cheap preacher, he sent James O. Andrew, with his
wife and two children. Andrew drew large congrega-
tions and was much admired, but he says in his jour-
nal his trials were not afew. His support was scanty,
his family was growing, his father and mother de-
manded his care, he had already continued in the
traveling connection longer than most who had mar-
ried, and he resolved to locate.

He would study medicine, practice, and preach, and,
while doing good work for the Church, take care of
those dependent onhim. He had settled it—he would
locate; but he did not, for the good Amelia would not
consent. He should travel on if she had her will, and
if he needed help she would help him. She knew how
to work and work she would; he must not, should not
leave the field, so he staid.on his post.

Samuel K. Hodges, who entered the Conference with
Andrew, was his Presiding Elder. He saw the neces-
sity of giving to the two leading stations, Savannah
and Augusta, men able to do the work, and he placed
William Capers in Savannah and James O, Andrew in
Augusta.

The General Conference was to mect in Baltimore
in May, and at the same Conference at which he was
appointed to Augusta he was elected a delegate to
116 The Life and Letters of

the General Conference. He was quite young, only
twenty-seven, and had never been ona district, and
the compliment conferred shows how high was the
estimation in which he was held. There were ten dele-
gates. Three of these, Samuel K. Hodges, William
Capers, and James O, Andrew, were young men; the
others were among the oldest of the body. The Gen-
eral Conference met in Baltimore, and for the first time
‘Mr. Andrew went North. He tells of how he got there,
in giving an account of the Conference. On horseback
to Petersburg, Va., from thence, by way of City Point,
to Baltimore. He found himself a member of the
General Conference and in one of its most memorable
sessions.

He possessed rare skill as a word painter, and he
gives a graphic picture of the body as it appeared in
the famous debate on the Presiding Elder question.
Jimmy Axley, William Winans, and Joshua Soule were
fine subjects for a painter’s pencil, and he draws a vivid
picture of them.

We have anticipated a little; we return to the rem-
iniscences :

“Of the doings of the General Conference I cannot
pretend to give anything even like a bird’s-eye view.
It was a dignified and imposing assembly, and as I sat
and surveyed the company of grave and reverend men
before me, I felt myself rather a small man. Now, I
don’t like to praise myself, but the fact is, I behaved
very well; sat, and looked, and listened, and had too
‘much sense to attempt to make a speech, though I was
always at my post when the vote: was taken. The
great subject of discussion was to make the Presiding
Elders elective. This question brought out a pretty
Games Osgood Andrew, 117

good display of eloquence on both sides; the dele-
gates from the Northern and some of the middle Con-
ferences going might and main for the change, and
those from the West and South standing up for the
established order of things.

“The discussion brought to my ears some strange
things. I had been taught to love Methodism from
my childhood, and had great respect for the Epis-
copal office and a high admiration for the venera-
ble men who filled it, and had never dreamed that
half the dreadful things could by any possibility be
conjured up in connection with the working of its
machinery which I heard from the lips of orators on
that occasion. These startling announcements, coming
from men of great note in the itinerant ranks, quite as-
tounded me. The power of the Bishops ‘was fearful ;
the existing system was anti-republican—smacked of
popery—in short, the rights of traveling preachers de-
manded a change, and ruin must come if the change
was not made.

“To be sure, Methodism was doing well—very well.
It was sweeping over the land with almost resistless
force; but still the touch of ruin was upon us if
- we did not stay the hand of despotism by curtail-
ing the power of the Bishops. Certainly the present
incumbents of the Episcopal bench were good men
and true, and perhaps not much danger was to be ap-
préhended while they lived; but then they might be
succeeded by ambitious men, who, being in possession
of such tremendous power, might take it into their
heads to act the tyrant. This feature in the discussion
struck me with much force. All admitted that the
present operation was good enough ; but we must look
118 The Life and Letters of

ahead and secure our posterity from trouble. Now,
for myself I felt very much inclined to let alone that
which was operating favorably, and let our posterity, if
necessary, make such changes as their circumstances
might demand, seeing they would be just as competent
as their fathers to change the system if judged neces-
sary. ,

‘‘T had supposed then, and my opinions have un-
dergone no charige, that the system of itinerant Meth-
odism was founded on the principles of mutual sac-
rifice on the part of both preachers and people, and
I am very niuch inclined to the opinion that if the
itinerant preachers had so acted as to secure in the
minds of their people the conviction that they sought
not their own accommodation, but the great inter-
ests of the Church, and that they were willing and
ready to take their part in the sacrifice, we should
have had fewer reform bills among us. But when
the people saw that the General Conference was
disposed to guard the rights of the preachers, re-
lieving them of a large part of the sacrifice under-
stood in the original compact, they began to in-
quire into the expediency of seeking relief from a
part of the sacrifices which they were expected to
make. With these views, whether right or wrong, I
was not greatly surprised at the subsequent reform
movements which took place in Baltimore and else-
where. I have always believed that the discussions
of the General Conference on that occasion gave a
mighty impulse to the movement which resulted in
the sad disruption of the Church which followed.
The orators in favor of change had proclaimed to the
world that our system was rotten. Indeed, it was
Fames Osgood Andrew. 119

shrewdly discovered that we had no constitution, no
organic law in our system. No wonder dissatisfied
spirits, acting on such high authority, set themselves
to pull down the old building whose rottenness was
announced in such bold and commanding terms, in
order that they might rebuild it according to the im-
proved style of modern ecclesiastical architecture.

‘‘ The Presiding Elder question was the all-engross-
ing subject of the session: Finally, when it was suf-
ficiently obvious that the original resolution would
not pass the Conference, a proposition was made, I
think by E. Cooper, from Philadelphia, that a com-
mittee be appointed from both parties to meet and
consult with a view to harmonizing the Conference in-
the settlement of the question before us. This move-
ment succeeded. The committee was appointed, and
in due time presented their report, which, as well as I
recollect, modified the original so as to give the An-
nual Conferences the right to nominate a certain num-
ber, out of which number the Bishops should be
obliged to select the Elders to be appointed. This
report was introduced with a flourish of trumpets.
It was agreed to by all parties of the committee, not
that it exactly suited either side, but then they had
mutually agreed each to surrender a little, that we
might once more see eye to eye as brethren, and thus
give to the Church and the world a glorious example
of the way in which Methodist preachers managed to
bury the tomahawk. Several glorification speeches
were made over the report, and almost the whole
Conference seemed to rejoice in the prospect of unity
which had dawned upon us. There were a few of us,
however, who doubted, and thought we saw in this
120 The Life and Letters of

peace measure a full surrender of the great principle
at stake. To us it seemed that the North had gained
all they asked; consequently, though in a hopeless
minority, we voted against the report, for which we
were no little jeered by our colleagues. One circum-
stance I may not omit. Pending the discussion on
the report, a plain man, dressed in the ancient cos-
tume of a Methodist preacher, was seen to walk de-
liberately up to the Secretary’s table. All eyes were
turned toward him as he stood for a few moments ex-
amining the report. When he had satisfied himself,
he turned to the Conference and exclaimed in a loud
voice, ‘Brethren, it’s nothing but a trick.’ He then
resumed his seat. But that brief speech awakened
a perfect outburst of indignant remonstrance from all
‘parts of the house. I recollect that our friend Cooper
was particularly eloquent, and exasperated that such a
damaging insinuation should be made as to the mo-
tives of the dear and honored brethren who had pre-
sented this glorious peace measure, and that any
brother should have attempted to throw such a fire-
brand into the Conference just at the moment when
all was about to be peace and love. But all this elo-
quence was thrown away upon James Axley, who
witnessed the thunder and lightning which his speech
had called forth with the most perfect unconcern,
and who in less than two days found that there were
not a few who thought with him.

“It was supposed that now we had settled the great
question we might go on with other business in peace ;
but peace was not yet. During the evening there
was no little discussion in private circles as to the doc~
trine of Axley’s speech, so that.the members from the
Fames Osgoog Andrew. 121

West and South were, in a great measure, prepared for
the events of the next morning. I should have ‘re-
marked before that Joshua Soule had been elected to
the Episcopal office a day or two previous, but had
not as yet signified his acceptance. The next morn-
ing, when the Conference opened, a paper was laid on
the Secretary’s table from Mr. Soule, stating that he
could not, consistently with his views of constitutional
Methodism, act with conformity to the resolutions
adopted the previous day, as he regarded them an in-
fringement on fundamental, constitutional principles
of Methodist Episcopacy as received from our fathers,
and, consequently, declined to accept the office of
Bishop to which he had been elected. This announce-
ment was unexpected, but it created a powerful sen-
sation in the house, and we were favored with not a
few bold and eloquent attacks on the Bishop-elect.
He was charged with breaking up the peace and
harmony of the Conference, which only the day before
had been so happily established, and presuming by
his single arm to nullify the grave and well-considered
action of the whole General Assembly ; and, of course,
many felt that it was a consummation devoutly to be
wished to keep him out of the Episcopal office. But
the object of their denunciations remained perfectly
calm, as though all was sunshine and May around him.
After the shower of arrows had pretty well spent it-
self, he arose, and with great calmness and dignity
replied to his opponents in a speech, strong, clear,
bold, and in fine temper and spirit. A part of that
speech I shall never forget. ‘Why,’ said he, ‘ should
I desire the Episcopal office in our Church? In its

present circumstances, from the moment of my con-
6
122 The Life and Letters of

secration I should have to regard my wife a widow
and my children fatherless. No, sir, the office of
Bishop in the Methodist Episcopal Church has no
charm for me.’

‘‘ This speech, together with one from Bishop Mc-
Kendree, setting forth his views of the unconstitution-
ality of the compromise resolutions, produced quite a
fluttering among the Western and Southern men, sev-
eral of whom began to feel that they had got into
the wrong pew; but how to get back was the qués-
tion, To be sure, a majority of the Conference was
prepared to reconsider its acts, but then could it even
be brought to a vote? The compromise men, seeing
they were about to lose their victory, it was under-
stood had resolved to break the quorum of the house
whenever a movement to reconsider was made.

‘* What was now to be done? We were in a diffi-
culty ; but then we could not stay there. We had a
man among us, bold in plan and execution, and fruit-
ful of resources. It was very hard to get him ina
tight place, and still harder to keep him there.
Straightforward in his course, he could, upon occa-
sion, play pretty deeply at the game of management,
and if his opponents were forgetful of courtesy and
delicacy, why, then, he seemed to adopt the maxim
that it was proper to fight them with their own
weapons. He undertook to lead us safely through
the difficulty. He drew up a set of resolutions, sus-
pending the new Presiding Elder law till the next
General Conference. To these resolutions he ob-
tained the signatures of a majority of the members of
the Conference, and when a motion was made to re-
consider he stated to the Conference that he had un-
Sames Osgood Andrew. : 123

derstood that it was the purpose of the friends of the
new law to break the quorum. He then warned them
that nothing would be gained by such a movement,
‘ for,’ said he, holding up the paper, ‘I have here the
names of a majority of the delegates, and should you
act in the manner threatened, we shall record these
resolutions as the decision of the majority.’

“‘T don’t recollect all the minor details of this affair:
I know, however, that the new Presiding Elder law
was suspended in its operations for four years; that in
1824 some attempt was made to galvanize it into life,
but the battery was not sufficiently powerful, and the
thing remained in a torpor for four years more ; and
in the General Conference of 1828, held at Pittsburg,
it received not even a Christian burial. ‘The carcass
had been so long dead that its odor became offensive to
some of its former devoted friends, and it was thrown
overboard without even reading the burial service
over it.

“ And now, before we leave this subject, it may not
be uninteresting to give a sketch of some of the
prominent actors in this scene as we remember them,
The most prominent man on the side of changing the
rule was James Smith—a man of rather fine appear-
ance, bold and fluent as a speaker ; a man of consider-
able intelligence, but given greatly to speculation.
He could pull down without any difficulty, but build-
ing up required rather more of practical skill than
he possessed. As aman, I should judge that he was
quite estimable, and was influenced by high and
gracious impulses. And then there was our estimable
friend, H. Bangs, whose praise is in all the churches,
and the venerable Ezekiel Cooper, whose long expe-
124 The Life and Letters of

rience and acquaintance with Methodism gave him
great weight in the Conference. Shrewd and far-
seeing, he was rather an’ ugly customer for a hasty
opponent. From Baltimore there was John Emory,
a polished speaker, clear-headed and logical, and Al--
fred Griffith, and the venerable, eloquent, and warm-
hearted William Ryland, who threw his whole soul
into every speech he made, no matter what the sub-
ject. From New England, the accomplished and
sweet-spirited Fisk, who looked then as if he could
not remain very long on earth, though he lived and
labored for many years after; George Pickering, ven-
erable in years and long and faithful services to the
Church; Elijah Hedding, who was four years later
raised to the Episcopal office, which he honored so
long by the sanctity of his life and the faithful and
intelligent performance of his high and holy duties ;
Dr. Timothy Merritt, who wrote a book on ‘ Sancti-
fication,’ and who used to deliver lectures to the
General Conference on the same subject. We might
mention many others, but cannot in this brief sketch.
But we must not omit the name of a little bald-headed
man from New York, who occupied a very prominent
position during the whole of this struggle. None who
were present at that and several succeeding General
Conferences can fail to remember Daniel Ostrander,
rather slow of speech, cool and self-possessed, and a
man of kind spirit, though he dealt his opponents some
heavy blows. He was an estimable man, and adhered
to the fortunes of his favorite scheme when almost
everybody elsé had deserted it.

“On the other side there were Joshua Soule, himself
a host ; old Stephen G. Roszell, of whom we have al-
Fames Osgood Andrew. 125

ready spoken, a man of strong original powers, bold
and decided in all his movements—rather a hard
hand to manage in a controversy. From South Caro-
lina, W. Capers, Dunwody, Kennedy, and my old
friend Lewis Myers. From Virginia, H. Leigh, T.
Crowder; I believe John Early was not a member
of that Conference. From the West we had Finley
and Quinn and the two Youngs; and from Tennes-
see my good old friend T. L. Douglas, McMahon,
and others whose names I do not now recollect.
But there was another from the West, whose début
made a more profound impression on the Conference
than anything which occurred during the debate. A
slender and rather rough-looking man arose to speak.
He was plainly clad, wore no cravat, and his whole
appearance indicated that he paid no undue attention
to the dress of the outer man; and then his manner
was rather awkward. ‘Who’s that ?’ was whispered
all around, and it was obvious from the actions of
the members that not much was expected; but be-
fore he had spoken five minutes heads were up, and
all eyes were directed toward the speaker, who soon
proved himself fully equal to the task he had under-
taken. He was listened to with profound attention,
and when he closed, James Smith was the first who
pressed up to give him a cordial shake of the hand,
and offer his congratulations upon the speech just de-
livered. This was the first appearance of William
Winans before the General Conference, and it estab-
lished beyond contingency his claim to talents of the
first order.

‘‘There is one more point connected with this his-
tory to which we will briefly advert before we close.
126 ‘The Life and Letters of

It will be seen by reference to preceding remarks that
the Baltimore Conference was divided on the Presid-
ing Elder question. Emory, Waugh, Griffith, Morgan,
and possibly some others went heartily for the change.
Soule, Roszell, and some others opposed it. Some
time after the General Conference the first-named
brethren judged it proper to publish a pamphlet, ex-
plaining to their constituents their course and the
reasons for it. In this tract Mr. Soule was thought to
be pretty strongly assailed, and it is said that strenuous
efforts were made to keep him out of the next General
Conference. These efforts, however, failed signally,
and Mr. Soule and his friends were elected by a tri-
umphant majority, and were in their places at the next
session. On the great question about which we have
said so much the Bishops were divided: McKen-
dree’s position we have already stated; Roberts and
George were understood to favor the change.”

After an absence of about two months he returned
to Augusta. His home during the year was with
Asaph Waterman. He says in his journal of this
year:

“« We had some little revival toward the close of the
year. I was reappointed to Augusta, and through
intolerable roads and weather returned with my whole
family ; found some glad and some sorry that I had
returned. However, they are obliged to take me for
better or worse. Lord bless me and bless the people,
that we may all yet rejoice together. God has in
good degree blessed my labors in the early part of the
year.’ Up to August 7th we have joined twenty-
seven, but we have lost a goodly number of the fruits
of former years. The society is not in so good a
Fames Osgood Andrew. 127

state as I wish to see. There is too much worldly
spirit among its members, and too much evil speaking
and tattling. Good Lord, appear for our help.

“ August 7, 1821.—I am still engaged trying to do
good; but, alas! how little it is that I do for God;
what small advancement have I made in knowledge,
in faith, in love. Oh, for a closer walk with God!
At night attended a prayer-meeting ; had rather a
sluggish time. Ihave been reading to-day ‘ Asbury’s
Journal’ and ‘ Harmer’s Observations.’

‘‘Brother Hodges arrived from the Burke camp-
meeting so much fatigued as to be unable to preach
well; I had to occupy the pulpit.

“ Thursday, 9th.—Still indisposed, yet I have
reason to be thankful, for God is good notwithstand-
ing all my unfaithfulness. Alas! how unfaithful and
how useless am I in the Church of God! Oh, for
more knowledge, holiness, and usefulness!”

So the young preacher wrote about himself. If he
had not been so faithful he would not have felt that he
was so unfaithful. It is only when men rise high
enough to see what is the highest that they realize how
far they are below it. ‘‘ Dissatisfaction,” says Vinet,
“fis the parent of progress ;” self-complacency is its
deadly foe. Although writing these honest things
against himself, he does not fail to add that ‘‘ God is
good.” He blesses still. He did not have time to
brood. When he felt like brooding he went out and
led a class-meeting,

He read ‘‘ The Conquest of Mexico.” He says of
the book: ‘‘I have been reading an account of the
conquest of Mexico by the ferocious Spaniard Cortez.
How completely does the love of money and the
128 The Life and Letters of

thirst for military glory obliterate from man all the
finer feelings of humanity and religion; and as we
read the history of the world, do we not see fresh
proofs that the march of justice, though slow, is cer-
tain? Let us look back a few centuries and witness
the cruelty of the Spaniard to the unoffending and
ignorant inhabitants of Mexico and Peru. Let us turn
our eyes, then, to the present state of South Amer-
ica. Let us see her once lovely plains stained with
constantly succeeding torrents of the blood of the de-
scendants of these same Spaniards. Surely there is a
God of Justice!” Rollin, Harmer, ‘‘ The History of
Peru and Mexico,” give us some little insight into the
character of his readings. He was never, perhaps,
what men call a careful student. He did not study
grammars, and lexicons, and treatises on logic or
physical science, nor was he, perhaps, a profound
theologian. He had little interest in the interminable
word-battles of schoolmen, but he studied books and
he studied men. When he read he philosophized.
Lycurgus and Cortez each gave him something for
present times—some great abstract truth that is as
true now as in those days, and of practical application.

He was not well, but he says: ‘In the afternoon
with much difficulty I met a class of women and we
had a comfortable time; my own soul felt something
of the Divine presence.

“ Friday.—My health is still poor, but I must ride
twelve miles to preach at the funeral of Miss Beall. I
spoke with great plainness and some liberty to an at-
tentive and serious congregation. Could there be
regular service in the neighborhood, I have little
doubt that there would be a good society raised.
Sames Osgood Andrew, 129

The harvest is great and the laborers are few. Oh!
for more faithful workmen to go into the destitute
places of the Lord’s vineyard. I1 hear they have
great prospects in Savannah. Glory to God that at
length he has visited that awfully wicked place with a
shower.” And so ends the old journal. Itis the only
one he ever kept. He probably made other entries
in this, for what remains is only the fragment of a
larger book. It reveals the steps by which the boy
* became a man.

He says of Augusta: ‘‘The subject of building a
new church was frequently agitated, but the move-
ment was tardy. The old people loved that ancient
temple. From its pulpit they had heard the Word of
God, which had proved to them the message of salva-
tion. Around its altar they and their children had
found the pearl of great price. There, too, they had
been wont to hold sweet communion with many who
had long since passed away to the home of God. With
so many hallowed associations clustering about them,
it is not strange that they revered the old house and
loved to linger about it in its hoary decrepitude.
Even those who desired anew church never dreamed
of anything beyond a good frame building. The idea
of a brick church never crossed our minds, for at that
time I don’t think we had a single brick Methodist
church. in all Georgia.

‘“« Several times during my two years’ residence in
Augusta I made excursions into the surrounding
country, attending camp and other meetings. I re-
collect one of these excursions with peculiar feelings
of gratitude. It was a visit to White Oak camp-meet-
ing, in Columbia County. The congregation was very

6*
130 The Life and Letters of

large, variously estimated at from five to ten thousand
persons. One day during the meeting it fell to my
lot to preach. The text was Revelations xx.: 12. The
theme, of course, was thé general judgment, and God
was with the preacher, and a solemn sense of his pres-
ence and majesty pervaded the vast concourse who
listened to the word preached. It was an awfully
glorious time. Scores rushed to the altar for prayers ;
many went stricken to their tents, and there sought
the aid and counsels of Christian friends; and not a‘
few sought retirement in the solitude of the forest,
‘that they might there alone wrestle with God for par-
doning grace. Shortly after the sermon was ended I
was requested to go to one of the tents to pray for a
lady in deep distress. This lady, Mrs. Barnes, had not
very long previously attached herself to the Church,
and thought that all was well, but during the sermon
she felt called on to examine herself in the light of the
revelations of the final judgment. The result was that
she became painfully convinced that she had not on
‘the wedding garment.’ She sought the Lord ear-
nestly and with many tears, and before the next morn-
ing God manifested himself graciously to her waiting,
agonizing spirit, and she was enabled to rejoice in a
precious sense of pardoning mercy. She lived many
years afterward a life of consistent and uniform piety,
and a few years since, after passing through leng and
sore affliction, died in great peace, and with triumph-
ant confidence and hope passed to the rest which re-
mains to the people of God. May her only surviving
child emulate her mother’s pious life, and rejoin her
ultimately in the mansions above.

“During the next day I was introduced to a
Fames Osgood Andrew. 131

strange gentleman, who requested me to walk with
him. When we reached the woods he addressed me
to the following purport: ‘I have been a very
wicked man, perhaps one of the worst you ever knew ;
indeed there is scarcely a single sin, except murder and
theft, which I have not committed. I have been very
often to meeting, and heard many preachers, but
nothing ever moved me until yesterday ; and I stood it
out pretty well until you brought me, with my family, to
the bar of God ; then I could stand it no longer. Iam
a miserable, wretched sinner, too bad, I am afraid, ever
to find mercy.’ I encouraged him and instructed him
as wellas I could. He sought the Lord diligently
during the residue of the meeting, but left the camp
with a burdened, agonized heart. One day, a week
or two afterward, he went into his stable to pray, and
while wrestling then and there, he obtained peace with
God. Many years after I met him at a camp-meeting
in the interior of the State. He was then a local
preacher in our Church. During the present summer
I met on the cars a highly respectable minister of the
Baptist Church. We entered into conversation in re-
ference to former days, and he alluded to the camp-
meeting and the sermon above mentioned as the place
and the instrumental cause of his awakening and con-
version to God.

‘‘But we must not dwell longer at this camp-meet-
ing, though it seemed a hallowed spot and a time of spe-
cial refreshing by the presence of God. We passed
a second pleasant year in Augusta. The people con-
tinued kind, and God gave us some tokens for good.
The Church was measurably prosperous. We had but
little local preacher-help in Augusta, so that the labor
132 The Life and Letters of

fell almost exclusively on myself; yet God sustained
me and preserved me and mine from disease and death,
although we were in the midst of both. And now my
second year came to a close, and, of course, I was to
be moved. I loved the people of my charge, and it
was painful to leave them; but then why should I be
distressed ? God is everywhere, and the hearts of all
men are in his hands.”

The reminiscences give, perhaps, the fullest account
extant of the last days of James Russell, who, take
him all in all, was, while not the greatest, certainly
the most remarkable man in Georgia Methodism. In
the history of Methodism in Georgia and Florida I
have tried to give a view of him from his entrance into
the ministry to his last days. To this sketch of him by
Bishop Andrew I was largely indebted, and am now
glad to give it entire:

‘During my stay in Augusta I had frequent op-
portunities of visiting a minister who once acted a
very prominent part in the movements of the Church,
especially in the older portions of the State. He had
been a very popular and useful preacher ; perhaps no
one in the ministry had wielded a more extensive in-
fluence in the great religious revivals which had spread
over upper Georgia in the days of my boyhood. He
was now wasted by disease, wrecked in fortune, dam-
aged in reputation, and was slowly sinking to the
grave, which a few months later afforded him a peace-
ful retreat from the tormenting anxieties and troubles
which for the closing years of his life had filled his cup
of bitterness full:to overflowing. Perhaps a brief no-
tice of him as I remember him in my boyhood, and
as I saw him in his latter days, may not be unaccept-
Fames Osgood Andrew. 133

able to those who may honor these sketches with a
perusal.

‘‘James Russell was born and reared, I think, in
one of the Carolinas ; of the precise locality I am not
informed. His origin, like that of many others who
have done the world good service, was very humble.
His earlier days were passed in extreme indigence
and obscurity. Soon after his conversion he felt
that he was called to the ministry, offered himself,
was accepted, and became a Methodist itinerant
preacher. But so defective had been his education
that he could scarcely read. He had, however, one
redeeming trait—if he was ignorant he knew it, and
was determined not to remain so. He felt the strug-
gling spirit within him and determined to fill up the
measure of his duty according to the measure of his
ability. Being aware of his ignorance, he resolved
to shake it off; he was, therefore, not ashamed to
seize every opportunity for improvement. He took
his spelling-book with him to his first circuit, and did
not scruple to seek instruction from any and every
source where he thought it could be obtained. He
was pious, devoted, zealous ; so that he soon became
acceptable and very useful.

‘‘T recollect with what feelings of awe and venera-

‘tion I first looked on him when I was a boy, residing
in old Broad River Circuit, in Elbert County. He
traveled, I believe, what was then called Little River
Circuit, which took in Oglethorpe County. In this
county was a considerable strip of country lying along
the Broad River, which was the dividing line between
Oglethorpe and Elbert. These lands were then fertile,
and occupied mainly by old Virginians—prosperous
134 The Life and Letters of

cotton planters, men remarkable for industry, enter-
prise; and honesty, but as a class very indifferent
to religion. Many of the leading men among them
were, in fact, tinctured with infidelity—rather an un-
promising field for a Methodist itinerant; and yet it
was among those people that Russell obtained his
most decided triumphs. His fame as a preacher had
preceded him, and curiosity attracted hundreds to at-
tend on his ministry. Those who heard once wished
to hear again. The Spirit of God sealed on many a
thoughtless heart the truths delivered by his servant.
Awakenings became general, and the welcome inquiry,
‘What shall I do to be saved ?’ greeted t the ears of God’s
minister in every direction. The revival was deep
and extensive ; hundreds were added to the church,
scores of whom have finished their course in peace,
and a large number of those who were the fruits of
that revival still live in various parts of the world, and
retain their zeal for God.

“James Russell was a very extraordinary man.
Commencing, as we have seen, without education, he
became in a few years a very powerful preacher ;
and although a critical hearer might detect in his ser-
mons proof of defective education, yet they were
creditable in point of style. He was not a profound
thinker, but he possessed a large fund of keen shrewd-
ness and tact. His sermons abounded greatly in
metaphor ; almost every point in his discourses was
illustrated by some appropriate and striking compari-
son; and these, not taken from classic usages, but
from the matters of every-day life, and urged home
upon heart and conscience with an earnestness and
power which T have rately; if ever, seen exemplified in
Fames Osgood Andrew. 135

any other man, made his discourses almost irresisti-
ble. From my recollection of him, he possessed the
power of persuasion beyond any preacher I ever heard.
One striking trait in his ministrations was his bold,
unfaltering confidence of success. He advanced to
the battle as though the shouts of victory were already
cheering him on to prompt and thorough triumph.
He seemed to feel that God sent him, was pledged to
sustain him, and would assuredly make good his word.
I recollect to have heard him say in one of his ad-
dresses, ‘ Brethren, I have no doubt that God will work
here to-night to the salvation of souls ; yea,’ said he, ‘I
have no doubt that God, as long as I am faithful, will
bless every exhortation and every sermon I may de-
liver.” May not much of his success be attributed to
’ this childlike, strong assurance that his Divine Lord
was with him in every effort which he made in that
Master’s name; may not the powerlessness of many
of our well-digested and highly intellectual discourses
now be the result of the want of this strong abiding
confidence that ‘I Am’ hath sent us, and is pledged to
be with us, not only occasionally, but always ? Oh that
the ministry of the Church were all on this vantage
ground! What power, what glorious success, would
crown the Church of God!

‘But I must bring this brief sketch to a close.
Some years after the time of which I have spoken, he
was stationed in Savannah, where the society was very
small and poor. This flock was unable to support
him, and he threw himself upon his own exertions, at
least measurably, for support. This was probably the
first step in that course of entanglement with worldly
traffic into which he plunged with eagerness, and
136 The Life and Letters of

which in a few years resulted in his utter ruin. He
failed to meet his engagements, and who ever did this
without having a full taste of the severity of a judg-.
ment without charity? When I saw him, he was
sinking to the grave. He talked freely of the past,
deplored his errors, and expressed a strong confidence
of his interest in the atoning blood. He left Augusta
for South Carolina, where he died in the house of an
old and attached friend, Dr. Moon. His sun shone
clear at its setting, and went down without a remain-
ing cloud. His name has come down to the present
race of Carolina and Georgia Methodists as one of
the most remarkable men of his time. His public ca-
reer is a study to the present ministry of the Southern
Church. Its many impressive points of incitement
and warning ought not to be Jost. It has been esti-
mated by those who were familiar with the facts, that
James Russell’s preaching was honored of God in be-
ing instrumental in the conversion of thousands. What
food for thought does this single statement furnish !
Many a preacher jogs on in the routine work of the
ministry without the cheering consciousness that a
half-dozen souls are converted to God by the preach-
ing of a whole year. Let such a man ask himself the
quéstion why there should be such an immense dis-
parity between the results of his ministry and those of
his predecessor, sketched in the foregoing paragraphs.
Let him make what abatements he will, on the score
of the brilliant genius, the native oratorical power,
the large faculty of illustration, the shrewd, common-
sense perception, the inimitable pathos of exhortation,
which distinguished Russell, there yet remains a vast
territory possessed in common with him by every
SFames Osgood Andrew, 137

God-commissioned minister of the Cross. The same
Gospel, the same Holy Spirit, the same fallen, alien-
ated human nature to be awakened and aroused; the
same heaven and hell from which moving considera-
tions are to be brought !

‘Perhaps it will be found that.one main point of
difference stands in the higher vigor, the more robust
strength of faith possessed by the ‘old man elo-
quent ;’ another, in the mighty, pleading, not-to-be-
resisted violence of believing prayer which charac-
terized his private habit of life, as well as his more
professional duties in the pulpit and prayer-meeting.
If his voice—the music of persuasion—his eloquence
trumpeted through the land by the clarion of fame,
attracted and fixed the gaze of crowds, the converting
power of his preaching did not stand in these accesso-
ries, but in the inculcation of truth—gospel truth—in-
tensely vivified to his own perceptions, and made
vital by his power with God, as a man of mighty
faith and prayer. And there, I have said, we occupy
what might be common ground, had we the same
pleading earnestness of spirit. The investiture of the
‘Spirit of power, and of love, and of a sound mind,’ is
the gift of God, bestowed in answer to prayer. Then
none of us need despair to obtain its largest measures.

“« The history of Russell presents us with the shadow
of a deep obscuration gathering upon the summer noon
ofa brilliant and well-won popularity. We trace this
to his locating and leaving the direct work of the min-
istry. How many similar cases has the history of the
itinerancy brought to light. The wrecks lie scattered
on the shore, a solemn warning against the easy aban-
donment of vows made at the altar of God.”
138 The Life and Letters of

The Conference was held in Augusta, and John
Howard, who was in Savannah, made an exchange
with the Augusta preacher, and Andrew was sent to
Savannah. Perhaps in.no city in the United States
did Methodism have a harder struggle for a good
footing than in Savannah; but after the struggle of
nearly twenty years, it was at last firmly established.
John Wesley, before he was a Methodist, had lived
there, and an unjust odium which clung to him had
been transferred to-his followers. The Episcopal
Church was largely Evangelical; Whitfield’s con-
stant ministry had supplied it with spiritual doctrine,
and strongly grounded it in Calvinism. The Presby-
terian element in the city was strong and wealthy.
The Lutheran was constantly aided from Germany
and the Saltzburg Colony, some twenty miles above.
McLeod, one of Hammett’s followers, had founded
an Independent Methodist Church, which had gone
down. Hope Hull had been driven away by the mob.
There had been faithful and apparently useless toil
for eight years, and three whites and four blacks con-
stituted the society. Thus itwasin 1815. Then came
Lewis Myers and James Russell, and a church, which
saved Savannah Methodism and ruined poor Russell.
After a time came Henry Bass, who was astonishingly
successful. He built a parsonage, and William Capers
paid for it the next year with money collected from
South Carolina.

While he was here the church was filled with the
élite of the city, and when John Howard came, with
his handsome person, his fine cultivation, his sweet
voice, and his fervid eloquence, a gracious revival
came with him, and now that he was needed in Au-
Fames Osgood Andrew. 139

gusta, James O. Andrew took his place in Savannah.
He tells his own story better than we can.

‘The Conference held its session that year in Au-
gusta, so that I was saved the trouble of leaving
home till I started for my next year’s appointment.
The Conference, so far as I recollect, was a pleasant
one, without any extraordinary occurrence to distin-
guish it. I was appointed to Savannah for the year
1822, to succeed John Howard, who was my suc-
cessor in Augusta; so, as soon after Conference as
convenient, I took my family on board a steamer
and dropped down to Savannah, which we reached
safely and in due time. My family now consisted of
my wife and three children, God having blessed us
with a third sweet little daughter, my dear Sarah, dur-
ing our residence in Augusta.

«« Savannah, at the time of which I write, although
the chief city of the State, and its only important sea-
port, was quite limited both in the extent of its boun-
daries and the number of its population. Railroad
enterprise has since wrought the most astonishing
changes. We occupied the parsonage house, or
rather one-half of it, the other half having been
rented out to help the Church to pay expenses, al-
though the whole house was none too large to have
made my family comfortable ; still we were very well
satisfied, especially as we had a most excellent neigh-
bor in the adjoining tenement.

‘The parsonage stood on what was then known
as South Common, and we were almost on the outer
verge of city population, there being only a few scat-
tering houses beyond us. The plain church, which,
with much patient toil, our pioneers of blessed mem-
140 The Life and Letters of

ory had reared for God and Methodism in Savannah,
was near by. It was small at first, but had received
considerable additions through the labor of my inde-
fatigable and popular predecessor. We had, besides, a
small chapel in the upper portion of the city, called
Spring Hill Chapel. It was a very humble taber-
nacle, but we used to enjoy some precious seasons in
love-feasts and prayer-meetings in that old edifice.

“In addition to the work of the city proper we
established an appointment at Goshen, some twelve
miles above Savannah, near the road leading to Au-
gusta; here we preached regularly. We also raised
a small society of excellent members, and mainly
through the instrumentality of my colleague, George
White, instituted a Sunday-school, which, though not
very large, yet became an instrument of considerable
good.

‘‘T found the charge in a prosperous condition.
Under the labors of Brother Howard the Church had
been blessed with a gracious revival of religion, which
had gathered a goodly number into the fold. As
is always the case after such revivals, there had been
a good deal of sifting, and many who ran well fora
season fainted by the way; but a large number still
remained faithful to their vows and became steadfast
and exemplary followers of the Lord Jesus, some of
whom are yet at their posts in the house of God,
but many of them have crossed the flood, and are,
we trust, rejoicing in the kingdom of God. The
Church continued to prosper in some good measure
during the year. There was often manifest in the ,
congregation a good deal of religious interest, and
we have reason to believe that a considerable number
SFames Osgood Andrew. 141

was added to the Lord. The people showed me
great kindness, and I sadly needed it, for I was
called during the year to wade through deep and
long-continued family afflictions. First, my wife’s
brother came down from Augusta sick, and remained
for a length of time at the parsonage extremely ill.
Then my two sweet little girls, Elizabeth’ and Mary,
were taken ill of fever, and I was long doubtful which
would first die. Finally it pleased God to renrove
my precious, gentle Mary to the better land. I wit-
nessed her death-struggle, and heard her lisp my
name as her last utterance on earth. I followed her
to her resting-place in the old graveyard, and ex-
pected that I should have, by the next day, to bear my
other sweet lamb to the same quiet spot ; but it pleased
God to turn away that bitter cup. The very day that
Mary died we found that Elizabeth was salivated ; the
fever yielded, but left her in a most distressing con-
dition. For weeks she required the most assiduous
attention. She used to lie in bed and pull out her
teeth and pieces of her jaw-bone; indeed, the doctor
removed, at different times, the whole of the latter.
We were greatly grieved, but the doctor thought that,
as she was young, another bone would form, and so it
turned out; and she yet lives to bless her father and
her own children.

‘‘But our cup was not yet full. I was myself taken
down with fever, which confined me for weeks from
the services of the ministry. Oh, heavily did the
hours, especially those of the holy Sabbath, pass
away, as I lay there in my sick chamber and looked

 

1 Mrs, Dr. Lovett, who died in 1856.
142 The Life and Letters of

out on the Common and saw crowds of people prepar-
ing for church. There were my people going to the
house of God, while their pastor lay on his bed, dumb
and good for nothing. It was a sore struggle, but it
was well; God was teaching me to bear and suffer—a
much more difficult lesson than that of active doing,
and yet it is one equally important for all Christians,
and especially Christian ministers. In that sick cham-
ber.I had leisure to review my life and analyze the mo-
tives of my conduct. I saw things then in the light of
eternity. It was a close, a searching catechism ; but
it did me-good. My weaknesses, my imperfections,
stood out honestly before me, and I resolved, by
God’s grace, to do better and to preach better.. Do
you ask how I have kept my vow? Ican only say,
T have tried. God only knows how I have succeeded.
At length the fever yielded, and I was pronounced
convalescent, but then I was wretchedly salivated.”

During the year 1822 he wrote two letters, which
have been preserved, to his parents, the first of which
was written in April.

To JOHN ANDREW.
‘SAVANNAH, April 29, 1822.
“My DEAR PARENTS:

“« After having long and anxiously looked for a let-
ter from you which might tell me whether you still ©
lived and whether you were doing well, and after
having written once and waited patiently for weeks
without receiving a single scratch in answer thereto,
I once more take up my pen to address you. My
family has been severely afflicted for some weeks
past with whooping-cough and then with measles.
Yames Osgood Andrew. 143

I thought once that some of the children would have
been taken from us, but, thanks to gracious Provi-
dence, they have all been spared, and we are now
doing well, and are very well satisfied with Savannah
so far. I have been received with kindness, and I
am not without hope that we shall be favored with
a gracious visitation from above. My colleague is
an intelligent and promising young man, and matters
move on pretty well. I suppose you heard from
me through the medium of Brother Stone, of this
city, who has been in the neighborhood of Salem. I
need not tell you that I most ardently long to hear
from you, and to know how you like your new resi-
dence, and what is the prospect for a school, and so
on. I hope you will be pleased, and that you have a
more peaceful retreat than you occupied lately. I be-
lieve it will prove healthy, and I hope, in other respects,
comfortable. I sometimes think of the little place,
and if I were to consult my inclination, I should build a
cabin near you and spend the balance of my days en-
deavoring to comfert you in your old age; but the
voice of imperious duty calls me elsewhere, and I
must obey and leave my beloved parents in the gra-
cious hands of the-good Saviour who has redeemed
me and blessed me all my life long. Amelia unites
with me in love to you all.
“* Affectionately,
“JAMES O. ANDREW.”

‘* SavANNAH, November 6, 1822.

“My DEAR FATHER:

‘Your letter by Mr. Trammell was received. It
afforded me much pleasure to hear of your health
144 The Life and Letters of

and that of the family. I can rejoice to hear that
you all are contented and happy. I trust I am still
on my way to a heavenly county, where affliction
comes no more. As to ourselves, we have been
sorely visited of our God. We have followed our be-
loved little Mary to the grave; our dear Elizabeth has
been very sick for eight or nine weeks. She has lost
part of her gums, and her mouth is still very sore.
Her health is, I think, improving.. Rather more than
three weeks since I was taken with bilious fever. For
two weeks I was confined to my bed with it: Since
that time I have suffered much from sore mouth, in
consequence of salivation. JI am now, however,
through the mercy of God, gradually recovering,
but I fear it will be some time before I am able to
take the pulpit. But for my extreme debility, I
should have visited you about this time; but I am
unable to come, and I think it doubtful whether I
shall be able, in justice to my station, to visit you
before March. However, I shall write you more
particularly when I examine into the state of the
Church.

“T send you inclosed $200. You will please take
up my note to Smith about the land—$190. The $10
you will appropriate to your own use. You say you
will have to purchase provisions. You can purchase
to the amount of $30, and I will be answerable for
that sum when I come up. And now I must close.
I am warned by my feelings that my strength is small,
Give my love to all and believe me,

“Yours affectionately,
“JAMES O. ANDREW.”
Fames Osgood Andrew. 145

From HIS WIFE,

“My DEAR SISTER:

‘““T hope father will excuse the liberty I take in
‘using part of his letter to scratch you a hasty line,
and assure you that it has not been want of inclination
but opportunity which has prevented my writing you
for so long a time. Indeed, this year I have been
peculiarly situated. One source of affliction has suc-
ceeded another, until sometimes I have been almost
ready to sink, but the Lord has supported me wonder-
fully ; and, oh, the kindness of the people! Language
can never express the thousandth part of it; but it is
deeply engraven upon my heart, and draws tears of
gratitude from my eyes. I rejoice to learn that the
family has been blessed with health this year, and
that some of them have recently embarked in the
service of God. Oh! that every member of the fam-
ily may be found in the bundle of life. It is with
pleasure I inform you that Mr. Robarts and sister have
both joined our society. We hear from them now
and then. John Robarts is at this time in Savannah,
and I expect will write by this opportunity. Another
thing—make haste and write me that you and Caro-
line are both well married ; that will, indeed, give me
pleasure. I expect Mr. Andrew and myself will sail
to-morrow for Charleston, in hope of recruiting both
his and Elizabeth’s health. Present my tenderest af-
fections to my dear parents and family. My love to
Mr. and Mrs. Harris. I long to see you all, and be-
lieve me, dear Lucy,

‘“* Your affectionate sister,
‘“ ANNE AMELIA ANDREW.”
146 The Life and Letters of

John Andrew, near sixty-five when he read these
letters, might justly feel that his life had not been in
_ vain; and as Mary Cosby, with tearful eyes, read the
lines from her feeble James, just from death’s door,
and heard him say how gladly he would build his
cabin near hers, that he might minister to her, but
that duty, stern duty, held him back, she might well
thank God that ten years previously she had packed his
saddle-bags, given him her blessing, and said ‘‘ Go.”
Out of his not liberal pay, with sickness and death
to meet, he had not failed to lay up enough to buy
a little home for the dear old people, and send them
money to buy provisions. No wonder they laid these
precious letters away. Grand as the man was, he
never was grander than when he penned this letter
with nervous hand that November morning, and sent
the $200 to John Andrew by Mr. Trammell.

The reminiscences say again:

“And now at length my family was free from dis-
ease, and the lamps of the watchers of the sick went
out in our house at night, which had not been the case
for months. We had passed through a long and dark
and sorrowful night of suffering ; yet God had been
gracious in the midst of all. First, he had graciously
sustained my excellent wife; her health had been
wonderfully preserved, so that she was able to bear
the heavy burdens which were laid upon her without
faltering. In the second place, we were among a
people who showed us every kindness. Every night,
for months, we needed friends to watch by the
couches of the sick, and yet there was never any lack.
Not only did my own flock show us all manner of
kindness, but the citizens generally, without distinc-
Yames Osgood Andrew. 147

tion of sect or party, expressed their sympathy for us
by acts of substantial kindness. Surely I ought never
to forget the kindness of the good people of Savan-
nah, and I never will. God reward them all abun-
dantly. Many of those who showed us great kindness
are not onearth; a goodly number, however, still
remain.

“As soon as my health would permit it, my wife
took our little daughter to Charleston, that she might
avail of the skill of hcr mother’s family physician,
Dr. S., whose kind attention resulted in restoring her
mouth to health. As she remained there several
weeks, I concluded to visit her ; and for this purpose
embarked on board a sloop bound for Charleston,
loaded mostly with hay. One night, during the trip,
I got up at a late hour and sauntered to the deck. I
lay down on a bundle of hay, and while in that posi-
tion the sloop’s large boom came sweeping suddenly ~
across. I discovered it too late to escape. I grasped
the bundle of hay as closely as possible, and the boom
scraped me so closely as to give me some pain. One
inch more and I had been swept into the sea, with
scarcely a possibility of deliverance. Nor should I
have been missed, as the pagsengers were all asleep,
and I think at the moment there was not another soul
on the deck except the man at the helm. When the
danger was past, and I reflected on it, I almost trem-
bled at the thought of what I had just escaped, and
lifted up my heart in thanksgiving to God for his
ever watchful providence which had been over me.

“A fter remaining in Charleston a few days, I returned
to Savannah with my family, and attempted to resume
my labors ; but I was very feeble, and so continued
148 The Life and Letters of

through the remainder of the year. I could preach
but little, and many of the brethren persuaded me to
leave the station and travel for my health; and my
worthy Presiding Elder, the Rev. Lewis Myers, told
me, in view of my feeble health, he would cheerfully
release me from the labor of the station. ‘I will
gladly do it,’ said I, ‘if you can furnish a pastor for
my people.” ‘That,’ he replied, ‘I cannot do.’
‘Then,’ said I, ‘I shall continue at my post, and
trust to God the issue.” SoI did remain at my post
and God sustained me.

“And now the first year in Savannah was drawing
to a close. The Conference was held in Savannah,
Bishop Roberts presiding. I recollect nothing very
special connected with this session, except that it was
the occasion on which I first ventured to make a speech
in the Annual Conference, of five minutes’ length. I
had frequently before felt the spirit of speaking, pretty
strongly upon me, but up to this time I had always
resisted it. I listened to the old and wise men, and
feared to measure myself with them; and as to the
second and third rate men, some of whom were up and
spouting on all occasions, these. rather disgusted me,
so that I held my peace. But during this session
some subject of discussion arose in which I felt a good
deal of interest, and with a sort of desperate effort I
brought myself up to the sticking point, and ventured
a speech of several minutes’ duration. The spell was
now broken, and I am not very sure that the Conference
had not subsequently occasion to regret it. How-
ever, I believe I must venture to say, in my own de-
fense, that my speeches were never very long ; but as
to the amount of sense which they contained depo-
Fames Osgood Andrew. 149

nent saith not. I could never, however, to the last
muster courage to make a five-minutes’ speech in the
General Conference, albeit I used to think I could
beat some of those men who were always ready to
give us their gt on every subject.

“‘During the Conference Bishop Roberts lodged at
the parsonage, which gave me the opportunity of be-
coming more particularly acquainted with him. The
impression which the Bishop made on my mind when
I first saw him several years before at Augusta was
highly favorable; but then I only knew him in the
Conference room ; now I had the privilege of know-
ing him in the private circle, in the social intercourse
of the family fireside, and it was just the position in
which one should know him in order to appreciate him
properly. I had honored him before, but after this
I loved him as a brother, or rather as a father, in
Christ. Bishop Roberts was a lovely man in every
aspect of his character: as a Christian, deeply expe-
rienced in the things of God, warm and fervent, yet
thoroughly scriptural in all his views, with nothing of
wildness or undue enthusiasm about him. -I should
judge that he had but very little sympathy with some
of those very marvelous experiences which used to
occur rather more frequently than they do now. Dur-
ing the Conference, at one of our services in the
church a lady arose to tell her experience, though it
was not alove-feast. Her history abounded in strange
and marvelous events. Among other wonderful things
she stated that during her conviction, so intense
was her agony that she became just as cold as she
would be if she-were dead. To this statement the
Bishop, demurred very strongly ; and I found that
150 The Life and Letters of

the good lady’s experience was not at all to his
taste.

** All who knew Bishop Roberts will recollect that
he was amost delightful singer. His voice, even
down to the close of his life, possessed uncommon
compass and sweetness.- Yet, although he sung a
great deal, even in private, I don’t remember ever to
have heard him sing any of those miserable dog-
gerel ditties which so often desecrate our social and
camp-meeting altars. The fine hymns of our hymn-
book furnished him with an inexhaustible store of |
songs in which to celebrate the riches of the grace of
God without outraging good Christian taste and
sound sense. I recollect that during the Conference
the Bishop was very much annoyed by a good sister
from the country, who seemed remarkably in love
with her own musical powers, and who was ready, in
and out of season, to edify us with a song; but, unfor-
tunately for the comfort of many of us, and especially
the Bishop, she gave us a doggerel production, which
was not very uncommon in those days, the chorus of
which was, ‘ And a-begging I will go, I’ll-go, I’ll go.’
This superfine production, put up to the highest notes,
in a voice not the sweetest, greatly annoyed our good
old friend.

“The Conference closed, and I was reappointed to
Savannah, and it was pleasant to know that the ap--
pointment was in accordance with the wishes of the
people. I passed a second agreeable year among my
flock, whose affectionate attentions to my comfort
suffered no diminution. The Church enjoyed some
good measure of prosperity, and we had great peace
in our borders. My health was restored, so that I was
Fames Osgood Andrew. I5I

enabled to perform all my duties, and toward the close
of the year the Lord gave us another child in place of
our sweet little Mary, whom he had taken to himself
the previous year. My dear Henrietta’ still lives to
bless her father and her own household. During this
year my family enjoyed very good health, with the
exception of my colleague, the Rev, Edward Fitz-
gerald, an amiable, excellent young man, intelligent
and devoted; but he early gave signs of mental ali-
enation. It was a most distressing and perplexing
case. He was perfectly wretched, and seemed only to
have even a temporary suspension of his wretchedness
while engaged in conversation with either my wife or
myself. He maintained that he was lost, and there
was no salvation for him. When I'urged upon him
the scriptural view of the atonement as designed and
sufficient for all, he maintained that it was all true in
reference to everybody but himself, but that he was
an exception to the general arrangements of God’s re-
covering mercy, and that his damnation was, by some
mysterious process of the Divine will, essentially con-
nected with the salvation of the rest of the world.
He was at length removed by the Presiding Elder,
and returned to his friends in North Carolina, where
he recovered his right mind, and married a most ami-
able and interesting woman. I met him many years
after in’Grenada, Miss. -He was comfortably settled,
happy in his family, and appeared to be devotedly
pious. His removal left me a heavy burden to bear ;
but God sustained me and I was able to accomplish it.

He was now, after eight years of work on stations,

 

1 Mrs, Meriwether, who died in 1862.
152 The Life and Letters of

to change his field, and was sent to the Charleston
District. He says:

“ My second year in Savannah closed, and I had to
leave a large circle of endeared friends and seek for
home and work in other portions of the Lord’s vine-
yard. The Conference was to meet in Charleston, and
thither I repaired with my family. But before I take
my final leave of Savannah, I must be indulged in pay-
ing some tribute to the character of one who, after’
serving the Church for a great many years, has, within
the last few years, been removed from the cares and
labors of earth.

“The Rev. Lewis Myers was born and reared, I be-
lieve, in the neighborhood of Indian Fields, S.C. He
was of German parentage, and being, in early life, left
an orphan, was indebted to the fostering care of a rel-
ative for his early training. He was, from his boyhood,
remarkable for his sobriety of behavior; insomuch
that when at school he was known among all his young
associates by the title of Old Lewis. Of any further
facts connected with his early history we are ignorant,
except that before he entered the ministry he con-
trived, by his own industry, to acquire the means for
obtaining at least a tolerable education. He was for
some time in aschool in Wilkes. The principal teach-
er was a Mr. Posey, though, I believe, it was regarded
as being under the supervision of the Rev. Hope Hull.
After leaving this institution he entered the itinerancy
of the Methodist Episcopal Church, with which he re-
mained connected to the day of his death. Few men
of the former generation of Methodist preachers com-
manded a larger share of the confidence of the Church
than Lewis Myers. This was not the result of brill-
Fames Osgood Andrew. 153

iant talents or great eloquence, for he possessed neith-
er. It was the silent homage paid by the multitude
to a life of pure and well-tried integrity.

‘My earliest recollections of the South Carolina
Conference were associated with the name and looks
and speeches of Lewis Myers. I recollect to have
looked upon him with a kind of dread; and such, I
believe, was the feeling generally entertained toward
him by the young men who were just entering the
Conference. He seemed to be regarded, by common
consent, as asentinel upon the watch-tower, to lift up
a note of warning against the approach of any innova-
tions upon the ancient peculiarities of Methodism.
Woe to the young preacher who had married too soon,
or who had failed to ask advice from his older brethren
before he even entered upon his courting expedition.
And then there was that catechism about early rising,
of which it might, perhaps, be well to issue a new edi-
tion; and the sifting of the subject of slavery, for every
preacher in those days had to undergo a drilling on
that subject. The preacher had to answer whether he
was sound on that point. This frequently brought about
a strange state of things. Sometimes the preacher be-
fore us was the son of an extensive slave-holder, and
must, of course, anticipate the ownership of no small
share of this species of property ; or, possibly, he had
just married a lady vwning a large number of them, and
how could he answer the question ? This difficulty could
only be gotten over by a nice distinction. The candi-
date was opposed to the spirit of the thing, though he
was then, and always expected to be, in the practice.
This always struck some of us as a thing of bad ten-
dency. It presented a strong temptation to dishonesty

7* :
154 The Life and Letters of

of speech, and was very near akin to that other still
more ancient usage, which required the preachers, if
not the members, too, who were slave-holders, to give
a bond to emancipate them at a certain age. A good
many of these bonds were given to Asbury ; whether
they ever led to the freedom of many slaves is ques-
tionable, and whether the few who may, by this means,
have secured nominal freedom had gained any. real
boon is still more doubtful.

‘« Such, however, were the miserable shifts to which
the ministers of our Church have been driven to carry
out a system of ecclesiastical legislation which had for
its basis neither the Bible nor common sense; which
has produced nothing but evil from the time of its
first inception ; and which still continues all along the
border to give rise to a system of Jesuitical jugglery
and management which enables a man to be dreadfully
opposed to the sum of all villainies and yet to com-
fortably pocket the procegds of the labor of his wife’s
slaves. Or when slaves would come to him by inherit-
ance, instead of receiving and freeing them, he re-
pudiates the great evil and receives his portion of the
estate in other property, and leaves all the negroes to
be divided to those -who are willing to take them.
Finally my old friend gave up the struggle upon both
of these points, as he found his efforts proved unavail-
ing. The preachers would marry according to their '
own inclination and judgment, and the questions on
the subject of slavery became a dead letter; for, when
Brother Myers abandoned his post of observation,
none was found to succeed him. After a while, greatly
to the surprise of us all, it was announced that Brother
Myers was married / and, certainly, no man ever had
SFames Osgood Andrew. 155

a better right, for he had lived a bachelor a great
while, had drained the cup of single blessedness to the
dregs, and was fairly entitled to try the sweets of do-
mestic felicity. Another important change occurred
in-his views—he bought a few slaves and settled down
as a farmer in Effingham County, a few miles from
Savannah. :

‘Brother Myers traveled several years after his mar-
riage; then took a superannuated relation to the Con-
ference, and purchased a pleasant little farm in Effing-
ham County, Ga., where he spent the remainder of
his days, an example of industry and economy. For
several years before his death his mental as well as
his physical strength failed him, till at length he
seemed to be almost unconscious upon every subject
except religion, and in this condition he gently went
to the tomb. Lewis Myers was almost unique in his
style of preaching; he was deeply read in the Scrip-
tures and in the theological works of our Church. His
theology was thoroughly Wesleyan; his preaching
was sententious and pointed; and he spoke almost as
much by the motion of his head and hands as with his
tongue. To me he was always an instructive and
interesting preacher. Lewis Myers was a great
economist of time, and was, I believe, through life,
one of the old four-o’clock school of Methodist
preachérs, and when he was up he was always busy.
He was also a great economist of money, wasting
nothing, and turning everything to the best account,
so that when he retired from his active ministry he
had enough to settle his family comfortably. Yet,
with all this economy, he was not penurious; he had
a kind heart and was ever ready to give to and in
156 The Life and Letters of

every worthy cause. He loved the Church with a
most fervent affection, and saw, with pain, every in-
dication of departure from what he regarded as the
principles and landmarks which had so efficiently
contributed to the success of early Methodism. Espe-
cially was he zealous for the perpetuity of the itinerant
system and the purity and zeal of the preachers.
Few who attended the sessions of the Georgia Con-
ference during his last visits can have forgotten his
affectionate and characteristic warnings to his breth-
ren. A few months subsequent to his death, I re-
ceived from his executors his large old silver watch,
with a note to this purport: ‘I give this watch to
James O. Andrew as a token of my regard for Meth-
odist itinerancy.’”
Fames Osgood Andrew. 157

CHAPTER IV.
DISTRICT WORK AND CHARLESTON STATION.

1824-1828.

Charleston again.— The Charleston District.— Stephen Olin.—Samuel
Dunwody.—General Conference of 1824.—The Charleston Station. —
Yellow Fever.—Death of Asbury Morgan.—Letters.—Appointed to
Greensboro and Athens. i

ITH his last year in Savannah he had completed

his tenth year in the ministry. He had, during

that time, been on circuits and stations both as junior

preacher and preacher in charge in the counties and

in the cities, and in three States. He was now to try

another and a harder field. Hewas to be the Presid-
ing Elder of a large and important district,

Of all the hard work of those times the Presiding
Elder’s work was the hardest. His district was gener-
ally very large—as large often as a modern Conference.
There were no railways nor telegraphs, and when he
left home he expected to be gone for six weeks, and
during that time he had but little hope of heaving from
home at all. He was to be evangelist, judge of law,
superintendent of the flock, and to look after the tem-
poral as well as the spiritual interests of his district.

The Bishop came to the Annual Conference, pre-
sided over it for a week, and was gone. He was not
to be reached by telegraph or quick mail. The preacher
158 The Life and Letters of

and layman looked, therefore, to the Elder, who
filled his place in the interim. The office, though one
of great responsibility, was one of iiee opportunities
for usefulness.

The people expected a great deal atk the Elder
came. The quarterly meeting did not come often to
the same church, and its coming was known long be-
forehand. For months the neighbors were looking
‘toward it. From twenty-eight churches the officials
gathered—there were not less than fifty of them in all.
They were nearly all of them in those days dressed
alike ; for a local preacher, especially, not to wear a
broad-brimmed hat, or a straight-breasted coat, would
have been as if a general had gone on parade without
his stars. A grave, sedate body was the Quarterly
Conference then.

“Are there any complaints ?”’ was a serious ques-
tion, and not rarely the young preacher found him-
self arraigned for some deviation from old-time rules.
He slept too late; he did not preach on dress, or he
wore suspenders. The first Quarterly Conference
grappled with the question, ‘ What shall be allowed
for the family expenses of the preacher in charge?”
A Provision Committee, as it was called, laboriously
considered the question as to how much flour and
meal and bacon the preacher’s family needed, and
what it would cost; and then came the inquiry,
“‘How much has been collected, and how has it been
applied ?”” Sad, oftentimes, was the response. The
Presiding Elder’s righteous soul was stirred within
him, and in no gentle terms did he rebuke the officials
who had, they thought, been trying to get the people
to give, and who deplored the fact that the report was
Fames Osgood Andrew. 159

so small; and so the work went on. No short, half-
hour session then after sermon, but an evening of real
labor.

This was the work of Saturday afternoon. The El-
der had preached in the morning, and now they all
went to the country’houses round about to get ready
for the Sunday services.

Sunday was the great day of the quarterly meet-
ing. Early in the morning the Methodist families
for miles around were astir before daylight, so as to
get to church to the love-feast at nine o’clock, at
which hour the Presiding Elder was in his chair,
the opening services were then had, and the door was
closed. The love-feast now fairly began. The little
worry of yesterday was over now, and as the warm,
tearful, perhaps happy experiences were told, there
were oftentimes rapturous shouts, tender confessions,
and renewed vows. The hour and a half was soon
gone, and after a brief interval, everybody that could
get in, crowded into the little church to hear the Elder

_preach and receive the sacrament.

If the Elder had liberty, as he generally did, there ,
was a time of great joy. He usually preached asermon
of considerable length. The people had come a long
way to hear him, and’ he condensed into one sermon
the substance of three or four city discourses. He did
not often fail to stir the multitude, and when the Lord’s
Supper came on it was indeed a time of feasting.

The camp-meetings were great occasions then,
and the Presiding Elder was in his glory there. He
was the general-in-chief. James O. Andrew was a
grand camp-meeting preacher, and many were the
sinners awakened and converted under his ministry.
160 The Life and Letters of

The trying work, however, of the Presiding Elder
was to provide preachers for the circuits and stations.
Now the question is how shall we provide places for
men ; then it was how shall we provide men for the
places. The laborers were few; the work hard; the
pay small ; no parsonages; no public modes of travel ;
the Bishop was nominally the appointing officer, but
the Presiding Elder had almost the entire responsi-
bility.

The district was a large one and a very important
one. It extended: from a few miles below Columbia,
S. C., to Charleston, and then-to Savannah, embracing
all of lower South Carolina and Georgia, and the
whole of it was to be traveled on horseback or on
wheels. There was a part of it where he would be
exposed to much danger from malaria. The demands
upon him were great, indeed, and how could he live on
his small salary? How, even with a house, could he
support a family in Charleston on $500a year? He
could not do it; of course he could not; but the
sweet woman who had given him her all eight.
years before was his stay, and her busy fingers ‘kept
the table supplied and the little ones clad, and he
wenton his way. Oh! Brother Myers! Brother My-
ers! what say you now? Was James Andrew so far
wrong after all ?

This time of 1824 was in the second era of Meth-
odism in South Carolina. The last of the pioneers
was gone. The race who came now found Meth-
odism. The acorn had been planted, the tree was
growing; but it is sometimes more difficult, and it
certainly is as important, to train as it is to plant,
and the preachers and Presiding Elder had no easy
Fames Osgood Andrew. 161

task. Samuel K. Hodges was establishing the lines
in the new country of Georgia; Andrew Hammill
was in the swamps and wire-grass; Lewis Myers in
the old section of middle Georgia ; Henry Bass in the
up-country of South Carolina; William M. Kennedy
in the east of both Carolinas ; Daniel Christenbury in
the mountains; and James O. Andrew among the
swamps.

K The preachers in his district were no ordinary men.
His own graphic pen has pictured some of them. The
foremost figure of them all is Stephen Olin. A young
Vermonter coming South—a skeptic, of pure morals,
of studious habits, but of godless heart—he was won-
derfully converted, and had given himself to a minis-
try for which he was so highly gifted, but to which,
at one time, there seemed so little probability of his
devoting himself. He was stationed in Charleston,
and was an inmate of the home of the Presiding Elder.
There was much to draw them together; there was
nothing to drive them apart, and there never has been
a more touching friendship than that which existed
between them for over thirty years. Toward James,
as he called him, and the dear wife who was as a
sister to him, there burned in the great heart of the
Vermonter a love as deep and true as that great heart
could feel. To the day of Olin’s death letters passed
constantly between them, and though our story will tell
of a painful episode in this friendship, there never was
the interruption of a twelvemonth in.their brotherly
intercourse. Andrew’s admiration for Olin, an admi-
ration expressed in the sketch which follows, was only
equalled by Olin’s admiration for Andrew. They
were very near the same age. Olin was a stranger in
162 The Life and Letters of

Charleston and an inmate of Andrew’s home. The
little children were his pets, the noble wife his friend
and confidant. But we turn to the reminiscences:

‘‘This Conference was held in Charleston; Bishop
George presided. At its close my name was an-
nounced as Presiding Elder of the Edisto District,
which at that time included Charleston, Cooper River,
Cypress, Orangeburg, Black Swamp, and my old cir-
cuit, Salt Ketcher—though I think it had taken another
name. And then there was the Congareé Circuit, near
Columbia; and below that we formed, I think, about
this time, another circuit called Hollow Creek; and
besides these we crossed over and took in Savannah.
Here was work enough to keep me busy. A dis-
trict parsonage had been built, but there was no
furniture in it, and I had no money to buy any.
So I borrowed $100 from Duke Goodman; and
I take occasion just here to remark, that up to this
time I had always been able to make both ends of
the year meet. I do not remember that I ever left
a station without paying up all my debts; but from
the day that I borrowed that hundred dollars I don’t
think I have ever been entirely out of debt. I did
not, however, go to the district parsonage. At the
invitation of the Charleston Station I occupied the
Bethel parsonage that year, and the two subsequent
years I rented a house in a more eligible portion of
the city. The little old district parsonage was subse-
quently sold, and a more suitable lot and house was
procured.

‘Among the preachers stationed in the city this
year was Joseph Galluchat and Stephen Olin. Brother
Galluchat was able to perform but little labor, being
Fames Osgood Andrew. 163

far gone in consumption ; and the latter, though ap-
parently a stout man, failed in half the year, and had
to leave the station and travel for his health. He re-
turned to his station in the autumn, but was unable to
render much efficient service afterward. This was my
first acquaintance with this eminent man; and I had
subsequently ample opportunity to know him inti-
mately. He resided in my family for several months,
and used sometimes to take his horse and travel partly
round my district with me. After he left the South
we were in the habit of regular correspondence,
which was in its character most full, free, and unre-
served ; and now that God has removed him to his
better rest, I may speak of him freely. In his reli-
gious intercourse and experience he was frank and
cheerful, confiding and childlike. In his early man-
hood an infidel, God had been pleased, in a strange
manner, to bring him ‘to a knowledge of the truth.
His conversion was thorough; the rebellion of his
heart, his pride of intellect, were entirely subdued ;
and he embraced the truth as it is in Jesus with all the
strength of his mind and heart. The great doctrines,
the atonement and intercession of Christ, which had
formerly perplexed him, he now embraced as the only
truths which could meet the necessities of his nature ;
hence he clung to them with all the ardor of his soul ;
and often in his hours of disease and loneliness have I
seen him kindle into joyous exultation, while he re-
ferred to these glorious doctrines as the source of his
richest ‘comforts.

“T recollect once to have heard him, at a time when
he could scarcely leave his room, and all before him
seemed dark and cheerless, refer, in the language of
164 The Life and Letters of

confidence and triumph, to those words of St. Paul:
“For if when we were enemies we were reconciled to
God by the death of his Son, much more being recon-
ciled we shall be saved by is life.’ ‘ There,’ said he,
‘is my ground of comfort and support; Jesus saved
me when I was an enemy, and now that I am his
child he will not forget me, for he dives.’! With
these views and experiences, it will not be surprising
to those who used to wait on his ministry, that he
dwelt so frequeftly and so earnestly on these glorious
verities of Christianity.

‘* He had entered the itinerancy of our Church with
an all-pervading desire to give his strength and life to
the work of preaching that Saviour whom once he
denied ; but, strangely as it appeared to us, God in
his providence seemed to lay astern interdict upon
him in reference to this very thing, which he was so
earnestly desirous to accomplish, and which every-
body judged he was so pre-eminently qualified to
do with ability and success. He was rarely able to
preach more than a few sermons successively before
he was prostrate, and unable, perhaps for a long time,
even to pray in the family; yet, amidst all these dis-
couraging circumstances, the strong wish and hope
that he might yet see the day when, in God’s provi-
dential dispensations, he would be able to spend and
be spent in the work of the ministry, never left him.
‘Oh,’ he would often say, ‘how gladly would I take
the poorest circuit in the Conference if I only had
health, rather than accept the proudest office which
could be conferred upon me.’ Yet God, who knew

 

1 This very passage was read to Bishop Andrew on his death-bed.
Fames Osgood Andrew. 165

him best, and who knew what was best for the Church,
saw fit to thwart his cherished wishes, and preferred
to prepare him for heaven rather in the crucible of
suffering than in the field of free and unfettered ac-
tion.

“T recollect once, while we were traveling together, I
suggested to him that as there seemed but little prob-
ability of his ever being able to serve the Church effi-
ciently as a preacher, he had better try to procure a
berth in the University of Georgia, where he might
be able to provide for himself by teaching, at the same
time remarking that it would be of decided advantage
both to the University and to our Church for him to fill
a chair in that institution. The suggestion seemed to
strike him favorably ; and, as is known, he was subse-
quently called to a professorship there, which he filled
with distinguished ability and’ great popularity until
he left Athens to take the Presidency of Randolph
Macon College. He was influenced to this step in a
great measure by the hope that the climate of Vir-
ginia, being more northerly, might be better adapted
to his constitution, which he was now convinced could
not stand a climate as far South as Georgia. The re-
sult is well known. He soon found that he must
abandon Virginia and the cares and labors of collegi-
ate instruction, or find an early grave. He accordingly
left Virginia and sought in foreign travel that health
which seemed to be denied him in his own country.
In his foreign wanderings he buried his devoted and
accomplished wife, and ultimately returned with
health partially improved, but still not sufficient to
carry out his cherished desire of devoting his life and
energies wholly to the work of the gospel ministry.
166 The Life and Letters of

He was called to the Presidency of the Wesleyan
University, in which position he remained with great
credit to himself and usefulness to the Church till God
removed him from earth.

‘‘T regarded Dr. Olin as among the very best
preachers I ever listened to. He took in all the great
bearings of his subject almost intuitively. Although
there was no formal announcement of any division of
the text, yet the most admirable order and arrange-
ment were manifest throughout the entire discourse.
He seemed not only to grasp the whole range of im-
portant truth in his theme, but the keys to the human
understanding and heart seemed to be in his hands;
and as he proceeded in his masterly delineation of
truth, and his cogent and almost resistless application
of it to human conduct and motive, you felt so entirely
absorbed in the preacher’s mighty theme, that you
never thought to ask whether he was.an orator ac-
cording to the canons of that art. You had no time
nor heart to make any such inquiry. You felt that
the preacher, forgetting himself, had brought you—
mind, heart, and conscience—into an audience with
your God ; and in that august presence it would have
seemed a profane impertinence to ask or think of such
matters as‘style or gesture. While his sermons were
clear, able, and logical, and masterly expositions and
defenses of the great doctrines of Christianity—such
as only a scholar could have preached—yet was there
no affectation of learning. The end and aim of the
preacher was evidently to make the great truths which
he inculcated plain to his most illiterate hearers. He
loved to dwell on faith in its character and results, its
influence on human life and hope; and while you
Fames Osgood Andrew, 167

listened you were all the time saying to yourself:
‘Yes, that’s exactly the thing; I wonder I had not
thought of it in that light before.’

“It is said that ina company of clergymen of another
denomination, the following conversation, in substance,
occurred: ‘Well,’ said one of them, addressing a.
venerable senior who had heard Mr. Olin preach,
‘what is there about this celebrated Methodist
preacher that is so remarkable? Is it his oratory,
or what?’ ‘No,’ said the other, ‘he never seems to
think of oratory ; nay, he seems to set all the rules
of the schools on that subject at defiance ; you go to
hear him preach, and a large, rather coarse-looking
man rises before you; his gestures are rather awk-
ward than otherwise, but he takes his text and enters
upon its exposition, and you soon forget the man en-
tirely ; you have forgotten his looks and his gestures ;
but as he proceeds you say to yourself, “ Exactly right,
that’s certainly the very thing that ought to have been
said;’’ and so it continues, sentence after sentence, to
the end of the sermon; and you are thinking all the
time, ‘‘ Well, I wonder I never saw it so before, and if I
live to preach again I'll do it in the same way.” But
now,’ said the old gentleman, ‘do you try it.’ The
above incident gives fully my view of the peculiar
character of Dr. Olin’s preaching.

‘‘His sermons were always long, frequently two
hours in length, though his hearers seldom believed it
unless by the testimony of their watches. The fact was,
he preached but seldom, and when he was able to at-
tempt it, it was like the letting out of waters which
had been dammed up for weeks. Dr. Olin’s enuncia-
tion was distinct, yet he was a rapid speaker; and
“168 The Life and Letters of

when I used to listen to him, it seemed to me that he
had no utterance sufficiently rapid to give vent to the
mighty tide of thought and feeling which was rushing
through his mind and heart. But, perhaps, we should
quit this theme.”

The preacher in charge of the Charleston Station
was Samuel Dunwody. Of him the reminiscences
say:

‘‘ He was a man of many eccentricities, but of strong,
sterling sense, particularly in reference to theological
subjects; perhaps few men of the age have studied
the Scriptures more attentively, or analyzed the teach-
ings of the sacred oracles more closely and intelli-
gently than Brother Dunwody. He was, in the days
of his prime, the most thorough living concordance
that it has ever been my lot to meet. Fewer men
better understood the whole range of Wesleyan
theology, or could more ably defend the doctrines
therein embraced. He read much, observed closely,
and as he was blessed with a remarkably retentive
memory, whatever he once made his own he never
lost, but was always at his command when he had oc-
casion to use it. His accuracy of recollection, espe-
cially in reference to dates, was perfectly astonish-
ing. Nor was his reading by any means confined to
theology ; he was quite a politician. In short, he
read almost everything that came in his way. Yet
with all this amount of reading, intelligence, and pul-
pit strength, he was in his appearance and manners in
the pulpit and out of it the most perfect embodiment of
awkwardness I have ever met with; so that whenever
he went among strangers, the perfect contrast between
his appearance and manner and the strong manly
Fames Osgood Andrew. 169

sense of his pulpit performances, excited the greatest
wonderment. His friends, who knew his worth, and
who felt that his eccentricities of manner subtracted
largely from his usefulness, sought to impress upon
him the importance of correcting himself in these
matters ; but it was all in vain, and they came to the
conclusion that whatever change might have been
wrought in his younger days, he had passed the point
where improvement might be expected.

““We have dwelt thus long on this topic that we
might present before the young preachers the example
of a great and good man, who, with talents and piety
which have placed him in the front rank of modern
preachers, was yet, because of his eccentricities of
manner, deprived of at least half of the distinction and
usefulness to which he would certainly have attained
but for these drawbacks. Young preachers sometimes
borrow from their older brethren certain oddities of
manner which they regard as particularly striking,
and which they sedulously cultivate. Or it may be
that the young man has some eccentricity of manner
or speech which he regards as natural to him, and
which he is apt to indulge in a most luxuriant growth,
without ever inquiring whether its indulgence sub-
tracts from his efficiency as a Christian minister, and
these habits, thus uncorrected in youth, in a few years
take such vigorous root that it is next to impossible
to correct them. Let every young preacher in the
beginning of his ministry seek diligently to omit from
his manner and speech whatever may tend to de-
tract from the dignity and efficiency of his ministerial
character, and let him maintain this struggle with the

most determined energy and perseverance until he
8
170 The Life and Letters of

succeeds, for succeed he will, and the fruits of his
victory will more than repay him for all his struggles.”

““T, L. Wynn was a young man of good mind, With-
out early advantages, he had yet, by close application
to reading and study, made himself a very respectable
preacher. He felt keenly his lack of early training,
and determined to supply it by diligent application
to the pursuit of knowledge, and his profiting ap-
peared to the people of his charge. Had he lived
to old age he might have shone in the pulpit asa
man of considerable note, but it pleased God to call
him, while yet comparatively young, from the field of
his earthly toils and struggles to the rest above. His
only surviving son’ is now laboring successfully in the
California mission field, and promises nobly to bear
aloft the standard which fell from the dying hands of
his father.

“The country around Charleston for many miles is
swampy, abounding with ponds, which, during the
summer months, become pools of stagnant water, af-
fording a fit habitation for frogs and alligators, and
rendering the country extremely unfavorable to health,
and residents of the city going into this region and
remaining only for one night after the month of May,
were apt to be attacked with country fever, a disease
usually attended with great mortality. Such, at
least, was the state of things during the time I was on
the district. Whether the operation of “railroads has
materially changed the aspect of matters I cannot say.
In consequence of the prevalence of this opinion on

 

1The Rev. A. M. Wynn. Failing health drove him to Georgia
again, and for nearly thirty years he has continued hiswork, He is now
in the South Georgia Conference.
Fames Osgood Andrew. 171

this subject, my friends felt no little anxiety on my
account, for as my family were obliged to remain in
the city, and my duties required me to spend most of
my time in the country, I was looked upon by many
of the physicians and others as a doomed man, yet I
went forward in the name of the Lord. I lost no ap-
pointments on_ this account. I was in all portions of
the sickliest regions of the country at all seasons of
the year, and yet, I record it with gratitude to God,
my health continued good, with very slight excep-
tions, during the whole time that I was on the district.

“ As I had been elected to the General Conference, it
became necessary for me to leave home in April to
attend the session of that body,-which met in the city
of Baltimore. My home at this Conference was at
the house of George Baxley, who was a flour in-
spector and resided at the corner of Howard and some
other street, the name of which I have forgotten.
Brother and Sister Baxley were old Methodists of the
right stamp. It was a delightful home, especially as
I had for my companion my old friend, Samuel K.
Hodges. In the bosom of this kind family I not only
found a cordial welcome and a happy home during the
General Conference, but ever afterward, when I visited
Baltimore, I knew where to meet with a most kindly
greeting.

‘“‘The Conference proceeded with business in its
usual style. An attempt was made to give life to the
suspended resolutions of the preceding General Confer-
ence, and the subject was taken up and discussed with
the usual amount of thunder and lightning and start-
ling prophecy of coming ruin unless things were
changed. But we had had these ghosts of desolation
172 The Life and Letters of

conjured up before us so often, that we had gotten
used to them, and found them perfectly harmless.
So we quietly entombed them in the sepulchre of
suspension for four years more and proceeded to
other business. I have in a prior number referred
to a pamphlet written by several of Joshua Soule’s
colleagues from Baltimore in the previous General
Conference. This rather stealthy production was
calculated, probably designed, to present the conduct
of Mr. Soule in such a light to the Baltimore Confer-
ence as to prevent his return as a delegate from that
to the approaching General Conference. If such was
the design, however, it signally failed. Mr. Soule
met his opponents face to face on the floor of the
Annual Conference, and such was his triumphant vin-
dication of his own course and his exposé of the policy
of his opponents, that himself and his friends were
elected to the General Conference by a large majority.

“It being judged necessary to elect two additional
Bishops, the choice of the Conference fell on Joshua
Soule and Elijah Hedding—a fortunate selection in
both cases. The latter, having served the Church faith-
fully, has, in the course of the last twelve months,
passed safely and happily from earth to rest with God.
Bishop Soule, after taking a prominent and decided
part in the exciting occurrences of the past few years,
still lives to bless and guide the counsels of the Church
of his choice with his advice and example. But it is
useless to speak of him; his acts are before the public,
and when he shall have passed away, the record of
those acts will be his best biography.’

 

1 1853.
Faimes Osgood Andrew. 173

«The revolutionary movements which subsequently
affected the Church were already exciting a good deal
of interest inand around Baltimore, and organizations
were rife whose intent was to overthrow the princi-
ples and policy of the Methodist Church government,
with the alleged design of rendering our ecclesiastical
policy more in accordance with free democratic insti-
tutions of the State. The painful results which fol-
lowed in the next ten years are matters of historic
record, and it is unnecessary to notice these now, any
further than to say that after all the eloquent and
bitter things spoken and written against the trav-
eling preachers and the General Conference for not
granting the changes asked for, I think it would be
very difficult for any sober, sensible man to say they
could have done otherwise than they did without a
violation of the sacred right of a majority to govern.”

We have only one letter of this year, and that is
from the good wife to her parents.

““CHARLESTON, May 27, 1824.
‘““My BELOVED PARENTS:

“T wrote to you some time since, but having -re-
ceived no answer, I will try once more in the hope that
you may be prevailed upon to write. I received to-day
the fourth affectionate letter from my beloved hus-
band; his health was but indifferent. I may expect
him home about the middle of June, and I should be
extremely glad to receive a letter from you while
he is here. He will stay only two or three weeks,
and will then go around the district; he will be ab-
sent about six weeks. Oh, my parents, pray that his
health may be preserved through the sickly season.
174 The Life and Letters of

Sometimes my faith is almost ready to fail and dis.
trust the goodness of God. But I try to cast all my
care upon the Almighty arm, which has supported and
directed us so far. . . . Our religious prospects
in this place are rather encouraging than otherwise,
though one of our preachers is sick and unable to
preach, another not very hearty, and yet another
away, so that Brother Howard is the only stationed
preacher here at present who is able to preach much
without injuring himself.

‘‘T hope, my dear parents, your long silence has
not proceeded from affliction or any other distressing
cause. Do write soon, for I know it will worry Mr.
Andrew exceedingly if he should not hear from you
when he returns. Remember me affectionately to the
family and friends. Oh, when shall we meet again in
this vale of tears? perhaps never; if so I feel I shall
meet you in that place where tears shall be wiped
away and our souls be at rest forever.

‘‘T remain, my dear parents, your ever affectionate
daughter,

’ “A, A, ANDREW.”

Blessed woman! Bravely toiling to keep her hus-
band in his work. Almost fainting, but still keeping
her eyes heavenward, and trusting all the time.

Conference met in Fayetteville, January 20, 1825.
Of this year we have no information other than that
the minutes give us. There were some changes in
district lines, and Andrew gave up Savannah to Ro-
bert Flournoy, and took Georgetown into his district.
He has only nine appointments in all, but they cover
all of Eastern South Carolina. William Capers now
Fames Osgood Andrew. 175

came to Charleston and was placed in charge. Ste-
phen Olin was again appointed, but only to do what
he could. It was expected that he would edit the
Wesleyan Fournal, which was the first Methodist
weekly in the Southern country, and only four years
younger than the oldest in the United States. Capers
and Andrew had been close after each other. Andrew
followed Capers to Wilmington, to Savannah, and to
Columbia, but they had never been associated until
now. The friendship between a Presiding Elder and
his associates in the pastoral work ought to be of the
tenderest and closest kind, and such, we know, was
the relation between Capers and Andrew. How
closely their lives were linked together! They were
each on the same stations; each was the Presiding
Elder of the other; when Andrew was Bishop, Ca-
pers was Missionary Secretary, and they lived in the
same village, and their homes adjoined. They were
Bishops together in the Southern Church, and while,
as we have said, no men could have differed more,
yet how tenderly they loved each other. Their fami-
lies were as closely united. One day they were to-
gether, and Capers said to Andrew, ‘‘ James, how
is it, when I preach your wife gets happy, and when
you preach my wife gets happy; but my wife never
gets happy when I preach, nor yours when you preach.
Why is this?”

“Well,” said Andrew, ‘“‘ well, William, it is because
they know us so well.”

In the spring of 1826 he wrote from Orangeburg
the only letter I have been able to find for this year.
It is to his ‘‘ ever dear Amelia.’ He says in it :

“‘T left you on Wednesday morning, as I always
176 The Life and Letters of

do, with a heavy heart. The idea that I was to be
separated for four weeks from my own Amelia and my
dear children caused me alonesome ride. Perhaps, as
a Christian minister going on errands of love and duty,
I ought to be ashamed of this weakness. I ought not
to call anything which I can do or forego a sacrifice,
when I remember how much my gracious Lord has
done and: suffered for me, and recollect, too, what
many holy men have lost and suffered for Christ. I
ought not to say one word about my trials and sacri-
fices, for they have been as nothing, and, in fact, I
am not in the habit of speaking about these matters.
There is but one privation in all my lot which I feel,
and that is the loss of my Amelia’s company and the
separation from my dear little girls. I will say to my
fond, foolish heart, ‘Cease thy fluttering anxiety ; com-
mit to the care of thy God those so deservedly dear
to thee, and go on and perform thy Master’s work.’
Oh! would that this heart obey as easily as I write
the command upon paper!”

In his usual graphic style, but without any flourish,
he gives in his reminiscences an account of the yellow
fever in Charleston. To one who has never been ex-
posed to this fearful pestilence no true idea of its horror
can be conveyed. There is first a rumor that it has
come. As soonas that rumor is confirmed all who are
able and at liberty to go, flee to some place of safety.
The physician and faithful minister remain at their
posts. The houses of business are closed; the grass
begins to grow in the streets ; the churches are open
and a few earnest worshippers attend the services. The
negroes in those days generally escaped, but into almost.
every family of whites the stealthy pestilence creeps.
Fames Osgood Andrew. 177

By night and day. the calls for the pastor are made ;
church lines are blotted out; Catholic and Protestant
work side by side ; want goes hand in hand with dis-
ease ; wives are widowed ; husbands made wifeless ;
children orphaned. The fever came to Charleston, and
William Capers was stricken down. His faithful col-
league watched beside him till hope fled. Then Cas-
tile Selby, an old colored man, came to the bedside
of his dying pastor, and at his request the old man
turned his face to the wall and prayed. God in mercy
heard. The tide of disease was ‘stayed, then ebbed,
and the preacher was borne from the mouth of the
grave back to life.

Andrew tells the story of his own attack and won-
derful recovery. Why did he not leave the pestilence-
swept city? When, some years ago, the question was
being discussed as to whether the preacher should
flee from a pestilence when the physician remained to
battle with it, and sadly enough some said aye, one
of the most indignant nays was from James O. An-
drew, Jr., the son of Bishop James O. Andrew. In
those heroic days it was not a question for discus-
sion. Death at one’s post if need be, but flight from
it—-NEVER !

Three years on the district had gone, and he was
now to exchange places with William Capers, who
had been on the station, and in 1827 he was sent to
Charleston. He says in his reminiscences :

‘My colleagues this year (1827) were Henry Bass
and Noah Laney. Brother Laney married, and be-
fore many years located. He was a young man of |
good mind and an acceptable preacher. He subse-
quently settled on a plantation in Alabama, and died

8*
178 The Life and Letters of

an estimable local preacher. Of our excellent friend,
Brother Bass (who still lives), I may only say that he
was just a colleague after my own heart—deeply de-
voted and faithful to God and his charge; always
ready to work, without fearing he would be called on
to perform more than his proper share of labor. We
passed a peaceful and happy year together; and the
Church prospered under our ministrations. During
this year Charleston was visited with yellow fever,
that fearfal scourge which so frequently in former
years clothed our people in the habiliments of mourn-
ing. The disease prevailed extensively, and many a
family was made sad by the visits of the angel of
death. Among those who were sorely smitten by the
disease was my good friend, Dr. Capers, Presiding
Elder of the district. His attack was severe, and for
several days his recovery was doubtful; but it pleased
God to raise him up to his family and the Church. I
had been privileged to watch beside his sick-bed until
he was able to sit up and ride out; I was then stricken
down myself, and was brought apparently very near
the gates of death. Never shall I forget the sufferings
of that week. For several days I lay panting with
fever, my stomach rejecting everything ; and, oh, the
horrible feelings of those long, hot days of fever and
nights of sleepless agony! For nearly or quite a week
this continued, and my friends had little hope of my
recovery ; indeed, I had black vomit; yet prayer was
made continually to God for me, and deliverance came
when hope had well-nigh failed. I had, throughout
. my sickness, an unaccountable desire for bottled cider,
and this wish was made known to my physician, Dr.
S., who, for some time, paid no attention to it; finally,
Fames Osgood Andrew. 179

however, upon my continuing to urge it, he said to
my wife, in his usual abrupt style, ‘Give it to him
if it kills him.’ I heard the remark, and feebly re-
sponded, ‘I'll risk it, for I shall die anyhow.’ The
doctor then proposed that I should substitute porter
for cider, to which I assented. The porter was pro-
cured, and I swallowed a glass of it. The effect was
instantaneous. From that moment I was relieved.
In a few moments I was in a sweet, refreshing slumber,
the first of which I had been conscious for a week.
By morning the bottle was nearly empty, and when
the doctor came to visit me, instead of finding me
dead, he found me, as stated, a greatdeal better.

‘From that time I steadily and rapidly improved ;
and in the course of a few weeks was again able to
take my place in the pulpit. My house had been a
hospital; every one of my children having been sick
of the same disease. Yet God in mercy sustained and
strengthened my devoted wife, so that she was able
to bear up under all the fatigue and cares with
which the affliction of the household necessarily bur-
dened her: always at her post, cheerful and self-pos-
sessed, neither voice nor countenance gave any indi-
cation of the painful anxiety which was struggling in
her heart. Surely God was very gracious to me and
mine; for, although many had been sick, yet none
had died. We were all restored to health, and with
grateful hearts we bowed together at the family altar,
to praise God for his abundant goodness to us all.
The year closed in peace, and I repaired to Con-
ference.

“Tn 1828 I was returned to the station, with As-
bury Morgan and B. L. Hoskins as my colleagues.
180 The Life and Letters of

Brother Morgan was a pleasant companion, and accept-
able preacher, a man of amiable, sweet spirit, who
loved God and the Church, and was ready for every
good work. We labored in great harmony; but as
autumn approached yellow fever again made its ap-
pearance, and Brother Morgan was among its victims.
After several days of illness he died, leaving a fond
wife and several helpless children to mourn their early
bereavement. May God graciously regard them, and
guide them safely to a happy reunion with their de-
parted friend. Brother Hoskins married during the
year; he subsequently located, and settled in Wil-
mington, N.C. In consequence of some difficulty a
few years since, he left the Church of his early love and
joined the Protestant Methodists, among whom he
still labors as a preacher.

‘“‘We had considerable. prosperity during both
years. God favored us with gracious revivals of reli-
gion, and a large number, both among the whites
and blacks, were happily converted and added to the
Church. This gracious work was deep and extensive,
especially among the young men. Many of these
were very zealous; they held a weekly prayer-meet-
ing, which was signally blessed of God to the awaken-
ing and conversion of sinners. The best love-feasts
I ever attended in Charleston were held in 1828.
During the same period we established a flourish-

-ing Sabbath-school for the colored people. There
~had been one on a small scale many years before, but
it had died out, and for several years no attempt had
been made to resuscitate it, because, as was alleged
by some faint hearts, the public sentiment was against
it, and any attempt of the sort would be put down by
Fames Osgood Andrew. 181

the hand of violence. About this, however, I had
my doubts; and as I felt that the school was needed,
and if it was right God would sustain us in it, I re-
solved to try. A few of the whites came forward to
aid me in the work, but my principal dependence for
teachers was upon the intelligent blacks themselves,
many of whom took great delight in aiding me in the
important work upon which I had entered, and very
valuable assistance they rendered me. Our plan was
to meet in old Cumberland church every Sunday morn-
ing. I was Superintendent, and took an active part in
instructing the children who were marshalled in the
galleries under the charge of their respective teachers.
We endeavored to conduct matters prudently, and, just
as I expected, nobody troubled us; nay, many of the
wealthy of the city encouraged us by sending their
little negroes to our school, where we used to collect
every Sabbath morning from three hundred to four
hundred of them, to whom we imparted such instruc-
tion as we hoped would tend to their salvation.

“T recollect that during the year Bishop McKen-
dree visited Charleston, and on Sabbath mornings I
conducted him to old Cumberland, that he might wit-
ness the operations of my Sabbath-school. Never
shall I forget the look of delight with which the vener-
able man of God regarded the four hundred little
negroes before him; nor the deep interest with which
he spoke of that school during the whole time of his
stay among us. When left the station this school
was doing well in every sense, and I dare say has con-
tinued to do so, if the preachers who have been for
successive years the pastors of the church have been
industrious and self-denying enough to work for God,
182 The Life and Letters of

and have been less anxious to promote xiieie own than
God’s glory.

‘‘Perhaps I ought to have noticed that in the
month of April, in company with a number of the
delegates from the South Carolina Conference, I sailed
for New York, on our way to the General Conference
at Pittsburgh ; but of this, more hereafter,”

To establish a Sunday-school for negroes in
Charleston, and to superintend it himself, was surely a
practical way of showing his love for the colored
people, a love that, as far as he was concerned, never
knew abatement. His zeal for the conversion of the
negroes to God and his personal efforts to secure it,
perhaps, has never been equalled, and certainly not
surpassed. After his day, the white and colored people
in Charleston were placed in different charges, but now
he had thousands of negroes under his care and direc-
tion. Hewas elected at Conference, in January, to
go to Pittsburgh to the General Conference, which met
there in May. He gives in his reminiscences an
account of this journey. It was no small task to get
to Pittsburgh from Charleston by any conveyance; by
stage it required about two weeks of constant riding.
He went by ship to New York.

““We reached New York in safety, and there our
company divided, a portion of them going by way of
Philadelphia, while R. Adams and myself determined
to go by way of Niagara Falls. On our way up the
North River we stopped a day at Newburgh to visit
the Rev. T. Mason, who then resided there. From
thence we journeyed up the river to Albany, and took
the great Erie Canal as far as Rochester, and from
thence by stage to the Falls. Unfortunately we had
Fames Osgood Andrew, 183

only a few hours to spare for the contemplation of this
wonderful work of God. We did not cross into Can-
ada, and consequently did not, I suppose, see it in all
its glory ; but I saw enough to impress me deeply
with the grandeur and sublimity of the scene. Yet I
wrote no poetry, nor did I attempt any description of
it or of the impressions it produced on my mind, nor
do I suppose I should ever essay to write a chapter
about Niagara were I to visit it twenty times. The
subject is too mighty for my pen or pencil. I have,
since my visit to it, read many glowing attempts to
describe it in prose and verse by men and women va-
riously gifted, but they all seemed to me miserable
failures. The scene does not admit of adequate de-
scription.

“From the Falls we took stage for Buffalo, but
after going as far as Tonawanda, I discovered that in
changing stages at the Falls my trunk had been left
behind, so there was no alternative but for me to re-
turn in search of it. After some little delay and diffi-
culty I succeeded in hiring a youth to take me back in
a cart which he was wont to use for every sort of pur-
pose, from carrying passengers to hauling manure.
My young friend was very communicative, and led me
into the secret history of more than one of the notables
of Tonawanda; and if he did not belie them, they did
not fail to profit by their contiguity to Canada, even
at Uncle Sam’s expense. I returned in time to spend
the night in this staid town, having without difficulty
recovered my trunk, and next morning we again took
our places in the stage and urged our way to Buffalo,
a place then beginning to attract considerable atten-
tion, and which has since fully redeemed the pledge
184 The Life and Letters of

of its earlier promise. Here we tarried for a day of
two, and then took a Lake Erie steamer for Dunkirk
or Erie, I do not now distinctly remember which, where
we again entered the stage, and continued that mode
of conveyance all the way to Pittsburgh. But oh such
roads and such traveling! The freeze of the previous
winter was just breaking up, and the roads were con-
sequently just about as bad as deep mud could make
them. We had noble teams and good drivers, and
yet we often found it difficult to make two miles per
hour. At length, however, after much tribulation, we
reached the city of smoke and furnaces with whole
‘bones.

“There was a pretty full attendance of delegates,
and the business of the General Conference went on
about as usual. During this session the celebrated
suspended resolutions were formally repealed, only
one or two venturing to defend them. There was also
considerable discussion about Canada affairs. Some
year or two prior to this time Bishop Soule had
preached before the South Carolina Conference at
Augusta, Ga., on the ‘ Law of Liberty.’ This discourse
had been published by request of the Conference.
Some of the positions taken in his sermon were held in
no little disfavor in various quarters. It was assailed
by the Presbyterian press of Charleston, and to
these animadversions there was a reply written by
Rev. W. Capers. We learned, on our arrival at
Pittsburgh, that the sermon had given considerable
dissatisfaction to a good many of the Northern and
Eastern preachers, among the rest Wilbur Fisk, who
maintained that several of its portions were anti-
Methodistic. It was rumored that the Bishop would
Fames Osgood Andrew. 185

be arraigned before the Conference on a charge of
heresy in doctrine, which was, in fact, attempted to-
ward the close of the session; but I think the move-
ment resulted in the disappointment of its authors.

‘* At this Conference Dr. Capers was appointed our
delegate to England, quite against the wishes and ef-
forts of not a few adolition brethren, who seemed to
regard all contact with slaveholders by way of pro-
motion, especially where there was either honor or
profit concerned, as a most horrible matter. In con-
sequence of his selection for this foreign mission,
Brother Capers left Pittsburgh several days before the
close of the session, and as I had a sick child at home,
I determined to bear him company. After a fatiguing
ride we reached Charleston ; but, alas, before I got to
the parsonage I learned that my sweet little Ann
Amelia was in the grave. I had been denied even the
sad privilege of seeing her die; but God had taken
her, and I murmured not. Her precious body was
committed to the dust in the Bethel church-yard; but
when, on a recent visit to the cemetery, I sought
anxiously to identify the spot, it could not be done.

“And now the period approached when I was to
dissolve the ties which bound me to my beloved flock
in Charleston. My two years among them were draw-
ing to a close—two years of affliction, painful anxiety,
and much toil, yet they had-been years of great peace
and comfort. God had greatly prospered the labors
of my colleagues and myself; the Church had largely
advanced in numbers and in piety ; a large number of
young persons had been added to our ranks; we had
enjoyed the benefit of two excellent camp-meetings in
the neighborhood of the city, which were emphatically
186 The Life and Letters of

the Charleston camp-meetings ; and to crown all, when
the year closed, and I took my leave, I had every
reason to believe the Church was in peace.”

In May John Andrew wrote a letter to his son
which the reader shall have. It is very beautifully
written in a clear, strong hand, and is in accord with
all the requirements of the schools. John Andrew
was quite seventy years old, and was living in Clarke
County, north from Watkinsville, at a little hamlet
called Mt. Zion.

From JOHN ANDREW.
: “Mr. Zion, Ga., March 14, 1828,
““My DEAR SON:

“We received your welcome letter from Conference,
and yet you owe us two more, which I expect you
never intended to pay. I am glad to hear of the good
results of the Conference, and look forward to the
success of the Gospel this year without doubt, and
with pleasing anticipation. Now, my son, I rejoice in
having preachers sent us, yet I wished to have had
Brother Wightman; but God’s will be done! Another
great desire and expectation was to have you near us,
a blessing the Conference has never granted us, and I
feel I had a right to expect and wishit. If I knew
certainly it was the will of my Divine Master to keep
you in that station, I would most cheerfully submit,
but I do think sometimes that some appointments are
not ordered of God. In this instance of your appoint-
ment to Charleston I can’t see clearly the propriety
or the benefit. I fear it has been done to keep you
engaged in that controversy with a certain somebody
—I don’t know who—and I don’t like your being con-
Fames Osgood Andrew. 187

cerned in the crooked affair; persecution, or lies, or
whatever it may be termed can never hurt the Meth-
odist cause, if we are faithfully engaged, and all that
you can write will never convince those who are pre-
determined to continue in their own opinions. Bishop
Soule’s sermon speaks for itself; they never can de-
stroy the truths contained therein. "Tis a sense of
those truths, all-important, that rouses their thunders.
Why, I have long known that to preach holiness and
to urge the necessity of it is to insult the Calvinist,
rouse the devil, and create enemies by numbers. ‘Tis
true I may not understand the matter rightly, but I
do think we should be very cautious how we concern
ourselves with these controversial subjects; at any rate
I wish you to be little engaged in such. I confess I
am liable to err, and I knowI would not for thousands
of worlds injure that sacred cause. I wish to say
nothing that will influence your conduct in any way
that is wrong ; but, my dear James, we feel tenderly
for your reputation as a minister, as a Christian, and
as a child ; however, then, you may smile at our fears,
remember ‘tis possible you may be wrong. I have
done. Only one expression more: if you continue in
the war, be mild, avoid reproachful expressions
toward your adversary. Do not wound your enemy
by harshness or severity, but ever show the meekness
of the Lamb, trying to convince rather than to beat
down. I said we feel, because your mother makes
the same request of you.

‘“My son, Iam now done with those (to me) disa-
greeable matters. Your tender mother says you must
write to us before you go to Conference, and tell our
dear Amelia she must write as soon as you write to
188 The Life and Letters of

her from Conference. So must Elizabeth write to us.
We have enjoyed good health as a family, and have
been much blessed. I am now, as I generally am,
neither sick nor entirely well, but I feel thankful for
my religious enjoyment. God is near tome. Iam
waiting, expecting my change to come. I commonly
enjoy tolerable health. Your dear mother has had
some small attacks, but not severe. She now enjoys
health. The children are, I believe, all well. In
society we are still dull, yet we have had some
additions. Remember us to our Amelia, and the
children, and to every friend of ours or yours. All
join me in love to you all, Adieu! I am in affec-
tion,
‘« Sincerely yours,
“‘JoHN ANDREW.”

The son replies:

‘CHARLESTON, April 11, 1828.
“My DEAR FATHER:

‘‘Your affectionate epistle was received a few days
since, and I was greatly rejoiced to hear of your health,
and the peace and comfort with which the Lord favors
you. It would afford me unspeakable pleasure to
surround your table with my wife and little ones once
more, and I still look forward to the time when I shall
enjoy that satisfaction. In reference to your remarks
about my appointment in connection with the Charles-
ton controversy, I have only to say that neither the
appointment nor a participation in the controversy
were sought by me, and I believe that whatever I may
have contributed toward carrying on the quarrel has
Fames Osgood Andrew. 189

been in strict accordance with the character of the
Gospel. I shall endeavor not to sink the character of
the minister in the work of the controversy. Still con-
tinue to pray for me that I may be kept from evil.
Since my return from Conference I have had some
reason to believe that God has sent me here. The
Church is in a comfortable state. Little more than a
week since we held one of the greatest camp-meetings
ever seen in this neighborhood. Twenty persons
joined at our last love-feast. The meeting was just
noisy enough to have suited you, and I am sure if you
had been there you would have seen that Charleston
people were not afraid of noise. My dear Amelia’s
health has not been good for some time past, but she
is a little improved within a few days. Elizabeth,
Sarah, and Henrietta go to school and all learn finely.
Henrietta and Sarah both can read, and Elizabeth
learns her grammar, geography, and French pretty
well. Little Ann Amelia is fat and hearty, except a
bad cough, which makes her rather fretful. On Mon-
day morning we expect to sail for New York on board
the ship Saluda, Captain Jennings, the following
brethren accompanying, viz.: L. Pierce, W. Capers,
H. Bass, G. Hill, E. Sinclair, William M. Kennedy,
and R. Adams. We shall go to New York, thence
by the way of Albany and Lake Erie to Pittsburgh.
‘Pray for us. Amelia and all unite in love to you. I
am in haste and must conclude. You shall hear from
me again in Pittsburgh, God willing. My love to all,
and believe me,
“Yours affectionately,
“JAMES O. ANDREW.”
190 The Life and Letters of

On his way to the General Conference he wrote his
wife :

“ON BOARD SHIP SALUDA, INSIDE SANDY Hook,
. . ‘April 22, 1828.
““My EVER DEAR AMELIA:

“‘It is quite late at night, and all is quiet in the
ship save the howling of the winds through the
shrouds and the footsteps of the watch on deck. I
know your anxiety to hear from me, and that you will
be glad to receive even a hasty scrawl from your own
Andrew. I therefore write you these few lines to-
night that I may not miss to-morrow’s mail. We
have just cast anchor here this evening, after one of
the most stormy passages which our captain says he
has ever experienced. We have had a succession of
violent gales. Ever since we left Charleston we have
been in imminent danger. We have heard of the loss
of some vessels on this coast, yet, thanks be to God,
we have all been preserved in safety. May our grati-
tude be commensurate with our obligations. I have
been sick most of the way, but find myself improving.
Please say to Brother Adams’ friends that he is doing
pretty well, and so, in fact, are all our company. In
the midst of our dangers my mind was kept in perfect
peace; I felt no alarm. These words were constantly
in my mind, ‘God is here,’ and the thought afforded
me unspeakable pleasure. Occasionally, indeed, when
I thought of home, and my mind adverted to her
who is the centre of my earthly comforts, and to my
precious children, a pang would cross my mind; but
why should it? My own Amelia and my dear chil-
dren are with God, and he can protect, and bless, and
keep. My dear wife, need I say, pray for me; I
Fames Osgood Andrew. 191

know you don’t forget me. I desire above all things to
see you alive to God, and with you to rejoice in the
full influence of sanctifying grace. My beloved wife,
do be careful of your health; you know how dear
you are to me; for my sake, be not prodigal of your
strength. But ’tis time to close my hasty epistle.”’

There was a pang in store for him of which he had.
no thought. He had been in Pittsburgh not more
than a week when his darling babe Amelia was taken
from him. She was but a babe—a babe of but little
over a year old—but she was his babe.

‘* And she is in her grave; and oh! the difference to me.”

His stricken wife wrote the following beautiful let-
ter to her parents:

‘CHARLESTON, May 11, 1828.

‘“‘T trust my dear parents are blessed with health
and comfort, and that every member of the family
shares with them in temporal and spiritual comforts.
I presume you received Mr. Andrew’s last, written
a short while before he left us. He sailed on the
14th'ult., and after a boisterous passage of eight days
arrived in safety in New York. They met with a suc-
cession of storms, and once were in imminent danger
for some hours. The vessel struck on shoals, and in
getting off sprung a leak. The danger was so great
that the captain let the passengers know that he had
but little hope, and the boats were ordered out to save
passengersgand crew if possible; but a merciful Provi-
dence overruled it, and caused the storm to abate,
and the vessel arrived at her destined port in safety.
Mr. Andrew wrote me frow New York; he was sick
most of the passage, but was then better. They had
192 ; The Life and Letters of

a company of thirty or more passengers, among whom
were eight Methodist and two Episcopal ministers,
one Jewish priest, two Quakers, Presbyterians, etc.,
quite an assortment. Mr. Andrew wrote Brother
Hoskins a day or two after he wrote me; he was well.
But, my dear parents, your Amelia writes with a
heavy heart. The Lord has visited me with his chas-
tening rod, and, though I desire to bow in submis-
sion to his will, yet nature shrinks. On Friday, the
goth, the babe left this for a world of bliss. O, ’twas
hard to resign her. She was a lovely child; she
could walk, and began to talk, and was very interest-
ing. I had gone, by the doctor’s direction, across
the river for the benefit of the salt air, but, finding
that she grew worse, after staying a few days I re-
turned. The doctor sent me the same day a little
out of town, in another direction, to the house of a
friend, where he could see her twice a day. I went
there this day week; the dear babe mended and by
Wednesday I had great hopes of her. That night the
weather changed, and by morning she was evidently
worse. I brought her home, where she lingered un-
til the next afternoon, and then, after being in agony
all day, she sweetly fell asleep, and so gently did her
spirit take its flight, that it was not easy to tell the
precise moment when she ceased breathing, As long
as she could speak, every breath was ‘ Ma, ma,’ and
she always said it sweeter than any child I ever heard
speak. Oh, how I feel at the idea of dear Mr. An-
drew’s sorrow. He doted on the lovely child, for
she was a most engaging, promising babe. I think
‘she had the best countenance I ever saw,.not unlike
Sarah, though she was always said to be the very pic-
Fames Osgood Andrew. 193

ture of her father. We used often to speak of the
time when we should have the pleasure of taking her
to see you all. I knew you would love her, but it is
all over now, and she sleeps quietly in the cold earth.
Oh, my dear parents, pray for your afflicted daughter.
The fatigue I have undergone nursing my lovely child
has prevented me from gaining much strength, though
I keep up. The rest of the family are well. The
dear children express their love for you all. I have
experienced much satisfaction in the attention of Eliza-
beth ; she seems anxious to administer all the conso-
lation in her power to my bleeding heart. I hope,
my dear parents, you will excuse the prolixity of this
scrawl. I thought the particulars would be gratifying
to you, and, indeed, it is a partial relief to my own
heart, for it seems, sometimes, as if it would burst.
Remember me affectionately to every member of the
family and all friends.
‘‘T remain, your affectionate daughter,
‘“ANN A, ANDREW.”

He heard no word of the bereavement; the letter
conveying the tidings did not reach Pittsburgh. He
had heard of her sickness and hurried away from
Pittsburgh. By the long stage route from western
Pennsylvania he made all the haste he could home-
ward, to find that the child was gone.

The following letter he wrote to his father on his
child’s death :

‘CHARLESTON, June 16, 1828.
““My DEAR FATHER:

‘“‘Vour letter to Amelia was received a few days

since, the contents of which gave us some anxicty.
9
194 The Life and Letters of

We regret to hear of the indisposition of the girls, but
hope they have recovered before this time. You com-
plain of not having heard from us recently. This ex-
cites some surprise, as I think I wrote you from Pitts-
burgh, and Amelia informs me that she wrote you
more than a month since, giving you the melancholy
intelligence of the death of our precious babe, our
sweetest little Ann Amelia, who departed this life on
May oth, after a painful illness of several weeks.
I reached Pittsburgh on the morning of May 5th,
about 9 o’clock, and on the 8th or 9th received a let-
ter from Amelia, informing me that the child was very
ill; in’ about ten days I received another, announc-
ing her continued illness. I became so uneasy and
anxious on the subject that on the morning of the 21st
I left Pittsburgh, four days before the adjournment of
the Conference. After a most fatiguing route in the
stage, I reached home on the 31st, and judge, my dear
parents, what my feelings were when I found that
my dear babe had been dead and buried nearly three
weeks, yet I had not heard of her death till I reached
the city. Amelia had written, but I had not received
the letter. It was a most painful stroke, for she was
a sweetly interesting child; but I have endeavored to
submit without a murmur, and I believe God has en-
abled me to do so. Often when I sit around my table
and see the little chair vacant in which she used to sit,
I cannot repress the sigh or starting tear, or when I
look at the grave in which her precious remains are
deposited ; but then I remember she is safe—forever
safe. God has taken her to himself, and long ere this
she has recognized a kindred spirit near the throne.
Happy thought, that I have two dear children in
Fames Osgood Andrew, 195

heaven! Oh, my God, bring me and all mine safely
to that blessed place! Amelia bears it with her ac-
customed fortitude. Her own health is not good. I
think she is thinner than I ever saw her. I wish very
much that she were with you during the summer, but
she utterly refuses to leave me. My own health is
pretty good, and the children are in fine health, and
are improving very well at school. The affairs of the
church here are moderately prosperous. Some of last
year’s ingathering are gone back, but more of them
continue steadfast. In some of the adjoining coun-
ties the prospects are encouraging. Perhaps I ought
to say a word about my trip to Pittsburgh. I
wrote you that I was to sail in the Saluda. We left
Charleston on April 15th, and after an unusually
tempestuous voyage of eight days we reached New
York. After staying a few hours in this great em-
porium, we took passage on the steamboat Victory
for Albany. From Albany we took stage for Schen-
ectady, and thence took passage in a canal boat for
Utica. From Utica we took passage for Rochester,
and thence by stage we went to Lewiston, just on the
frontier of the United States. Just on the other side
of the Niagara is Queenstown, in Upper Canada. The
next morning we went seven miles to visit the far-
famed Falls of Niagara. After spending a couple of
hours in viewing’this most stupendous work of God,
we took stage for Buffalo, on Lake Erie; from there
we took steamboat up Lake Erie to Dunkirk, and
thence by stage to Erie, and on to Pittsburgh. Isaw
a great many interesting scenes, but my flight was too
rapid to examine any subject minutely. The Hudson
River, Hudson and Erie Canal, the mighty cataract of
196 The Life and Letters of

Niagara, the Lakes Ontario and Erie, and the mighty
range of lofty summits which form the Alleghany
Mountains—these were all subjects of deep and de-
lightful interest. Perhaps I may be permitted some
day to see you, and then we can talk it all over.
‘‘ Amelia joins me in love to all.
“*T remain yours affectionately,
““JAMES O. ANDREW.”

The man never murmured. He had given himself
entirely to God; in God’s hand he rested. It was
enough that God took the child. His life had never
been free from care, and in these last years sorrow
had come thick and fast, but God was good, and did
all things well. Nor did his wife complain, the noble,
lovely woman that she was. Many a woman has been
canonized who was no such saint as she.

The fearful pestilence of the year before visited
Charleston again, and one of the preachers fell a victim
to it—Asbury Morgan. He had been one of the most
faithful and most successful laborers, and the tribute
paid to him by the gentle wife was richly deserved.
We have her letter:

‘“ CHARLESTON, October 25, 1828.

“‘T trust, my beloved mother, that this will find you
all in the enjoyment of health and happiness. Father's
last was received with much pleasure. We rejoice in
that measure of health which, as a family, you have
enjoyed this year. As to ourselves, we have abun-
dant cause for gratitude to God; our mercies have
been many, and, although we have not been alto-
gether free from the chastening rod of affliction, yet
we know the hand that sent it knows just how much
Fames Osgood Andrew. 197

to inflict. And here, my dear mother, I must pause
to drop a tear to the memory of that lovely little one-
which, less than six months ago, I fondly called mine.
She was indeed lovely, and beloved by all that had
any knowledge of her. Too precious for this world
of sin and sorrow, she has been transplanted into a
kinder soil. I try to submit, but sometimes I find it
hard to say, ‘Thy will be done.’ As a Church, we
have been scourged by the Almighty; he has taken
from us one whose life was a comment on the doc-
trines he preached. We may come as near applying
this character to Brother Morgan as to any one I
know: that, as his Divine Master, he was ‘holy,
harmless, undefiled, separate from sinners.’ He died
from the ‘stranger's,’ or yellow fever. That awful
disease did not prevail to any great extent this sea-
son, but it was almost universally fatal—from what
cause we are unable to determine, but physicians
suppose it was in consequence of the remains of the
dengue fever in the system, for I do not suppose that
more than one hundred of our entire population es-
caped that. To many infirm and aged persons it
proved fatal, but, in general, it was not considered
dangerous, though it has left in almost all who were
in any degree debilitated or infirm, rheumatic affec-
tions of the joints and limbs. Our dear Brother Mor-
gan appeared to enjoy better health this year than he
had done for many years past, and was more deeply
engaged in the work of God than I ever saw him be-
fore. The last Sabbath he preached was a day of
great labor, in consequence of its being Sacramental
Sabbath for the blacks ; he seemed that day unusually
drawn out, and his sermon was so much ljke his farewell
198 The Life and Letters of

charge, that it was remarked by several that he preached
as if he were going away. The next day he was taken
sick, and after eleven days of extreme suffering he left
‘this for a better world. Mr. Andrew scarcely ever
left him, and though he could not often speak of his
feelings, yet, during his sickness, he expressed him-
self satisfactorily to Mr. Andrew. For the last two
or three days he did not appear sensible, except at
very short intervals, and could not speak much, but
we needed no dying words to convince us of his fit-
ness for heaven ; his life supplied us with every assur-
ance necessary. He has left a heart-broken widow
and three small children, the youngest just three
weeks old when he died. In consequence of the death
of Brother Morgan, the labors of the two remaining
preachers have necessarily increased, but they are as-
sisted by an Almighty hand.

‘‘Brother Capers has not yet returned from Eng-
land. We begin now to look for him. I feel as if the
year was almost gone, and a move we must make,
where to we know not. I desire to have no choice,
but just to go where my dear husband may be most
useful, though at times I feel some degree of uneasi-
ness about it. Mr. Andrew is at this time from home
attending the District Conference. He will return in
a few days.”

His second year in Charleston as a pastor ended
and he repaired to Conference to receive his new ap-
pointment. It was to Greensboro and Athens, in
Georgia.
Fames Osgood Andrew. 199

CHAPTER V.
GEORGIA AGAIN.

1829-1832.

Greensborough. —Athens. — Hope Hull.—The Protestant Methodist
Church.—Mr. Andrew's Views on Freedom of Thought and Discus-
sion. —1829.—Athens,—Madison —John Andrew's Death.—Sketch of
his Character.~-Augusta Again.—Visit to the South Carolina Confer-
ence.—Missionary Address.—Bishop Wightman’s Account.—George
F. Pierce.—Resolves to go on a Mission.—General Conference in
Philadelphia.—Elected a Bishop.

INCE he traveled the Warren Circuit before he
was an Elder, with the exception of the time he

was on the Charleston District, he had been confined
to station work, and in the largest cities of his Confer-
ence. He was now to find a new and to him -much
more pleasant field. He was sent to two flourishing
country towns in Middle Georgia—Greensborough and
Athens. Middle Georgia, as the central part of the
State is called, had even then been a long time the
stronghold of Methodism, which had been settled
there from 1789. In Greene County, then one of the
wealthiest and most populous of the counties, as early
as 1808 Francis Asbury, with Dr. Coke, had held a
Conference. Greensborough, the county site to which
he was now sent, had been visited in 1827 with a
glorious and sweeping revival. In the town resided
the families of Dr. Pierce and John Howard, and
200 The Life and Letters of

there also were a number of wealthy and pious laymen.
The congregation was composed of the most intelli-
gent and influential people in the State. Judge Long-
street, Colonel Foster, the Dawsons, the Cunning-
hams—historic names in Georgia—had their homes
here. The Bishop says in his reminiscences :

x ‘‘The time having arrived for us to leave Charles-
ton, I sent my wife and two youngest children by
steamer to Augusta, while I went in a private car-
riage with my eldest daughter. On reaching Augusta
I found that my kind Greensborough friends, Mr. and
Mrs. Stewart, had sent their carriage to convey my
family to our new home. In due time and in safety
we reached Greensborough, and received a cordial and
heart-cheering welcome from the friends above named,
as well as from the Church and citizens generally.
After some little delay a suitable house was procured,
and the good people started us in housekeeping.
The arrangement was that I should locate my family
in Greensborough, and should preach on alternate
Sabbaths in that place and the town of Athens, the
distance between them being about thirty-five miles.
Upon the whole, this arrangement was pleasant, as it
imposed on me the necessity of taking every week an
amount of exercise which was conducive to my health ;
and as an additional matter of gratification, my ven-
erable father and mother lived near the road between
the two places, so that I was able to visit them almost
every week. During all my itinerant career I had
paid them only occasional visits, and these had, of
necessity, been very brief; and in looking back upon
the events of the two years in which I was accustomed
to travel that road in attending my appointments,
Fames Osgood Andrew. 201

nothing has afforded me more sincere and abiding
pleasure than the fact that I was able to minister so
greatly to the happiness of my loved parents, espe-
cially of my father, who was so soon to leave this land
of sin and sorrow.”

Athens, the other village, was thirty-five miles away.
It was the seat of the university, and a place of even
then considerable commercialimportance, having a pro-
ductive country all around it. Nearit Hope Hull had
lived, and in it his sons Asbury and Henry“were liv-
ing at this time. Thomas Stanley, the Bishop’s old
colleague, had here a high school for girls, and his
father’s old friend, General Merriwether, lived some
miles away, but worshiped in the village. The so-
ciety was not a large one, but quite strong financially,
and unusually intelligent. The change from the sea-
board to his native hills was a delightful one to him ;
he needed it and enjoyed it. He says in his remi-
niscences of one whom we have often mentioned :

‘*Near Athens lived and died, some few years pre-
vious to the time of which I write, the Rev. Hope
Hull, one of the pioneers of Methodism in Georgia,
and the house in which the Methodists of the neigh-
borhood used to meet for the worship of God was not
far from town. This humble tabernacle had passed
away, and a commodious wooden chapel, occupying a
pleasant and convenient position in the town, had
been erected in its stead. A year or two since this
building was succeeded by the present handsome brick
edifice. 2

“ Of the earlier band of disciples who watched the
incipient struggles of Methodism in this neighborhood,
and who gave themselves to God under its banner, a

Ox
202 The Life and Letters of

very few yet remain on earth, and of these some are
removed to distant portions of the country. First
among them stands the remarkable man whose name
has already been mentioned. Of the birthplace and
early history of the Rev. Hope HullI have no definite
information. Of his appearance, however, his man-
ners, and especially his voice, I have a yery vivid
recollection, having frequently in my younger days
seen him in my father’s family and at camp-meetings.
He was*a stout, portly man, of commanding appear-
ance, with a countenance rather stern, about which
there played, nevertheless, a good deal of sly humor.
His voice was one of unusual compass and power, and.
of all the preachers to whom I have ever listened (and
they have been many), he had the most absolute con-
trol over his hearers by the modulations of his voice.
I remember to have heard him preach twice at Tabor’s
old camp-ground, in Elbert County, when I was a boy,
and although so many years have intervened, his
texts, and a good deal of both sermons, together with
his appearance, are still fresh in my memory. One
of the texts was in Habakkuk, ‘ O Lord, Ihave heard
thy speech and was afraid ; O Lord, revive thy work.’
The discourse was characteristic, and the prayer of
the text was answered even while he was yet preach-
ing. The other was a Monday morning sermon, a
sort of farewell to the camp-meeting. The text was
appropriate, ‘Gather up the fragments which remain,
that nothing be lost ;’ and the discourse was in ad-
mirable keeping with it. It was a memorable season,
and not a few of God’s people made a refreshing meal
upon the delicious fragments which were served up
to them by this faithful steward of their Master. Of

.
Fames Osgood Andrew. 203

the character of his preaching generally I shall at-
tempt no description, as I was too young to judge.
Of one thing, however, there can be no doubt: he
was a mighty man of God, eminently fitted for the
work which his God assigned him. Of this the almost
unparalleled success which everywhere attended his
ministry affords the most conclusive proof.

“‘The Methodist preachers of the early time had
small libraries, and but little time to devote to the
few books within their reach. There was, however,
one book which they studied closely, and they used its
truths to good effect. We think it very questionable
whether the teachers of the present age, with all the
light of science and philosophy, and all the aid of
critical exegesis, are more profoundly acquainted with
the doctrinal, experimental, and practical teachings of
the Holy Scripture, than were those early apostles of
Methodism, whose whole wardrobe and library were
carried in a pair of saddlebags; who preached every
day and frequently at night; held class-meetings al-
ways; read their Bibles, and that often on their knees;
aimed right at the conscience and heart in their ser-
mons, and seldom missed their mark. Many of these
men were, indeed, men of giant might.

“Of Mr. Hull I may only say, further, that in my
childhood I was taught to reverence him. He was
an early and intimate friend of my father and mother,
and was frequently at their house. On one of these
occasions, when I was an infant, he took me up in his
arms and prayed God to bless me, and make mea
useful preacher of the gospel. Had that prayer any
influence on my subsequent life? But the career of
this great and good man drew toaclose. The mes-
204. The Life and Letters of

senger came for him and found him ready. He had
received marching orders, and joyfully obeyed the
command of the glorious Captain of his salvation, to
go over Jordan and possess the land of his inheritance.
His godly wife, who was among the earliest fruits of
Methodism in Georgia, survived her husband a few
years, and then she, too, peacefully exchanged earth
for heaven.”

It was during this period and reaching to 1832 that
he did his great evangelistic work in upper Georgia.
He does not say much about it, for he was never
given to glorifying himself. The times were full of
great religious earnestness, camp-meetings were fruit-
fully frequent, and he was in his prime as a preacher.
It was just at this time, too, that the Methodist Protes-
tant Church was formed. Some of Mr. Andrew’s old
and warm friends led in the secession movement in
Georgia. They were men of great force, and influence,
and piety. This excitement ran very high and the
feelings of those arrayed against each other were very ,
intense. To him all strife was painful, and especially
strife like this. The wisdom of his views, as given in
the reminiscences, has been vindicated by after results.
He says:

‘‘In this state of things it became a grave question
as to what was the better course for preachers in charge
of the principal circuits involved in the movement ; and
as I had by this time got to be regarded as one of the
fathers, my advice was asked, which I gave to the fol-
lowing purport: Avoid as far as possible all contro-
versy with them, lest you catch their spirit; treat
them always with Christian courtesy. If they utter
bitter things against you or the Church, listen pa-
Fames Osgood Andrew. 205

tiently ; and if any member of your charge desires to
join them and asks you for a certificate of his fair
standing, without hesitation give it, if his previous
standing will justify it. Let the reformers have all the
quarreling to themselves; let them preach the gospel
of wrath and bitterness. Do you steadily preach the
gospel of the grace of God, and the people will soon
return to your churches and say the old wine is best.

‘‘T have reason to believe that this advice was
generally followed by the preachers, and the result
was that the radical movement met with very limited
success; whereas, if the contrary course had been
taken, very different results would have followed. A
little persecution would have been a perfect godsend
to them, as it would have afforded them a passport to
the sympathies of hundreds of that class who never
take pains to examine the arguments, gro or con, on
any subject, but who instinctively attach themselves
to those who can make out a seemingly fair case. I
have no doubt, if a similar course had been pursued
everywhere in those exciting times, thousands would
have been saved to the Church, many of them valuable
men and women, who, under a contrary course of
treatment, were driven from us in an unfortunate
hour, and, with their families, forever lost to our in-
fluence. ’

‘* And now you will permit me to say, heterodox
as the sentiment may seem, I very much question the
wisdom of that rule in our discipline which makes the
inveighing against either our doctrine or discipline a
crime punishable with expulsion from the Church.
Good as I sincerely believe the Methodist discipline
and polity to be, and much as I approve and love it,
206 The Life and Letters of

it is yet a human production and, doubtless, has the
stamp of imperfection on it, and the legislation of
successive General Conferences has proven that the
book was regarded as defective and as requiring amend-
ment in many things. And if the highest assembly
of the Church takes the liberty of amending it, can it
be sinful in a member to express occasionally doubts
as to its absolute excellency? To be sure, no good
Methodist would: seek to sow discord in the Church
by inveighing against the discipline, and if the ad-
ministrators of the law were always prudent and wise,
the law might be useful; but the times which seem to
call for the administration of such a law are precisely
the seasons when deliberate prudence on either side
is not to be expected ; when men’s minds are excited
to a very high pitch, and when the original cause
of difficulty is greatly increased by reports of speeches
and opinions, highly colored in their transmission
through the medium of a class of people whose great-
est delight is to magnify evil and increase strife and
‘trouble. How easy would it be in such a state to find
occasion for a charge of violating the discipline against
a man who had become at all exceptionable to the
preacher or a particular section of the society. The
decision as to his guilt or innocence depends upon the
definition of the term ‘inveighing against the discip-
line.” Now, suppose the preacher to be an inexperi-
enced, bigoted, and reckless devotee to whatever
goes under the name of ‘old Methodism,’ with a com-
mittee to match—and such a thing is very possible and
has been more than once—would it not be very easy
to convict him, and require him to retract or leave the
Church? It is in vain that he urges that, while admit-
Fames Osgood Andrew. 207

ting that he has at times spoken of some of the usages
of the Church as not the best, yet he had an abiding
love for the Church, and desires to continue in her
communion, but he cannot retract the opinions he
has uttered without sinning against his conscience ;
and if the authoritative decision is retraction or separa-
tion from the Church, he must unhesitatingly embrace
the latter.

‘‘ My observations for many years have induced the
conviction that by proceedings similar in substance
to the case we have just presented, not a few persons
have been driven from us, and they were frequently
of that class who had been valuable pillars in the house
of God. They were men of intelligence, original and
independent thinkers, who, though not to be moved
by ecclesiastical dictation, yet their own sober reflec-
tions, if left to themselves and treated with respectful
kindness, would be very apt to bring them about right
after a while. And now, Doctor, I don’t know how
the above views will quadrate with editorial judgment
in the premises. JI have, however, ventured the
opinions, and you can do with them as you please,
except that I shall not answer before a committee to
the charge of ‘ inveighing against the discipline.’ ”

¥ He did as he advised others to do; he did not
strive ; he was hard at work. At the camp-meetings
he preached with great power, and blessed revival
influences went with his work. After a happy year
in his new circuit he went to Conference, and was ap-
pointed to Athens and Madison.

At this Conference the South Carolina Conference
was divided, and the Georgia Conference was formed.
He fell, of course, into the latter body. During the
208 The Life and Letters of

summer before the Conference an incident occurred
which he must narrate.

‘“We had a pleasant and, we trust, not unprofitable
year at Greensborough. We had a very good revival
which resulted in a number of conversions and addi-
tions to the Church; and altogether we had a peaceful
and pleasant year. There was a young man in the
village, the son of godly parents, who had just gradu-
ated and returned home. During his college course
he had been wonderfully converted to God, and every
one supposed he would preach. Probably he gave
some intimation that he felt called to that work, but
collegiate life is not precisely the most favorable for
the cultivation of Christian spirituality. Our young
friend grew cold, lost his religious feeling, and by the
time he left college had almost abandoned all expec-
tation of preaching the gospel, and entered a lawyer’s
office as student. I felt deeply impressed that he was
occupying dangerous ground, and determined to seek
a plain, Christian talk with him, hoping that it might
do him some good. The opportunity I sought was
soon afforded me, and I endeavored to improve it
honestly and kindly. I found the matter just as I had
feared ; he had in the earlier days of his Christian ex-
perience felt it his duty to preach, but with the loss
of his religious enjoyments, his convictions of minis-
terial duty had become very feeble, and in accordance
with the wishes of some of his friends, he had resolved
to study law. My young friend was exceedingly
frank in his communication with me, and received all
I said very kindly. Our conversation was close and
honest, but very friendly, and I left him without know-
ing what might be the result. In a week or two, how-
Yames Osgood Andrew. 209

ever, he told me that God sanctified that interview to
his good, and that it had awakened him to a sense of
his real condition and duty, and that from that day
as long as he lived he should devote himself to the
service of God in the itinerant ministry. Many years
are gone since that day, but he has kept his vow, and
few have labored with more ability and success than
he has done. This conversation was probably the de-
ciding incident in his experience. And may it not be
that many valuable young men whom God has called
to the ministry, and who, like the one above named,
lose the power of religion during that trying time
of a young man’s life—his collegiate course—and
‘who might be saved to the Church and the ministry
by timely and faithful kindness on the part of their
pastors and friends, who, in default of this, go into the
secular business of the world, and very frequently are
lost, not only to the pulpit, but to the Church ?”

—e The young law student was, the year after this
reminiscence was sent to the press (1853), made a
Bishop. While the warm-hearted and sagacious An-
drew was sure George Pierce ought to preach, the
preacher in charge of the Apalachee Circuit, John Col-
linsworth, was just as sure he ought not. George was
too airy, as he expressed it. His blue broadcloth
suit was too stylish, and he wore his hair in an un-
Methodistic way. It was, indeed, a blessing to the
Church that James O. Andrew had the heart of the
young man, and that he was himself of stern stuff,
as otherwise the indiscreet severity of the preacher in
charge might have driven him from the field. The
story which Andrew could tell of the trials of the
years before, when the call came to him in the cabin
210 The Life and Letters of

in Elbert, and when he, the main support of the fam-
ily he loved so well, went forth, and the story of how
God had been faithful to his promise and had kept
them from want, was enough, for it was with no self-
ish aim that the young man was seeking, in secular
life, a pecuniary return he could not hope for in the
ministry. —

Seventeen years before, Lovick Pierce had licensed
to preach in the flat woods of Elbert James O. An-
drew, a plain-looking, timid, half-educated boy. Now
that boy was aman among men, and was the pastor of
his family. He had won the love and confidence of
his gifted and pious son, and had led him to take that
step his father had most earnestly desired he should
take. At this time began those tender relations be-
tween James O. Andrew and George F. Pierce which
were never interrupted. Young Pierce was the Tim-
othy to this Paul. He was his colleague, his asso-
ciate, and hiscounsellor. During life Andrew leaned
upon him as upon his second self. The love between
them never knew a lessening.

Bishop Pierce says: ‘My personal acquaintance
with him began while I was yet in my teens, and he was
in the flush of his prime and vigor. He was stationed in
Athens and Greensborough, my native town, in 1829.
I had just returned from school to my father’s house,
and in the secrecy of my own soul was anxiously
resolving, as a question of duty, my call to the minis-
try. My lips were sealed to every human being; I
dwelt alone upon this subject, and had commenced
the study of another profession to rid myself of the
convictions that were pressing me sorely, but this
good man discerned my secret trouble, invited me to
Fames Osgood Andrew. 211

his house, took me into an upper chamber privately
and alone, adroitly drew from me a confession of my
feelings, and then, with kind counsel and tender ex-
hortation, encouraged me to do my duty. Perhaps,
as I then thought, the cast of all my life was deter-
mined by that meeting. At any rate, from that hour,
considering the disparity of our years and of circum-
stances, our future intercourse was intimate, and af-
fectionate, and confiding.”

When the old man, stricken with his last stroke, was
on his death-bed, he asked that George—for he was
never anything else to him—should preach his funeral
sermon.

The Bishop says: ‘‘The Annual Conference was
held that winter at Columbia, S. C. This was an
important session, as it was the last in which the
Georgia and South Carolina preachers met together
as one Conference. The General Conference had au-
thorized the Bishop, if he should judge it proper, to
form another Annual Conference, in the interim, of
the General Conference. Accordingly, at this session
resolutions were introduced requesting the Presiding
Bishop to institute the Georgia Conference. The
proposition gave rise to an animated discussion, but
it was finally carried by a respectable majority,
and the Bishops, acting in accordance with the re-
quest, announced the appointments for the two
Conferences. It was not strange that there should
have been a good deal of feeling on the subject. We
had been so long accustomed to labor together, and
to meet together in an annual session, that the idea
that we should meet no more in that capacity was
necessarily painful. But then, on the other hand,
212 The Life and Letters of

the little one had become a thousand, the once small
band had spread forth numerous branches, and our field
of labor had been so greatly enlarged that it was be-
coming quite inconvenient to meet in one Conference.
The limits of the State of Georgia had been greatly
extended by treaties with the Indians. Florida, too,
had opened a large additional field for the labors of
the members of the Conference, who had early occu-
pied the ground, and were diligently seeking to enter
every open door in order to carry the gospel of the
grace of God to the settlers in these new lands.

‘‘One serious difficulty in the way of a continued
union in the Conference was found in the great dis-
tance which many of the preachers had to travel to
reach the seat of the Annual Conference. Suppose
the Conference was held in Fayetteville or Wil-
mington, or even in Camden: what a journey was it
for the preachers from Pea River or Choctohatchie,
or from the regions around Tallahassee. And be it
remembered we had then no railroads to help us, but.
the preacher had to make his way generally on horse-
back, frequently at considerable expense, and that,
too, to come from pockets very imperfectly replen-
ished. And when to these considerations it is added
that the preachers on these outposts, if they attended
Conference at all, were compelled to lose nearly one-
fourth of the year in traveling to and from Confer-
ence, it is only surprising that the separation was not
earlier effected.

‘‘The division has worked well. Georgia has be-
come quite a large Conference, and the Florida Con-
ference has sprung up quite a vigorous offshoot from
its roots, destined, we trust, to maintain an honorable
James Osgood Andrew. 213

and successful competition with the parent in the race
of well-doing, while noble old South Carolina has lost
nothing of heart, or hope, or usefulness, and although
gradually curtailed of her territory until she has be-
come a compact, snug little Conference, yet still she
stands forth in the van of our glorious battle, and is
emphatically, in all her movements, a bright and stir-
ring example to all her sisters North and South.

‘““At this Conference I was appointed to Athens
and Madison. I was sorry to part with my kind
Greensborough friends, who were endeared to my
heart by very many acts of kindness, but I had long
since learned that it was better to obey than grumble,
so I repaired promptly to my work and found among
my flock in Madison a kindly welcome. Madison
was then a thrifty little village, and there was a re-
spectable society worshiping in what we considered
a pretty decent wooden church.”

His father’s home was almost-in the direct line from
Athens to Madison, and as he lived in Athens and
came to Madison every other Sabbath, he was able to
make a weekly call at the old preacher’s humble cabin.
This was well, for the old soldier was near his end.
He was now seventy-two years of age. As we have
seen, he was a man of very poetic nature, somewhat
moody, perhaps morbidly conscientious. He was one
of those men, not rarely found, who do not fit exactly
into any place—men who are never understood by
those among whom they live. He had the sad faculty
of failing in nearly everything he undertook except in
living an upright Christian life. He had raised a
large family, and they were all Christians. He was
now near his rest, and this spring God gave him sleep.
214 The Life and Letters of

Through God’s good providence, the son was enabled
to reach the dying bed of his dear old father, and he
tells of it in his reminiscences. After the darkness
of the night the day-gleam had burst on the good old
man. John Andrew at last had found a world in
which he was fitted to live.

The Bishop says: ‘‘For several months past his
cough rendered him “unable to preach, and confined
him mostly to the house. On my return from our
last Conference I found him sinking very rapidly, but
his soul was peaceful and happy. He told me that
he had prayed that he might be permitted’to see me
once more, that his petition was granted, and now he
was willing to depart. My duties called me away
from him for a little more than a week, and when I
again visited him he was in the same happy state of
mind, waiting patiently for the change. The morning
subsequent to my arrival he was taken with a violent
fit of coughing which we thought had finished the
struggle, but after some time he revived, although he
could not articulate distinctly for nearly half an hour.
As I sat by him I discovered that he wanted to speak.
I asked him if he wanted anything; he replied,
‘Nothing but Christ. When I have Jesus in my soul
all is well... During the greater part of the day he was
employed in exhortation and in shouting the praises
of God. A few days previous to his death he asked
me to give him the Sacrament. God so far enabled
me to control my feelings as to comply with this dying”
request, and we had a memorable family Sacrament.
My mother and most of the children knelt around, and
we all together for the last time commemorated the
precious love of God to our guilty race. It was a mo-
Fames Osgood Andrew. 215

ment of glorious exultation to my dying father, and
so the good old man passed away. He was buried
near where he had lived, and twenty-five years after-
ward the gentle Mary, his faithful wife, was laid beside
him, and there they sleep.

‘‘During the latter part of the year 1830 my wife
was visited with a long and sore illness, which con-
fined her to her bed for several weeks, and during
which were developed the indications of the fell dis-
ease which several years later carried her to the grave.
It was a melancholy season to me, the more so as I
was compelled frequently to leave her to attend my
appointments at Madison. We were cheered, how-
ever, by the great kindness of the people of Athens,
who suffered us to want for nothing, and by their
kindly sympathies greatly endeared themselves to us.
I shall never forget especially the devotedness of Dr.
Hull, who acted the part, not only of the attentive
and skillful physician, but also that of a kind and un-
tiring and considerate friend. The doctor -still lives,’
but his kind and excellent wife, who shared with him
in attentions to my afflicted household, has many
years since exchanged earth for heaven. And there
was my good friend Asbury Hull, brother of the doc-
tor, and both of them sons of the venerable Hope
Hull, and many others whose names I cannot now
mention, who all showed us much kindness. Many
of them are scattered throughout other regions of the
‘and. Heaven bless them wherever they are.

“ And now the hour approached which was to termi-
nate my pastoral relations to the people of my charge.

 

1He died last year (1881), full of years, and honors, and blessedness,
216 The Life and Letters of

The Conference was to meet in Macon, but such was
the state of Mrs. Andrew’s health, that I feared great-
ly I should not be able to attend it. This would have
been a painful disappointment, as I had always prized
this annual. meeting with fellow-laborers, and up to
that time had never been absent from an Annual Con-
ference from the time of my first connection with the
itinerancy. By the grace of God, however, I was not
disappointed. My wife’s health improved so that she
urged me to go, and the doctor said I might safely
leave. We had, to be sure, rather a rough time for
the journey, in consequence of a considerable fall of
snow, but we reached Macon in safety. It was then
a comparatively small place, just rising into notice.
We had no Bishop, and the Conference chose my
Presiding Elder, Rev. Thomas Samford, for its Presi-
dent. The business progressed pleasantly under his
administration, and at the close my name was an-
nounced for Augusta. I returned home and found
my wife improving, so that in a week or two we were
ready to start for our destined field of labor.

‘We went from Athens to Greensborough, where
we found lodging and a cordial welcome from an old
friend. We also met a carriage in waiting, which our
good friends in Augusta had sent to convey us to that
city. My wife was exceedingly feeble, and a very
frail infant that she had given birth to during her long
illness required the utmost care and tenderness in
handling it, so that altogether it was an arduous task
for ne to convey all safely. Yet, through the provi-
dence of God, we at length reached Augusta, and
with gratitude to God and to the kind friends who
had so bountifully prepared for our reception, we
Fames Osgood Andrew. 217

once more felt ourselves at home in the old Au-
gusta parsonage. And now, before I finally leave my
last year’s work, a word or two about my Presiding
Elder for the last two years. The Rev. Thomas Sam-
ford was a remarkable man in several respects. First,
he was a self-made man, with, I think, but few early
advantages, yet he was a man of great mental ca-
pacity. His sermons were always clear and able ex-
positions of scriptural truth. He often rose in his
pulpit performances to a strain of lofty eloquence, and
was not unfrequently perfectly overwhelming in his
appeals from the sacred desk. He was greatly ad-
mired and beloved by the people of his charge, yet
he was subject to great fluctuation of feeling, and
sometimes at his camp-meetings, where the Presiding
Elder is always expected to take a prominent part in
the work, he would scarcely preach at all if he could
get any sort of an apology of a preacher to fill the
pulpit in his place. This was probably the result of
diffidence, for with: all his pulpit power he was at
best frequently a very diffident man.”

His charge was the same to which he had gone in
1820, and in which he had some hard trials to his
faith, and a glorious triumph. The city had contin-
ued to grow, and the old church on the commons, en-
larged now, was in the heart of the city. There were
in it two hundred and twenty-five white Methodists
and one hundred and seventy-eight colored. The
old, long, unshapely, and unsightly church, with its
high galleries all around, was crowded every Sunday
morning and night, and well filled at three o’clock
Sunday afternoon. The old plan of services was still

kept up: preaching three times on Sunday and on
10
218 The Life and Letters of :

Wednesday night; prayer-meeting on Friday night ;
a meeting of some kind six nights out of seven. Then,
too, the pastorate covered the city and reached to the
outskirts of Hamburgh, at that time a flourishing little
town, and a somewhat threatening rival of Augusta.
Little did the preacher think that was to be his last
pastorate, but so it was.

We have but one letter from him during this year,
and that, of course, was to his dear mother. William,
her youngest son, had charge of the farm. Dear little
Harbert, the baby boy he left in Elbert, was now a
hopeless cripple ; with a grand head and a noble heart,
he had not from his childhood been able to walk a
step; all drawn up by rheumatism, he was preparing
himself now for that vocation in which he was so use-
ful in after-life—the life of a teacher. There was an-
other little girl at the parsonage, a dear little Cathe-
rine, who was not to stay long. Leisure and a
faithful pastor have little to do with each other, and
James O. Andrew was a faithful pastor, so he was
hard at work.

The church of which he had charge was one of the
best of the day. Steady-going old Asaph Waterman
was still there—faithful as of yore, in his amen corner
from October to May, and then in Buncombe till Oc-
tober again. Here fun-loving John Mann, clerk of the
county, manager of estates, with his sweet, quiet little
wife ; Jesse Kent, who sold supplies, made money, gave
it liberally, who said “ Amen” at venture, and murdered
the king’s English, and a group of earnest Christian
women of saintly lives, were among his parishioners.
There was a gallery all around the house crowded
every Sunday with colored people, and every-Sunday
SFames Osgood Andrew. 219

afternoon there was a meeting especially for them.
The climate was enervating, and his health suffered
in the field. .He had promised to visit Clarke and
be at camp-meeting, and carry William his gun,
and see the dear old mother, but I don’t think he
got away this summer. Conference was held in
Augusta, and Elijah Hedding came for the first and
only time he was ever in Georgia to preside over
it.

At this Conference Andrew received the largest
vote of the delegation to the General Conference.
The delegates were James O. Andrew, Samuel K.
Hodges, Ignatius Few, Benjamin Pope, Elijah Sin-
clair, William J. Parks, Lovick Pierce, Thomas Sam-
ford. Andrew was returned to Augusta, and George ~
F, Pierce, in the second year of his ministry, was sent
with him as his assistant. Immediately after Confer-
ence adjourned he went with Bishop Hedding and
Professor Parks on a visit to the South Carolina Con-
ference, and at the missionary meeting he made the
_address of which Bishop Wightman tells in the follow-
ing sketch:

‘« At the ensuing session of the Conference, held at
Darlington early in 1832, a decided and memorable
impulse was given to the missionary spirit, particu-
larly among the preachers, by a speech delivered at
the anniversary of the Missionary Society, by the
Rev. James O. (now Bishop) Andrew. Professor
Parks, of Virginia, was in attendance at the Confer-
ence; his fame as an orator had preceded him, and
the highest expectations were excited at the announce-
ment that he would address the meeting. After the
usual preparatory exercises, Mr. Andrew was intro-
220 The Life and Letters of

duced to the meeting, and read the following reso-
lution :

‘««That while we consider false views of religion as
being every way mischievous, and judge from the past
that much evil has resulted from that cause among the
slave population of this country, we are fully per-
suaded that it is not only safe, but highly expedient
to society at large, to furnish the slaves as fully as
possible with the means of true scriptural instruction
and the worship of God.’

‘‘We have heard many good and clever speeches
in our time; a few, withal, that deserved to be called
great. But foremost in our recollection stands the
remarkable speech made by Bishop Andrew on that
occasion.

‘‘He drew a picture of the irreligious, neglected
plantation negro, Claude-like in the depth of its tone
and coloring. He pointed out his degradation, ren-
dered but the deeper and darker from the fitful and
‘transient flashings up of desires which felt after God—
scintillations of the immortal blood-bought spirit with-
in him, which ever and again gleamed amidst the
darkness of his untutored mind. He pointed out the
adaptation of the Gospel to the extremest cases. Its
recovering power and provisions were adequate to the
task of saving from sin and hell all men, of all condi-
tions of life, in all stages of civilization. He pointed.
to the converted negro, the noblest prize of the Gos-
pel, the most unanswerable proof of its efficiency.
There he was, mingling his morning songs with the
matin-chorus of the birds, sending up his orisons to
God under the light of the evening star; contented
with his lot, cheerful in his labors, submissive for con-
Fames Osgood Andrew. 221

science sake to plantation discipline, happy in life,
hopeful in death, and from his lowly cabin carried at
last to the angels in Abraham’s bosom.

‘Who could resist such an appeal, in which argu-
ment was fused with perfect eloquence? The speech
carried by storm the whole assembly. ‘Ah,’ said a
gentleman, high in political life, ‘I have heard Henry
Clay in his happiest moods, but he is nothing as an
orator to Mr. Andrew.’ Professor Parks dexterously
excused himself from making a speech when his turn
came round.”

His labors in Augusta were very greatly lessened
by his young colleague. Although he had been a
preacher only one year, and was but twenty-one
years old, he was the wonder and the delight of the
city. His fame had already filled the State, and now
crowds flocked to hear him. There was one person
whose presence embarrassed him. That one was his
senior. To preach before him was a trial, and for a
. few times the older preacher yielded to his wish and
retired, but then he told him he would do so no more.
Bishop Pierce says of his colleague’s personal appear-
ance :

“Bishop Andrew’s head was phrenologically fine,
but the features of his face were broad and strong, in-
clining to ‘coarseness; and the solemn gravity of his
‘look when in repose, or when performing any minis-
terial service, would have misled an unpracticed-eye
in judging of his character. A stranger would never
dream that that rugged countenance could soften into
beauty, grow radiant with humor, and beam with
magnetic love; but.as the brightest waters gush from
among the craggy rocks, and the sweetest flowers
222 ‘The Life and Letters of

bloom amid the-thorns, so he could wither with his
rebuke and petrify with his frown, and awe with his
dignity, and startle with his voice of authority. He
was, both by nature and by grace, gentle as a nurse.
cherishing her children, soft as a dove cooing to its
mate, meek as a Christian praying for his enemies.”

Such was his appearance then. In his family the
young preacher lived. Andrew had no son, and
George was son and brother to him. He lavished his.
love upon his young colleague, and the young preacher
regarded him with the warm, trusting affection of a
younger brother, and his admiration for the brilliant
preaching of his colleague was immense.

He says of him: ‘‘ As a preacher he was somewhat
unique. He had no model. He stood alone. He was
original, not so much by creative power as by his pecu-
liar style of appropriation. He never dwelt in propo-
sitions ; he had nothing to do with divisions—firstly,
secondly, thirdly, and lastly. He dealt with one great
leading idea, and that idea he made to revolve upon its
own axis, until every spot of its surface was bathed in
sunlight. His powers of amplification were amazing ;
and on some of his favorite themes, when his mind was
free, the opening of his mouth was like the letting out of
many waters, nor was it a thin sheet turning into spray
and descending in mist, but a thundering volume that
rushed and roared and swept on resistlessly. Those
who heard him only in the latter years of his life will
regard what I am saying as extravagant, but I know
whereof I affirm. Making hima Bishop ruined him as
a preacher. Soon after his election he conceived the
idea that he must be an example of extreme simpli-
city, for the benefit of the younger brethren in the
James Osgood Andrew. 223

ministry, lest, I suppose, by undertaking to. imitate
him, they should render themselves ridiculous; and
hence he changed his style; he compelled his mind
to work unnaturally ; he cut off the inspiration that
used to bear him up and carry him along quite above
the level of common men. In his palmiest days there
was always a peculiarity in Bishop Andrew’s preach-
ing that distinguished him from all others. The first
half of his sermons was always the best—often lofty,
grand, imperial in the range of thought, the sweep of
imagination, the wealth of words. The latter half was
commonly colloquial, simple, and sometimes common-
place. It seemed to me that in prayer and medita-
tion and communion with God he had ascended some
lofty elevation, some bright mount of vision; and
when he entered the pulpit and announced his text,
he launched out on bold, broad pinions, like an angel
flying through the midst of the heavens; and by and
by he grew weary and commenced to descend by gra-
dations, until at last he walked upon the earth like an
ordinary mortal. Here is the explanation of the com-
parative feebleness of his latter years. His mental
action depended upon his muscular energies, and when
the high-wrought tension of his system gave way his
mind let down, and, like a motive-power in machinery,
ceased to operate because the fuel was consumed.
But those to whom he ministered in the days of his
strength will never forget it.”

His preaching was eminently practical. He was
intensely in earnest. He wished to save souls and he
aimed right at that point. He was not a speculative
philosopher nora subtle theologian. Hewasa Chris-
tian minister whose knowledge of positive Christian
224 The Life and Letters of

truth enabled him with authority to present it and en-
force it. He ‘was emphatically a revivalist—not sen-
sational in methods, but still less the slave of routine.
There was a revival in every work of which he ever
had charge after the first one, and after he became a
Bishop he was a most effective worker in such meet-
ings. To exhort, pray, sing, or talk to a mourner, he
did with the same efficiency.
In February he wrote his mother :

“ AucusTA, February 27, 1832.
‘‘My BELOVED MOTHER:

“T had expected before this time to have visited
you again, but various circumstances have prevented
the accomplishment of thisexpectation. My repeated
attacks of illness last fall compelled me to neglect my
people so mueh, and my approaching departure for
Philadelphia will probably detain me from them for two
months. All these circumstances have made me feel
that I ought not toleave them until that time. I earn-
estly hope that your health is better than when Har-
bert wrote to Amelia, and that you are all getting
along comfortably. I have requested Brother Pierce
to pay into your hands $20, which he was to collect
for me in Athens. I thought you might need it to
purchase flour, or some little matters which I had
not furnished you with. I hope you have received it
and that it will be a seasonable supply. I received
for you from thé Fund of Special Relief at the Confer-
ence $40, and Brother Samford requested me to pre-
sent you with $10. For the articles which I sent
you by Mr. Appling I paid between $25 and $30.
I paid for your pork $45, and I have sent by Brother
Yames Osgood Andrew. 225

Graves, ‘to pay for shingling the shed, $11.25. Ihave
merely inserted the foregoing statement that you
might understand what was received for you by me,
‘and how it has been expended, and I have now only
to add on this point that if at any time you need
anything let me know it, and if in my power you
shall be supplied. Say to William that I am glad to
hear he is getting along so well with his farm, and
wish him a prosperous crop year. With respect to
myself, my health is not entirely good, though it is
greatly improved, and I trust that my northern trip,
with God's blessing, will quite restore me. Amelia’s
health is moderate; little Catharine has been very
sick,:but is now much mended. The rest are well.
I am endeavoring to be a better man and more
efficient minister, and, I trust, am making some prog-
ress, but oh, how slow! Lord, quicken me. In the
church here we ‘have nothing special; congregations
large, and George Pierce wonderfully popular. He
is, indeed, a first-rate young man.

‘‘T hope, by God's blessing, to visit you all next
summer. I trust that God will have you all in His
choly keeping, and that His grace and peace may be
your portion continually. Amelia has a large school,
which keeps her quite busy. She unites in affection-
ate remembrance to you and all the girls, including’
Matilda and Lucy, as also to Harbert and William,
and so do all our little girls. Tell Harbert and Wil-
liam that if I have time I will write to them both while
at the North. And now, my dearest mother, adieu.
May Heaven’s choicest blessings be yours is the
prayer of Your affectionate son,

“James O. ANDREW.”
10*
226 The Life and Letters of

He left for the General Conference which was to
meet in Philadelphia early in April. He could not,
strange as it seemed to him that it should be so, dis-
guise from himself the fact that he was now a leader
among his brethren. He felt the missionary fire burn-
ing within him and he was ready to go to Africa,
which was at that time the most promising missionary
field of the Church.

Amelia writes to his mother after his departure
thus :

“ AuGcusTA, May 7, 1832.
‘“My DEAR MOTHER:

“‘T do not know, but you may think an apology
necessary for my long silence, but I really believe if
you knew all the circumstances which surround me,
you would at least throw the veil of charity over my ©
supposed fault. As you know, I am confined nearly
all day in school, and at present we are painting and
papering our house, which, in addition to the quan-
tity of work which you know I must always have to
do, necessarily keeps me very much engaged, and I
thought I would delay writing until I heard from Mr.
Andrew, which I did on Saturday evening. He wrote
from New York, where he arrived in safety and good
spirits, on April 26th, after rather a pleasant passage
of a week; he said nothing of his health, but I infer,
from his letter, that it was good. I begin almost to
fear that we shall not see him as soon as we hope to
do, for I am informed that even some of the Northern
preachers are willing to allow ONE Southern Bishop,
and if so, I fear he may at least stand as good a chance
as any other man. I try to commit all my care into
Fames Osgood Andrew. 227

the hands of Him who is able to save to the utter-
most all who come unto Him. But what would you
think if, instead of being made a Bishop, he should
be sent on a foreign mission? The Bishops have long
desired a missionary to go to Africa, and it appears a
difficult task to find a suitable man. Mr. Andrew has
had serious thoughts upon the subject. I know not
that he will feel at liberty to offer, but if it should be
proposed to him by the Bishops, I am almost certain
he would not draw back. I told him, before he left
home, to act as he thought right. To be sure,: it
would be the greatest trial I ever had, and particu-
larly to take my daughters there; but I know he will
do nothing but what he firmly believes his duty, and
if he thinks ¢/at is, then let him go.

““ George Pierce says he is determined to go with
him if the Church should approve of him. It is a seri-
ous subject, and you may never be put to this trial;
but if the Lord should use him as His instrument of
establishing a church in that degraded country, I
should rejoice to bear with him the labors and trials
of a missionary’s life. I know that nothing short of a
firm persuasion that the Lord has specially called him
to that important work would induce him to engage
init. Let us pray for the Divine direction in this, as
in all other cases. We are all in health. Our religious
prospects are but tolerable, though our congregations
are very good. George really acquits himself well ;
his preaching is with power, and his conduct as cir-
cumspect as an old man’s. He appears to feel the
weight of his present charge greatly.

“The children unite with me in affectionate re-
gards to yourself and all the family. Tell Harbert I
228 The Life and Letters of ~

will write him the next time I hear from Mr. Andrew.
I rernain, my dear mother,
“Your affectionate daughter,
“A.A, ANDREW.”

The Episcopal office is not considered so mich of
an affliction in this year of grace 1882 as it was in
those days fifty years ago; but there are few wives
who love as Amelia Andrew loved, who are willing
‘even now to see their husbands in an office which
makes them widows and their children orphans. She
was ready, however, to give him up if need be; nay,
‘more, she was willing to go with him to Africa, and
to die with him there.

Mr. Andrew, with his companions, went by water to
‘New York and thence to Philadelphia, and was there
in time for the roll-call of Martin Ruter, Secretary, on
Tuesday, May Ist.

Of all the delegates (and it was a large Conference)
two only from the South are living now, H.. H.
Kavanaugh and Robert Paine, both for a long time
Bishops of the Methodist Episcopal Church South.

‘Mr. Andrew was placed on the Committee on Epis-
copacy. The session was unexciting, except when
the question of ‘‘ How many new Bishops should be
chosen and who should they be,”’ was considered.

The Committee on Episcopacy reported in favor of
three. The Conference decided to elect two. Perhaps
there was no man in the body who had less desire to
be a Bishop than James O. Andrew, and perhaps no
man who had less expectation of being chosen to tlie
office.

He did not believe he was qualified for it. He
Fames Osgood Andrew. 229

dreaded its responsibilities. He could not reconcile
himself ‘to long absence from a home he loved as few
men have ever loved one, and from a wife and little
girls so dependent upon him. Samuel K. Hodges
‘was the first to approach him on the subject. He -
candidly told Hodges his objections, and refused to
be a candidate. Hodges insisted, and among other
reasons urged that peace and harmony would be se-
‘cured by his election. At last he reluctantly con-
‘sented, and was triumphantly elected on the first bal-
lot. Dr. Bangs said he was put forth as the Southern
‘candidate, and a reason for his election was that he
was not connected with slavery. So said the reply to
the protest. So said Alfred Griffith. And the opinion
has been long held that he was elected mainly because
he was not a slave-holder ; that there were men from
the South who were more in favor with the General
Conference, and who would have been elected but
that they were disqualified by being slave-owners;
and there has been more than an intimation that he
knew this, and that his friends urged the fact that he
held no slaves as a ground upon which his claims to
the Northern vote rested, and thus secured it, and that
his becoming a slave-holder after this time was in
violation of an understanding, if not a contract. The
reply to the protest asserts this, and supports its as-
sertion by the statement that Bishop Andrew said
that it was his poverty and not his ability which made
him a Bishop. This statement of the case has some
appearance of sypport from the remark of the Bishop
that he was put forth in the interests of peace ; but it
is not true that he was elected because he was not
‘a slave-owner ; it is not true thatif he had been in
230 The Life and Letters of

1832 what he was in 1844 he would have been cer-
tainly defeated for the Episcopal office. Bishop Hed-
ding refused to concur with his colleagues in sending
William Capers, a slave-holder, to the Wesleyan Con-
ference. The year afterward the General Conference
elected Capers a delegate, and he was long after this
a Missionary Secretary. The General Conference of
1836 was so opposed to abolitionism that it con-
demned it by positive resolutions. The Southern
delegates were almost as numerous in 1832 as the
Northern, and, with a few votes from the West, could
have elected any man that the South put forward.
The peace interests which Bishop Andrew was elected
to secure were not between the slavery and anti-slavery
men; they were between opposing sections of the
South itself, and between the High and Low Church
parties. The Bishop was to be elected ; he must come
from the South ; there was no man so entirely unob-
jectionable as James O. Andrew to all parties. He
was young, vigorous, peerless as a preacher, of spot-
less character, moderate in his opinions, modest, re-
tiring, and yet courageous; he had been in the Gen-
eral Conference, but in the heated strife of 1820 and
1824. had so borne himself as not to incur the en-
mity of the progressives ;.add to this that he did not
hold slaves, and might never do so, and he was a
candidate presenting an array of strength that ren-
dered him at once the choice of those who desired the
election of a man from the South.

No man has ever had the temerity to assert that he
was pledged never to hold slaves, or that he had
ever expressed himself as opposed to slave-holding in
the South. William Winans, who desired the election
James Osgood Andrew. 231

of William Capers, came to Mr. Andrew and told him
frankly that the fact of his not owning slaves was se-
curing him votes, and that he would not vote for him.
Mr. Andrew told Mr. Winans plainly that his views on
the subject of slave-holding were the same with those
he (Winans) held. He never gave a pledge nor allowed
one to be given, nor was any one under misconception
as to how he stood. If any man was so intensely anti-
slavery as to cast a vote for him merely because he
was not a slave-holder, and was under the impression
that he was opposed to slave-owning, the blindness
was wilful.

The fact of his not owning slaves may have secured
him some votes, but it did not elect him. He was
chosen because of his high qualification for the office
to which he was elevated. He was not pledged to
any party. He took his office on the broad platform
of the Discipline. He knew the opposition of a very
large party in the South as well as the North to the
holding of slaves, and he respected that prejudice and
never became possessed of a slave by purchase nor
held one by preference. He could have been easily
elected if he had held slaves in case the South had
voted for him in a body, with the aid of a few votes
from the West and Middle States.

We have dwelt at some length on this rather im-
portant point, since it has its bearing on a matter yet
to be discussed.”

 

1 After this section was written I forwarded it to Bishop Paine, who
was a member of that General Conference, and received from him the
following reply :

‘* ABERDEEN., MIss., June 7, 1882.
** My Dear BROTHER SMITH:
‘¢ Since my return from General Conference 1 have been too unwell
232 The Life and Letters of

Dr. Pierce says: ‘He was elected and ordained a
Bishop in Philadelphia, May, 1832, receiving a higher
vote than John Emory—made a Bishop at the:same time
—who was deservedly regarded as the master-mind of
his'generation. J mention this for a wise.reason in this
brief sketch of Bishop Andrew’s Episcopal record. The
day after his election, I said to -him as my protégé, ‘1
congratulate you on the honor done you in this:elec-
‘tion to the highest order of confidence and trust known
in our Church.’ To this, with quivering lips and tear-
ful eyes, he replied: ‘It is not my merit that has
made me a Bishop, but my poverty.’ Meaning, really,
that it was the accident of poverty preventing him
from owning a slave which would have rendered him
‘ineligible according to abolition decree. I wish to
‘say here, as ‘this may go down to posterity, what will
be just to both sides in so far-as Andrew’s Episcopacy
is involved. As he admitted, if poverty had not been
in his way he would of course have owned one or two

 

‘to do-much or look-up old documents, but if I get able will do better
and write you,

“T think your MS, is right as to Bishop Andrew, and requires no
important correction, JI return it lest you may need it before I can
give it the attention wished for. - I concur with your representation of
the Bishop’s character and views. I never knew a purer or more
transparent man.

‘* As Chairman of the Committee on Episcopacy in 1844, and of the
Special Committee of Nine, I had much to say and do with Bishop An-
drew about his connection with slavery, and having talked with him and
voted for him in 1832, I think I know all the facts to be as I now un-
derstand youtorelate them. The encomium bestowed upon him by Dr.
Olin in 1844 was ¢rue, But I cannot write more now—am suffering too
much; but if-I find my private journal of 1832 will try again.

‘* Yours truly,
“R, PAINE.”
Fames Osgood Andrew. 233

family slaves. But Bishop Andrew was not a pro-
slavery man without a much stricter moral view of
slavery than slave-holders generally observed. And
as to his electors, I say for them that while many of
them would not have cast a vote for him if he had
owned a slave, still he was wrong, in some degree, in
resting his election on the ground of his poverty. He
was elected on the ground of a well-defined capacity,
of sound, strong mind, and of suitable executive will.
Bishop Andrew’s election to the Episcopal office was
no sham on the part of his electors. His having no
slaves was a fortunate fact for him, I allow; but I
maintain that it was the merit of his life and the great-
ness of his mind that gained for him his Episcopal
office.” s

No man was more grieved than himself at his
election. The hardest appointment he ever had in
his life, even the Charleston District, when sick,
moneyless, without a house or furniture, he went to a
work he knew would not support him, was not so
afflictive as this election. To some men it would not
have been so; to him it was so, and he would gladly
have laid down the office at any time for the humblest
circuit in his Conference. And so with his dear wife.
‘Grateful as she was at his progress, joyous as any wife
must have been at the place he had won by his own
sturdy efforts, she was not the less afflicted at the pros-
pect of long, dreary days of absence from him, for
she knew him too well not to know that if he became
a Bishop @ Bishop he would be. And then how,
he thought, could he meet the demands of the office—
how little was he qualified for it by nature, and how
limited were his attainments. All his colleagues, save
234 The Life and Letters of

Emory, were older than himself, and Emory, highly
gifted and long a leader, had all that wealth and posi-
tion and high culture could give.

Andrew was' always self-distrustful and timid, and
while he could not feel that he was justifiable in de-
clining the place to which he was chosen, he was bur-
dened at the prospect before him. In his reminis-
cences, however, he tells of the eventful Conference :

“‘T have said in a former number that I had a very
indistinct recollection of the doings of the General
Conference of 1832. There is one subject, however,
connected with their doings, of which I have a very
distinct recollection. In consequence of the death of
Bishop George, and the increasing infirmities of Bishop
McKendree, it was determined to elect two additional
Superintendents during the session of the General
Conference. This resolution, of course, gave rise to
many speculations and nominations, and I was given
to understand by some of my friends that my name
would be brought forward as a candidate for the office.
This announcement filled me with a good deal of anx-
iety. WhenI considered the weighty responsibilities
involved in the office of a Methodist Bishop, and then
measured these by my own qualifications, I shrank
from it, but I could scarcely persuade myself that the
Conference would elect me, and this conviction, or
perhaps I should call it hope, was very materially in-
creased by the following circumstance. It was an-
nounced that I was to preach on the succeeding Sab-
bath, I think in St. George’s church. Thither I re-
paired at the appointed hour, with a mind utterly con-
fused, and with that sort of paralyzing influence on all
the faculties of mind and heart which is a sure fore-
Fames Osgood Andrew. 235

runner of failure. And when I arose in the pulpit
and surveyed the congregation, and saw on all sides
of me the members of the General Conference from
East, West, North, and South staring at me, I felt that
i was to preach a trial sermon, for the most of them
had been drawn thither by the singular announce-
ment that one of the candidates for the Episcopacy
was to fill the pulpit at that hour.

‘* Well, I took my text and began, and what then?
Why, I made a glorious failure. My friends were
completely chapfallen, and as I gazed on the counte-
nances of those who were strangers to me, the ex-
pression seemed to be, ‘ He won’t do for a Bishop,’ in
which I was most heartily disposed to concur. The
next day I met some of my friends, and the truth is I
was afraid to look them in the face, their counte-
nances seeming considerably changed since I met
them last. ‘ Well,’ said I, ‘I hope you are satisfied
now, and will let me remain as I am,’ and I really
supposed the sermon had destroyed all my prospects
for the Episcopacy ; but whether my election resulted
from the testimony of some of my more partial friends,
who told them the sermon in question was not a fair
specimen and that I could preach a more favorable
one, or from some other cause, I know not, yet some
days after, when the election for two Bishops came
on, Dr. John Emory and myself were elected at the
first balloting.

“« This was a trying period of my life. Should I ac-
cept the appointment thus tendered me? This was a
grave question. On the one hand I was not insensi-
ble to this mark of confidence on the part of the
Church, and I confess I felt gratified that it had been
236 The Life and Letters of

bestowed so unanimously. On the other hand, in
addition to the deep sense of the weight of responsi-
bility of the office, and my inadequacy to meet the
obligation it imposed, I felt that, in the language of
Bishop Soule on a similar occasion, from the moment
I accepted it I was to regard, insome sense, my wife
a widow and my children fatherless. I loved home ;
perhaps few men have a keener relish for domestic
enjoyments than myself. The duties of the Episco-
pacy, I knew full well, would makea sad breach in what
I regarded the chief of earthly pleasures—the society
of wife and children. After carefully, and, I trust,
prayerfully weighing the. matter, I finally concluded—
as I had always regarded myself in some sort as a
child of Providence, having consecrated myself to the
services of the Church of God, and as the voice of
Providence now seemed tocall me to these new du-
ties and responsibilities, and that without any agency
of my own—that it was my duty to accept the office,
and I accordingly signified my acceptance, and in due
time Dr. Emory and myself were set apart, by the im-
position of hands, to the office and work of Bishops in
the Methodist Episcopal Church.

‘(A few days ‘subsequently the Conference closed,
and we were wending our way homeward. From
Philadelphia to Baltimore I had the pleasure of con-
versing with the venerable McKendree. I stated to
the Bishop that I had.been unexpectedly called to an
office for the duties of which I felt myself very badly
qualified, and requested from him such suggestions as
to my conduct and principles in this new position as
his age, wisdom, and long experience might suggest
to him-as the most important for me to regard. The
Fames Osgood Andrew. 237

substance of that conversation I shall never forget.
After some appropriate and fatherly advice as to the
importance of maintaining deep personal piety, he
closed with these words: ‘James, I have but little more
to say to you, nor is it necessary. I will only say this:
that while in the discharge of the duties of your office,
carefully avoid responsibilities which do not belong to
you; be sure you never shrink from any which legiti-
mately belongs to your position, and never forget that
he who, from any consideration whatever, shrinks
from the responsibilities which appropriately belong
to his office, assumes the most fearful of all responst-
bilities.’ The venerable man closed, but the impres-
sion made upon me by those words has never been
erased, and often since that hour when I have been
placed in circumstances of painful trial, when my own
ease and comfort has urged me to shrink, how the
words of that venerable and time-honored servant of
God sounded in my ears !

“When I reached home I found my wife ready with
cheerfulness to meet any additional privation which
my new work might devolve upon her. ‘From the
time of our marriage,’ said she, ‘I have never been
willing for you to have asettled home for your family,
believing that you would be more useful to hold your-
self in readiness to move to any part of the work; but
circumstances are changed. I think it is now time
that you procure a permanent home for your wife
and children.’ To this reasoning there could be no
valid objection ; and accordingly it was decided that I
must seek a home for my family. But the decision
was one thing and the carrying it into effect another.
How was I to get a home? I had no means with
238 The Life and Letters of

which to procure one; for though I had been a trav-
eling preacher for many years, and had filled a fair
share of what were regarded lucrative appointments,
I had not saved any money. I had barely been able
to make both ends meet, and now I was to prepare
for housekeeping, without means to purchase home or
furniture ; and then where should that home be estab-
lished? These were all grave questions, to which the
answers seemed not so easy. I was invited by my old
friends in Savannah to make that city my headquarters.
On the other hand, my friends in Augusta seemed
determined I should not leave them, and furnished an
argument of great strength in a subscription of nearly
two thousand dollars. This was, in my circumstances,
a decisive argument, especially as I supposed that Au-
gusta was as suitable a point as any in view of the char-
acter of my work. Accordingly Augusta was settled
on as the place of my residence, and a very comforta-
ble and pleasant house and lot was secured for me.
Well now, for the first time since our marriage, we had
a home of our own and might have felt independent ;
but, alas! that home was not entirely paid for. The
house and lot cost $3,000. The brethren in Augusta
had done well, and perhaps could hardly be expected
todo more. True, the brethren in other portions of
the State and in Carolina had promised to do some-
thing clever to start me in the world, but the returns
from these sources came in slowly, and the idea of
having a note in bank was to me perfectly alarming.
I think I received from Carolina somewhere about
$100, obtained mainly from the Black Swamp Cir-
cuit, through the kind exertions of the Rev. W. W.
King, and something from Georgetown, through the
James Osgood Andrew. 239

kindness, I’think, of Brother Betts. I also received a
small amount from Savannah; but, after all, there was
a deficiency of several hundred dollars. In order to en-
able me to pay this sum, as well as to procure the
means of subsisting my family and procuring the neces-
sary furniture, my wife took a school, which aided us
very materially. Finally, after all we could muster we
were considerably in arrears on that note in bank, and
T hardly know how we should have got safely through
but that, during the next year, Brother Elijah Sin-
clair left me to fill his place in Augusta while he at-
tended several camp-meetings in the upper part of the
State, where the liberality of our friends furnished him
with some five or six hundred dollars, which about
enabled me to square up matters for the house and
-lot. And now, as I am on this money subject, it may
be well to say that the appropriations for the support
of Bishops’ families were, at that time, made by a com-
mittee of the Conference in whose limits the Bishop
resided, and the money so appropriated was drawn
from the funds of the General Book Concern. Accord-
ingly, at the next General Conference a committee of
that body allowed for the support of my family $600.
I leave my readers to judge how much money I was
likely to save out of that sum after supporting my
family in the city of Augusta,”
The Life and Letters of

CHAPTER VI.
EPISCOPAL LIFE IN AUGUSTA.
1832-1836.

First Four Years of Episcopal Work.—Home Purchased in Augusta.—
First Tour.—Camp-meeting in Clarke.—Journey to Tennessee.—To
Mississippii—Alabama Conference Organized.—Georgia Conference
at La Grange.—South Carolina.—Home Again, —Visit to Florida.
—Georgia Conference.— With Emory ‘at Washington. — Northern
Tour in 1834.—Again in 1835.—Bishop Simpson's Letter.—General
Conference. at Cincinnatii-Removal from Augusta to Chestnut
Grove. ©

HEN the time came that he must leave home
on his first tour, which was to take him to
tue far West, he made arrangements to go to Clarke
County to see his mother and attend the Clarke Camp-
meeting. Nearly twenty years before the mother
had seen her timid boy, on his little black pony, ride
away from the cabin door in Elbert for his first circuit,
and now Bishop Andrew, driving his great bay horse
Colonel, comes to her again. He was her James yet;
he never became anything more to her. Surely no
mother ever had a nobler son, and no son, he said
-to the end, ever had a lovelier mother.

It was camp-meeting time in old Clarke just fifty
years ago. Then the hills were not worn out, and
great plantations had not taken the place of small
farms, and gangs of negro slaves the places of the
Fames Osgood Andrew. 241

white yeomanry. The Watkinsville Camp-meeting was
a great attraction, and when it was known that Bishop
Andrew was to be there, what a multitude would
come! We must pause a moment to get a view of
that camp-meeting—for camp-meetings have changed.
since 1809.

In a great grove of fine old oaks the large taber-
nacle had been erected, with wooden tents all around.
Before the Sunday comes great crowds are already
here, but on this day, long before the eight-o’clock
service, the crowds come pouring in—men and women
on horseback, in old-time gigs, in Dearborn and Jersey
wagons, in great leather-swung close carriages, and in
ox-carts. From Athens, ten miles away, from the coun-
try around, they are flocking to camp-meeting. Before
eight o’clock the seats are filled. Crowds are around
the tabernacle. The preacher and official members
fill the altar. The dear old sisters, with their split-
bottomed chairs, are sitting close up. The horn—no
tin trumpets then—the horn now sends out its mellow
note. The preacher’s tent is closed, and every man
to his knees. The ‘‘ Amen” and deep groan, and now
and then the ‘‘ Bless the Lord,” tell of the feelings of.
the worshippers, and then William J. Parks, the
Presiding Elder, with his keen eye, his Indian-like
look, has gone forward to the stand; and now comes
Uncle Andrew’s great son James. His face evinces
the depth of his feeling, and as he bows in the little
box pulpit to pray, there is prayer in his heart, one
may be sure. He arises from his knees and the chorister
strikes up a song—perhaps it is ‘‘ Come, thou fount of
every blessing,” with the charus, ‘‘Lord, revive
us”—and two thousand voices join in the melody.

Il
242 The Life and Letters of

Behind the preacher is a vast sea of black faces,
and in front of him thousands of white ones. How
he preached in those days! ‘‘ He was, indeed,” said
the Presiding Elder of that district, ‘‘a grand
-camp-meeting preacher.” It was no short half hour’s
colloquy, but for near two hours, with a torrent of
eloquent speech, he swept on, while Mary Andrew,
the gentle mother, looking up and quietly enjoying,
blesses God that He called her son to the great work
twenty years before. It was a joyous time, but he
must leave them for his tour.

Poor Colonel! The people were so glad to see the
master that they foundered the horse, and John W.
Graves, great-hearted as well as great in body, fur-
nished the Bishop with another, and Lovick Thomas
consented to go with him, and so he went on his way
to the West.

The travelers were soon in the Cherokee nation,
and a few days’ travel brought them close to the maun-
tains. They spent a night near where Jasper, in
Pickens County, now is, and traveled a half day
farther on, when young Thomas missed his pocket-
book and.was compelled to return and search for it,
so the Bishop rode on alone. He says:

‘‘T crossed a rather noisy stream which was appro-
priately named ‘ Talking Rock,’ and journeyed on,
aiming for the Coosawattee town as my stopping-
place for the night. At length dusk began to approach ;
still I hoped to finish my journey before the darkness
fairly set in, when I came upon two wagons firmly
stalled, with no prospect of escape for the night; the
road was so narrow-that there was no possibility of
passing on either side. Now, what was to be done? I
Fames Osgood Andrew. 243

stood for some tite undecided as to my course ; mean-
while a troop of noisy Indians passed me. They evi-
dently had been doing more than tasting whiskey, and
were ripe for mischief. Fora moment I felt a sugges-
tion of fear, but it was momentary. They encountered
me about half way up the hill, but none of them
offered me any interruption save one or two who
asked me for tobacco, and as many pronounced
whiskey very distinctly. So I was clear of the In-
dians. But what was to be done with my trunk and
sulky? I finally resolved to commit them to the
care of the strange wagoners and proceed myself to
Bell’s at the Coosawattee and return in the morning
for them, the wagoners assuring me that they would
take good care of them, and they had no doubt, when
daylight aided them, they would be able to get the
sulky into the road in traveling plight. It had now
been quite dark for some time and was raining, and
the road was in no good condition for my walk to
Bell’s ; however, fixing up the harness as well as I
could, I took my horse’s bridle and led him to my inn
for the night. Mr. Bell and his wife were half, or
quadroon, Cherokees, and seemed to be clever people.
They treated me very well, and next morning I sent
back to the wagoners and received all safe and sound.

““I crossed the Coosawattee at this point—a most
beautiful stream—and rode on to Judge Martin’s
through a splendid body of land, and from thence
through some fine looking country, till toward even-
‘ing I came to the house of Mr. McNair, an honest,
industrious, and kind-hearted Scotchman, whose wife,
a half-breed Cherokee, was educated at the Moravian
Mission at Spring Place, formerly under the care of
244 The Life and Letters of

Rev. Mr. Gambold. She seemed to be a most ex-
cellent woman, tolerably intelligent and deeply pious.
When she ascertained my character she appeared all
anxiety to make me as happy as possible. Mine host
seemed a prosperous man, living in a good brick
house, with a good farm and plenty of the substantials
of life about him. The next morning I started again
alone, and, after a weary ride over hill and dale, some
time before night I reached Bligh’s Ferry and put up
with the owner ofthe ferry (Bligh), a white man with
a full-blooded Cherokee wife, who seemed in no very
pleasant humor ; whether it was her nature, or whether
the sight of a white man and a Georgian had a ten-
dency to acidify the sweetness of her temper, I cannot
say. However, after I had been at my inn an hour
or two, who should ride up but my missing friend of
the lost pocketbook. He had succeeded in-recovering
the lost treasure, but it had cost him nearly a day’s
ride to accomplish it, and by hard riding had overtaken
me just as I had reached the edge of the Indian Ter-
ritory. Of our night’s lodging it is useless to speak ;
an epicure would have found some cause of com-
plaint with our fare, but we were plain, hungry travel-
ers. There was enough of it and we ate our share.
Mine host was himself quite attentive, and seemed
anxious to make us comfortable; and we felt inclined
to take him at his word.

The next morning we crossed the Tennessee River
at the mouth of the Hiawassee. I believe the town of
Harrison now stands somewhere near the place where:
I crossed the Tennessee. We now directed our course
through the mountains toward the town of McMin-
ville. Our road was rugged enough; however, we
SFames Osgood Andrew, 245

managed to ascend the Cumberland Mountains and
found lodging at the cabin of a hale, hearty-looking
old man, who seemed industrious and clever. We
had plenty of very plain, substantial fare, to which we
did ample justice ; especially as our host, I presume
in honor of our visit, robbed a bee-hive, thus furnish-
ing our table with a plate of the most delicious honey-
comb. To be sure, we had not the benefit of candle-
light, which might have been very pleasant; but then
a torch stuck in the jamb of the chimney, or some
grease in a broken bowl, with a little wick in it, made
an admirable substitute, and enabled us to find the
way to our mouths, as well as to our beds in the
corner of the room, without any difficulty. We talked
of religion and had family prayers, and, on the
whole, I have not often met a man who seemed to
be more happy and contented than my old friend of
the mountain cabin.

“The following evening, after a pretty rough ride,
we reached the pleasant village of McMinville and
found comfortable quarters at a hotel, which were
doubly pleasant after nearly a week of rough riding
and often still rougher fare among the Indians and the
mountains. The next day, which was Saturday, we
traveled on, hoping to reach Murfreesboro, where we
might spend a pleasant Sabbath; but the road was
rough and we found long before night that we should
not be able to accomplish our object. So we put up
at a comfortable-looking establishment some ten miles
short of our intended stopping-place. We found very
pleasant quarters in the house of Mr. R., a man of
wealth and intelligence, and a member of the Presby-
terian Church. I noticed a large, fine-looking distil-
246 The Life and Letters of

lery, which I supposed was used to convert the surplus
grain raised on the farm into whiskey, in which form
it was likely to command a more remunerative price
than it would have done as bare grain, either as corn
or rye. This, I thought, was a bad sign; but in those
days the Church and the distillery were not regarded
so decidedly antagonistic each to the other, nor was the
spirit of the still-worm and the Spirit of God deemed
so essentially hostile each to the other as they are
now regarded by all honest and sober Christian people.
Hence the smoke of the devil’s kitchen (as our quaint
and sterling old friend, James Axley, used to denom-
inate the still-house) was then no uncommon sight
as it curled briskly up from the mountain ravines and
spring branches of the country in almost every direc-
tion. We are happy to say that such sights are much
more rarely witnessed in these days.

“The next morning we started early and pushed on
for Murfreesboro, which we reached just as they
were commencing service. The pulpit was occupied
by a local preacher. We took our places in the
church, and, of course, as we were strangers, attracted
some attention. Just as the congregation was about
to be dismissed I noticed some whispering, and finally
a good brother, G. B., a superannuated preacher of the
Tennessee Conference, who had charge of the church
during the absence of the stationed preacher, came
and inquired if I was a preacher. Receiving an affr-
mative answer, he announced to the. congregation
that a strange brother from Georgia would fill the
pulpit that afternoon. After dismissal some of them
ascertained from Brother Thomas my name and char-
acter. Brother B. invited me to go to his house
-

SFames Osgood Andrew. 247

and lodge, which invitation I accepted The good
man, upon reflection, very prudently bethought him
that it would be advisable to look into the authority
by which I claimed- to be a Bishop. He therefore
modestly approached the subject, and, with a good
deal of apparent trepidation, hoped I would not
take it amiss if he asked to see my parchment. ‘ Not
at all, brother,’ said I; ‘you are perfectly right.
I give you credit for your honest and faithful ad-
herence to the Discipline. But you should have
begun sooner; here you have published an appoint-
ment for me to preach to your people without the
proper examination of my credentials. Now, the fact
is, I am one of the Bishops of the Church, and am on
my way to Nashville to preside at the approaching
Conference ; but I havé neither certificate nor parch-
ment to prove it. You are ina difficulty. What will
you do? However, I will relieve you by declining
to preach, and I assure you I shall not only not be
hurt with you, but shall esteem you for your faithful
adherence to a very important rule of the Discipline.’
‘The good man, feeling, I suppose, that he was in
rather an awkward predicament, and that it was,
possibly, the easiest way to risk it, insisted that I
should preach, and professed himself satisfied that I
was a true man and a veritable Methodist Bishop, a
fact of which he became; I dare say, more satisfied the
ensuing week at Nashville.

“The next day we had plenty of company on our
route to the City of Rocks, which we reached just
before night, and I found myself assigned to the
house of H. R. W. Hill as my place of abode during
the session of the Conference. I met from Brother
~

248 The Life and Letters of

and Sister Hill a cordial welcome and kind entertain-
ment.

‘“«The Conference commenced, and T had to make
my début as presiding officer of a large Annual Con-
ferences. It was a trying position for me. Around
me were a number of the men of other days—men
who had grown gray in the service of God and truth.
There were the venerable Garrett and Gwinn, and the
sweet-spirited Douglass, besides many others who
had known more years than the Bishop. I felt con-
scious of my defects, and threw myself upon the in-
dulgence of the Conference, and the brethren indicated
every disposition to help me, so I got safely through.”

The Tennessee Conference, the first over which
Bishop Andrew presided, was a strong body. There
were six districts. The Conference included not only
all that is now in both the Tennessee and Memphis
Conferences, but much that is in the North Alabama.
On the Nashville District the sprightly, earnest
McMahon was Presiding Elder. Stationed in Nash-
ville was a young man, perhaps ten years the Bishop’s
junior, of fine, impressive personal appearance, digni-
fied in bearing, fluent in speech, and wonderfully
gifted with common sense—Alexander L. P. Green
was his name—while Greenbury Garrett, with the
gifted Thomas L, Douglass, was on the circuit around
the city. : .

Fountain E. Pitts, the sweetest of singers and one
of the most powerful revival preachers of. his time,
was Presiding Elder. James McFerrin was another
of the cabinet. R. H. Rivers, the life-long friend of
the Bishop, was a young man, in his second year and
junior preacher on a circuit.
yYames Osgood Andrew. 249

George D. Harris was another Presiding Elder,
while John B. McFerrin was begging persistently, and
we may be sure successfully, for the La Grange Col-
lege, over which Robert Paine, then in the vigor of
his manhood, was presiding with great ability.

There were 24,412 members in the boundary, and
540 were in the Nashville Station. Here the Bishop
tried his ’prentice hand at making appointments. He
had good counselors, and we can see by the minutes
even at this day how judiciously they were made.
Few things ever tried him so sorely as this one. Once
he said to me: ‘‘ The burdens of my office, as far as
travel and exposure and absence from home, I could
stand; but to send a man toa place when I knew it
was an affliction to him, or to send a preacher to a
place when I knew it was afflicting the place, these
are the things which have tried me.” In those days
there were but few easy places—all were hard; and it
was a more trying thing for Andrew and Soule and
Emory and Hedding to make appointments than it
had been for Asbury or McKendree, for in their day
the preachers were generally unmarried; now they
were nearly all married. The Bishop’s work was more
difficult then than it is now. There were no railways,
no easy modes of conveyance, no parsonages, and no
Ladies’ Parsonage Associations. Then, too, the work
was only scantily supplied with laborers, and one
could not locate without leaving a vacant place.
Now, if a man’s conscience will allow him to do so,
the place can at once be filled.

His next Conference was in Mississippi, at Vicks-
burg, and to reach it he must leave Nashville in his
sulky and make his way through North Alabama and

11*
250 The Life and Letters of

the Choctaw Nation, through the deep mud of the
prairies to the good old town of Vicksburg, which had
taken ‘the place known in the early minutes as the
Red Lick Settlement. The difficulty of making this
journey can only be appreciated by one who has gone
over the ground from Nashville through the Lime-
stone lands into the valley of the Tennessee, and then
nearly across two States, through an almost unbroken
wild, down the river to the place of Conference. The
Bishop gives a graphic account of this journey. He
says: :

“When I was about to leave Nashville I ascertained
that the horse I had driven in the sulky was lame. I
was, however, obliged to go, so we had to get on as
well as we could over a miserable road to Columbia.
The present turnpike road was then just fairly com-
menced, and those who now so merrily rattle over
that fine road have very slight conceptions of the diffi-
culties which travelers encountered between the two
places in days of yore. From Columbia we journeyed
to La Grange by way of Florence, accompanied by
that sterling patriot, honest man, and faithful Christian
minister, Rev. James McFerrin, father of the pres-
ent editor of the Nashville Christian Advocate [1853].
By the time we reached La Grange my horse was in
such a condition that he could not proceed ; so turn-
ing over my traveling companion and my horse to
the care of Brother McFerrin, who resided in the
country a few miles distant, I resolved to pursue my
journey alone to Vicksburg, the seat of the Missis-
sippi Conference, having been kindly furnished with
a horse by Dr. Sledge, on condition of returning him
when I reached the Alabama Conference at Tusca-
Fames Osgood Andrew. 251

loosa. This horse, a snug, fast-traveling pony, did
me admirable service, and I have never forgotten the
kindness of the owner in lending him to me in my
hour of need.

“TI found La Grange College, then in its infancy,
perched on the top of a mountain beautiful for situa-
tion, healthy, with an extensive and commanding <
prospect, overlooking the beautiful valley country be-
low. My present worthy colleague, Bishop Paine,
was then presiding over its destines with distinguished
ability and usefulness.

‘‘Leaving La Grange I started for Vicksburg by
way of the Bear Creek Hills, and after a rough and
lonely ride reached Columbus, Miss. I here found an
old acquaintance, John Bibb, Esq., whom I had in-
timately known in my early days in Elbert County,
where we were both brought up. I lodged with
him, and the next morning pushed on a mile or two
beyond to Tombigbee River, which we crossed. At
this point I encountered the first prairie which I had
ever seen; it was rather a small affair compared with
my. subsequent acquaintances of the same family, but
at that time it seemed to me quite an extensive old
field. I have a very feeling remembrance of it in one
or two respects. It was a cool morning when I
entered it, and there had been a heavy shower of rain
on the preceding day. The wind from the northwest
had swept across the prairie without let or hindrance,
so that the temperature was almost at freezing point,
and the prairie mud so deep and clogged the wheels of
the sulky so much that it was with great difficulty my
sterling pony could get along. Now, to those of my
readers who have traveled a prairie market-road after
252 The Life and Letters of:

heavy rains all this may be intelligible enough; but
to those who attempt to judge of my morning’s’ ride
by comparison with any other sort of muddy road, I
would first say, you know nothing about it. After a
pretty diligent day’s ride I lodged at night with a
Brother Holiness, a clever family with a capital name.

‘““The next day I entered the Indian Territory,
through which I hada lonely day’s ride, and just be-
fore nightfall I was glad to find quarters at a little
Indian cabin which was a sort of stage ground, and
was, of course, a rendezvous for drunken stage-driv-
ers. The prospect for a night’s rest was not very en-
couraging, but there was no other alternative, so I
had but to resolve to trust to God and do the best I
could. In due time I lay down to rest on a bed in
the corner of a little shed room; but there was neither
rest nor sleep. What with obscene songs, and the
most vulgar and profane stories, and a frequent
visit to the whiskey barrel, there was no quiet in the
house till far toward morning, when the drunken
revelers ceased their noise, and all was quiet in the
hut save the unmusical snorings of the bacchanalians.
I arose in the morning unrefreshed and feverish, and
took to the road resolved to strive for a better place
the next night. I was directed to a house kept by a
white man (a Mr. Northern, I think), who, it was said,
kept a genteel house. I reached it some time before
dark, but resolved to stop that I might secure a good
night’s rest. Toward evening two or three genteel-
looking families drove up, who were reported to be
from Virginia, and whose retinue and appearance
might have justified a claim to belong to the first
families of the State; but all is not gold that shines,
Sames Osgood Andrew. 253

as I soon discovered. When bedtime came the ladies
and children were all put into one room and all the
men into the other, so that we had a floor full of men
lodging in the same chamber. We were a motley
crowd, so that if I had indulged any hope of rest for
the night, a few moments’ experience of the propensi-
ties of my very voluable companions effectually dis-
sipated such hope. I do not remember to have been
surrounded by such a set of disreputable persons in
all my life. The drunken revelers of the previous
night were scarcely a circumstance to these well-
dressed and genteel-looking blackguards. After a
restless night I arose early and ordered my horse,
determined to see if it was possible to find a house in
all that country where a decent man might have a little
peace. A pleasant ride of some dozen miles brought
me to Lafloris in time for breakfast.

‘‘Mr. Lafloris was a clever man, partly white, a
man of property and respectability. I found here a
decent, quiet family. I had a comfortable breakfast
and then crossed the river (Pearl River, I believe),
and urged my way to Clinton, Miss., which was my
next point. ‘The roads were good, but finding the
sun declining pretty rapidly, I resolved to seek for
quarters at a respectable-looking house near the road.
I drove up and was told’I could stay; a servant
took charge of my horse and I walked into the house.
I was soon at the bookcase, and found the Bible, a
Methodist hymn-book, and a complete set of Wesley’s
works. No one who has not been similarly circum-
stanced can form any conception of the pleasure which
this little incident afforded me. I felt at once as
though at home. I had assurance that it was a Meth-
254 The Life and Letters of

odist family, and I spent a very pleasant night with
them. The next morning I left for Clinton, which I
reached early in the afternoon, and found a pleasant
resting-place at the house of Judge Nicholson, who,
with his excellent wife, made me cordially welcome.
The next day I rode to Vicksburg. Just before reach-
ing there I had my first view of the mighty river, but
felt a sense of disappointment on first seeing it. It
seemed not near so large as I had expected, but on
a closer inspection my previous anticipations were
fully realized. I found the Mississippi Conference .
assembled, a small band, the Southern Conference
having been cut off by the General Conference. We
held our sessions in one room of Judge Lane’s house,
and I believe the Judge accommodated nearly all the
preachers and their horses. I found in him an old
friend and former associate in the South Carolina Con-
ference, from which he had several years previously
been sent as a missionary to Mississippi, where he had
labored faithfully and successfully, and had secured a
good wife into the bargain. Winans, Drake, Lane,
T. Owens, I remember, and perhaps there are a few
others whose names I do not now recollect.”

It was certainly no pleasant journey he had made to
reach Vicksburg and the Mississippi Conference. It
was a small Conference, only 6,380 whites and 2,645
colored, and of the Choctaw Indians who were yet in
Eastern Mississippi, there were 701 in the Church.
There were only five districts, which covered Missis-
sippi and Louisiana, William Winans was there, but’
was superannuated. He lived long after this Confer-
ence, and to make one of the best speeches of the
great debate in 1844. He was a man of remark-
Fames Osgood Andrew. 255

able balance of mind, clear-headed, of keen insight,
and a fearless defender of what he believed was true
and just. He had not preferred Bishop Andrew for
Bishop, and would have chosen William Capers if he
could have doneso. The saintly Drake was sent to
lead the forlorn hope in New Orleans. John Lane,
long a leader in Mississippi, was still on a district ;
and Charles K. Marshall—Young Charley Marshall,
they called him then—full of fire, and zeal, and en-
ergy, was now riding his first circuit. Alexander
Talley—the Brother Talley who was so hurt at young
Andrew’s early marriage, and was to the sensitive
‘young preacher a grievous trial, as the old journal
records—was now working faithfully and successfully
among the Choctaw Indians. John G. Jones, who
was to outlive all his contemporaries, had a district
covering all of upper Louisiana.

The Conference held its session, and the Bishop
came back again toward Tuscaloosa, where he was to
organize the Alabama Conference, November, 27th.
Leaving Vicksburg he ploughed his way back by the
same route he had gone, until he reached Columbus,
Miss., where he again found a home with his old
Georgia friends. He now left the river and began
to cross the ridges. He found the roads very rough,
and the country, not many years settled, very rude,
but on the second day from Columbus he reached
the capital of Alabama, Tuscaloosa. Here he met
the preachers who were to form the new Conference.
Alabama had not, at this time, been occupied en-
tirely by the whites, but there were many settlers,
some of whom had been in the State over thirty years,
on the Western rivers.
256 The Life and Letters of

‘Thirteen years before this young Robert Paine had -
organized the Church in all the section around Tusca-
loosa, and in this town Dr. R. W. Kennon, one of the
first missionaries to the Tombigbee, had his home.
Hearn and Wier, and a few others, were endeavoring
to supply the immense tefritory with ministerial ser-
vice. Of all the number (and there were only four-
teen) who composed the Conference, I do not think a
single one remains.

There are now two large Conferences in the same
territory. The Bishop always felt a kind of paternal
interest in this Conference. It had been set off from
the Mississippi Conference only the year before, and
he was to organize it. He lived to see the little one
become a thousand, to see two grand male and sev-
eral female colleges in the same territory and the mis-
sionary contributions rising to $30,000 per year, and
then to see great changes which threatened almost de-
struction to Church and State, but he did not live to
see the day of deliverance and of renewed prosperity.
Young Thomas now rejoined him and they began their
journey to Georgia. He says:

“T was also favored with the company of my
cheerful friend, the Rev. William MacMahon. We
had a pleasant ride till we reached the country of
the Creek Indians, at Line Creek. From thence
to Columbus we traveled entirely through the In-
dian country, and had such fare as might be ex-
pected.: Somewhere in the neighborhood of what I
suppose is now known as Chunnenugee Ridge, we
lodged at a stand where our company presented a
strange mixture of whiskey-drinking Indians and
still more depraved Georgia and Alabama gamblers.
Yames Osgood Andrew. 257

The next evening we reached Columbus, and found
a cordial welcome and a delightful resting-place at
the house of my old friends, Mr. and Mrs. Stuart.
Our route to La Grange was over a new country, and,
of course, the roads were none of the best. We spent
the Sabbath in the town of Hamilton, and the next
day reached La Grange.

‘‘ The Conference proceeded with its business. We
finished our work with harmony and dispatch, though
we had some exceedingly unpleasant work. One of
the preachers was charged with divers immoralities,
yet through his own ingenuity and the influence of a
clerical friend he escaped the full dole of punishment
which his conduct deserved. He was discharged from
the ministry, but was permitted to remain in the
Church as a private member. Yet this same man,
not very long after, confessed to his clerical friend his
guilt of all that was charged against him. Lord, what
is man? and what views must some men have of God,
when they can so solemnly appeal to the Great Su-
preme for their innocence when they know their deep
and damning guilt! An Annual Conference, in trying
an accused brother, should, of course, extend to him
every allowable privilege of defense, and should finally
judge of the case as kindly as possible; but they
should never forget that stern and impartial justice
has higher claims upon them than mere human sym-
pathy—the honor and purity of God, the Church, have
equal or paramount claims.”

The Bishop thus came to his own Conference to
preside. The dearest friends of his youth were here—
Lovick Pierce, who only twenty years before carried
up his application for admission; Stephen Olin, who

.
258 The Life and Letters of

ten years before had entered his home in Charleston
and walked into his heart; George Pierce, whom
he had urged into the good work which he was
doing as few men had ever done it before; William
Arnold, William J. Parks, Andrew Hammill, John
Howard, and many others very dear to him. Perhaps
no Bishop likes to preside over a Conference of which
he has long been a member, and the Georgia work
presented then unusual difficulties. When the best
men were needed most the work was hardest; but he
made the appointments—made them well. He mag-
nified the office of Presiding Elder; had his exam-
ple always been followed, North and South, there
would be less disposition now to regard the office
with disfavor, and he placed the best men in this
position. Georgia never had a better corps of
diocesans than she did after this Conference in La
Grange. William Arnold, Lovick Pierce, John How-
ard, Ignatius A. Few, John W. Talley, and Andrew
Hammill were all men of remarkable parts.

The sad trial of which he speaks it is well enough
to consider. The man had been a most popular, and
apparently a most useful man; the charges against
him were of fearful enormity, and he went before a
magistrate and swore them false. William J. Parks
was one of the investigating committee. When the
case was reported for trial, the preacher went to
Parks, tears in his eyes and a tremor in his voice.
‘Brother Parks, we have worked together, and
prayed together, and rejoiced together ; you ought to
know me; do you think I would swear to a lie?”
Fixing his keen black eyes upon him, he said: ‘‘ Bro-
ther, if you would do what you are charged with do-
Fames Osgood Andrew. 259

oe

ing here, I think you would; and I believe you did
it.”’ He was only suspended, but a guilty conscience
would not let him rest; he confessed his sins, left
Georgia, and, I have heard, died penitent in the far
West.

“ As the South Carolina Conference was to be held
in Lincolnton, N. C., and Augusta was directly on my
way thither, I hastened from La Grange to see again
the loved ones athome. I found all still living, though
the youngest child, my sweet little Kate, was seriously
suffering from some disease of the lungs, which a few
months subsequently carried her to the grave. After
spending some days at home I started for Lincolnton,
via Columbia, S.C. At this point, in company with
several preachers of the Conference, I took the stage for
Lincolnton by the route of Chesterville and Yorkville.
Now, patient readers, if you have ever traveled over
this road after much rain, and will just remember that
it was now the latter part of winter, that the clouds
had for some time previously been paying all arrear-
ages to the earth, and that the heavily loaded cotton
wagons had done their full share toward the im-
provement of the traveling, you may form some
notion of the comfort of our ride. Suffice it to say
we fairly broke down at last not far from Yorkville,
and the driver had to leave part of the coach behind,
while the mails, the Bishop, and possibly another
passenger, rode into town quite in style. Fortunately
it was some time in the night when I made my first
entry into Yorkville. We spent the Sabbath here and
left on Monday for Lincolnton, which we reached in
due time. The village of Lincolnton is romantically
situated, in view of numerous mountain peaks, and the
260 The Life and Letters of

population seem to be industrious people. I remem-
ber particularly that they were not late sleepers at the
house where I lodged, and I think it was so generally.
We usually had prayers and breakfast over before
sunrise, so that he who loved his morning nap would
have run a great risk of missing his breakfast. This
was no trial to me, as it brought me back to the cus-
toms of my good old father, who had taught me to
rise before day ; though to some persons I wot of it
would have been rather a discomfort.

“The Conference conducted its business as has -gen-
erally been its wont, harmoniously and with dispatch,
and so this closed my first round of Conferences.”

The South Carolina Conference was like his own to
him. Inthe cabinet were his old colleagues, Henry
Bass, his first Presiding Elder; W. M. Kennedy,
Nicolas Talley, who had entered the Conference just
before him; William Capers, who was stationed in
Charleston ; and among the young men were William
Wightman, his Charleston boy; Whiteford Smith in
his first year; H. A. C. Walker, who received his first
appointment from his hands. Some of the old preach-
ers who were in the Conference when he entered it
were here to receive appointments from him. The
embarrassment of his position and the difficulty of
making the appointments were very great. The South
Carolina was one of the largest Conferences in the
connection. There were 24,773 white and 22,326
colored members in its boundary, and, while the
Georgia and Florida territory was no longer to be
provided for, there was a very extensive field for it to
supply with laborers. He, however, finished his work
to general satisfaction, and returned to his home in
JFames Osgood Andrew. 261

Augusta. Andrew belonged to the third generation
of American Bishops. Asbury began his work at a
time when he knew not only every field of labor, but
every separate church in the connection, and was able
to visit very many of these churches every year. He
was unmarried, and literally lived in his saddle. Mc-
Kendree found the work much more extensive, and
introduced the habit of calling the Presiding Elders
into consultation and conducting Conferences with
more system and with a stricter regard to form.

When Bishop Andrew was elected a change was
passing over the whole method of conducting Con-
ference affairs. Colleges were being established ; Sun-
day-schools were receiving special attention; mission-
ary matters were claiming a more important place.
The Conference at first was simply an association of
evangelists ; it was now becoming a convention of
pastors. The bodies were getting to be very large,
and men of advanced intellectual culture were more
numerous. The old Methodist uniform was still gen-
erally adhered to, only a few venturing to brave the
censure of the fathers by wearing clothing of more
modern cut. The preachers were all clean shaven,
and even up to the time when Marvin was ordained
a Bishop the Bishops were without long beards.

The Conferences convened then, as now, on a
Wednesday morning. A somewhat lengthy address
by the Bishop followed the opening religious exer-
cises. The examination of character was the one im-
portant work. ‘‘Is there anything against him?”
meant very much more than “‘ Has he been guilty of
anything in any degree immoral?” The doors were
closed when the examination began, and the brother's
262 The Life and Letters of

conduct was most rigidly canvassed. If there was
any charge against him requiring explanation, he was
permitted to remain in the room; otherwise he re-
tired. The Elder generally did his best to make the
case out a good one, but Brother Myers or Brother
Turner was on the watch-tower. ‘‘ Did he rise early?
Was he prudent? Did he shave on Sunday? Did
he execute the Discipline? Was he light or trifling?”
If there were any rumors floating around they were
brought out now. Ittook a good while to go through
a Conference with this careful scrutiny. It may have
had, and it did have, its defects, this old Wesleyan
plan of examining character—gone now, with the white
hat and the straight-breasted coat of the days of
yore—but it had its blessings. Many a flaw of char-
acter was discovered, many a little defect amended
which now goes with a man to his grave.

The afternoons were precious seasons. The Bishop
and the Eldets, and a committee or two, were en-
gaged; the rest of the Conference was free; and
there was preaching every afternoon in those times—
and such preaching! The Conference session went
generally through seven days, and closed with the
reading of the appointments.

The Bishop says: ‘‘ I returned home to aid my wife
in nursing our sick child; we passed through a sea-
son of painful anxiety. Our sweet little Kate contin-
ued to droop, and we saw her by slow but certain
steps descending to the grave. We finally resolved,
in the faint hope that traveling might be of service
to her, to take her to Charleston, but at the close
of the first day’s journey we found she was sinking
so rapidly that we retraced our steps the next morn-
Fames Osgood Andrew. 263

ing in order that our precious lamb might breathe
her last at home, which she did the day subsequent to
our return. The intervening night was to me one of
great anxiety, as 1 sat beside the couch of my child
gazing on her wasted features and listening to her
dying moans ; but the final moment came at last, and
our darling Kate ceased to be of earth and became
an angel with God. Oh, how sweetly sounded in my
ears the words of the good Shepherd, ‘ Suffer little
children to come unto me and forbid them not, for
of such is the kingdom of Heaven.’ The next day
we wended our way sadly to the graveyard and laid
the remains of our sweet little sufferer in the tomb, in
joyful hope of a glorious resurrection. But as I stood
by that grave and gazed on the descending coffin, my
soul was assailed with the fiercest doubts which I re-
collect to have encountered in the course of my expe-
rience. While I was endeavoring to direct my hopes
to a future reunion with my loved ones who had passed
the flood before me, the tempter suggested, ‘ All
this revelation on which you are resting your faith
and hope is a fallacious dream ; Christianity is a fable ;
your buried friends are extinguished ; life is but a
dream, and death an eternal sleep from which there is
noawakening.: For afew hours I grappled with fearful
doubts, but, blessed be God, I triumphed. I brought
infidelity to a close and searching catechism. What
had it ever done for the world ? What did it now prof-
fer to do for me? Itcharged me with folly in resting
' my faith and hope in the Gospel of Jesus! Did it offer
me any other ground of hope or source of comfort ?
‘‘I had now buried three lovely children, besides
many beloved friends; what had skepticism to say
264 The Life and Letters of

in reference to them? Had it any hope to substitute
for the one of which it would rob me? It whispered
of annihilation; and was there a single gleam of com-
fort in that? Ah, no! Or perhaps it whispered of
the fosszbzlity of all being right in futurity, provided
there be any futurity. And this was all the tempter
had to offer me in exchange for the glorious certain-
ties and noonday revelations of the Christian future
flowing from the death and resurrection and ascen-
sion of our glorious Redeemer and Mediator! The
gospel of the unbeliever is all darkness and uncer-
tainty. It has only skill to destroy and pull down,
and none to build up, It enkindles no cheering light
on life’s pathway, exciting to purity and showing the
way to its attainment, for it has no authority to give
precept or promise ; and when earth’s weary travelers
come to the shadows and darkness of life’s close, it
but gathers a deeper darkness about their pathway,
No single star of hope twinkles in the firmament of
the future.

“How precious in that hour are the utterances of
Christian revelation! ‘Thy brother shall rise again,’
said the blessed Jesus to the weeping and bereaved
sisters; and the triumphant language of St. Paul is,
“If we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so
them which sleep in Jesus will God bring with him.
Thanks be to God which giveth us the victory through
our Lord Jesus Christ.’ I am in a strait between the
two, having a desire to depart and be with Christ,
which is far better. There is more true, pure, and
heart philosophy in the above quotations than in all
the volumes to which infidel philosophy has ever given
birth since the world began.
Fames Osgood Andrew. 265

‘* And this is the peculiar glory of the Gospel of the
grace of God. It addresses itself to man as he is, not
as philosophers imagine he ought to be; it reveals to
him what he is, what he ought to be; defines to his
apprehension the whole process of the needed reno-
vation; breathes upon him an influence divine to aid
him in the attainment of the essential and glorious
change required; starts him in the way of life, and
bids him fix his eyes on heaven—eternal and glorious
heaven—as his ultimate resting-place. The Gospel
deals with him as man—erring and sinful, it may be,
but still immortal. It destroys none of his essential
attributes, but is eminently a social and domestic reli-
gion. It hallows and strengthens the bonds of social
intercourse, and consecrates and sanctifies the joys of
the domestic circle. Does the Christian husband or
father love his wife and children with an affection less
than that which is cherished in similar relations by
the ungodly man? Yea, rather is not the current of
these affections deeper and stronger in the Christian,
while he contemplates these loved ones as heirs, to-
gether with himself, of the eternal inheritance which
God hath provided for the good in His higher and
better kingdom above ?

‘Christianity loves the home fireside and cheers its
households with the prospect of final triumph over
death and the grave; and as the father and mother
look on the smiling little ones around them, while
they feel that death shall dissolve the earthly ties
which unite them to those loved ones, a voice from
the most excellent glory bids their faith and hope
look up to an eternal reunion in their Father’s house
above. Am I to be told that all these hopes are vain?

12
266 The Life and Letters of

that in another state all these hallowed affections
which serve to cheer life’s gloomy. pathway and ren-
der an earthly sojourn tolerable are to be annihi-
lated ? that if perchance I and the children which God
gave me on earth should reach the better land, we
shall wander through eternity strangers to each other,
with no sign of recognition to recall former scenes ?
Those may receive this doctrine who will; for my own
part, I do not intend to believe a word of it. Now, I
love to think of this glorious reunion with loved ones
in the presence and home of my gracious and glorious
Lord and Master, the victor over death and the grave.
I love sometimes to talk of it and even preach about
it, notwithstanding it is regarded a sin against the
canons of good taste by some fastidious critics now-
adays, who will very soon come to be scandalized at
hearing much stress laid on singing and shouting the
praises of God in heaven.”

Another sweet girl has gone to heaven. How
grandly the father writes of that conflict at her grave.
The combat with the demon of doubt comes to all,
and will continue to come while the Prince of Dark-
ness is unchained; but, blessed be God, the hour of
victory comes too. This battle once won was, as far
as he was concerned, won for all time. From this
hour that demon came no more to him. Heaven and
immortality were to him no longer questions. He
did not believe in them—he saw them. The perfect
clearness of his spiritual vision is one of the wonders
of his life. There was but one valley of the shadow
of death to him, and he had passed safely through it.
He wrote to his mother in March:
Fames Osgood Andrew. 267

To Mrs. MARY O. ANDREW.

‘* AucusTa, March 12, 1833.
“ My BELOVED MOTHER:

‘‘T had hoped before this time to have seen you,
but have been hindered, and now I doubt whether I
shall visit the up country before May or June. On
next Monday I expect, God willing, to leave this
place for the low country on a tour of professional
duty which will probably extend over several weeks.
Amelia wishes to see her sister, and I-think I shall
take her and some of the girls with me.

“« You have perhaps heard before this of our afflic-
tive loss. Our dear little Catharine, after suffering
beyond description, was taken from us on the last day
of February. Thestroke wasa bitter one, and I found
it asevere struggle to be resigned. Allis for the best,
Iknow. God CANNOT evr / Oh, that we may so live
as to gain an entrance at last into that heaven to
which God has taken-her.

‘*The rest of the family are in health at present.
My own health is pretty good.

“T saw none of our relations on my Mississippi trip,
though I heard from:them. They were well.

“«T trust, my dear mother, that your own health is
good, and that my dear sister Judy is in better health.
God bless her and cause His face to shine upon her.

“Hitherto God has sustained me in my arduous
duties, and although I have not discharged them to
my own satisfaction, yet I have honestly endeavored
to do the best I could, and God, I trust, has accepted
the imperfect service.

‘«Tell William I hope to see his crop in fine order
when I come up. If you stand in need of anything
268 The Life and Letters of

which it is in my power to supply, and you have an
opportunity of sending for it, please let me know.

“‘ Amelia and the little girls unite in kind remem-
brances to yourself and all the family. I remain, my
dear mother,

“‘ Your affectionate son,
‘JAMES O. ANDREW.”

He had made a long journey, and his next visitation
to the Conferences did not begin until January. He
was getting ready now to go to the Territory of Flor-
ida, and before he began his journey he wrote to his
dear old mother:

*« AuGusTA, September g, 1833.
““My DEAR MOTHER:

“ T expect you are all willing to hear from me by this
time ; and as I shall leave home to-morrow, God wil-
ling, on a tour of about three weeks, I must write you
to-day or wait some time longer. Through Divine
mercy we are all in good health, although the weather
is extremely hot. Our little girl is just about the
finest child in the State—handsome, fat, and good
natured quite beyond what is common. She has
never cried as much in all her life as some children
do in half an hour. We dedicated her to God in
baptism yesterday. Her name is Mary Catharinc ;
so you see we have remembered both grandmothers.
I hope you are all well and doing well for time and
eternity. According to your request I got Asbury
Hull to draw up a deed of trust, which he promised to
send to you together with a letter of instructions as
to what you had best do. I trust you have received
Fames Osgood Andrew. 269

it, and that everything has been done so that your
mind is quite at ease on that point.

‘“‘T had hoped to visit you again in the course of the
fall, but doubt whether it will be in my power before
Christmas. On October 14th I intend to leave home

for a trip to Florida, which will keep me busily en-
gaged until about the 5th or 6th of December. If,
however, I should not be able to come sooner, I
will try and spend a few days with you before the
Georgia Conference. But the time is short—oh, let
us look forward to that day when friends shall meet
topartno more. . . . I expect, in visiting Florida,
to see my sister, Mrs. Roberts, and spend a day with
her. Tell Harbert that some time or other, while I
am in the Territory, I will try to snatch a spare hour
and give him a brief notice of the wonderments I see
in the land of the orange and pine. Before I start to
Florida I will give instructions about your next year’s
groceries—say your sugar, coffee, and salt—so that,
by any wagon coming down after the middle of Octo-
“ber, you can send, and they can obtain the articles
by calling on Jesse Kent, a little above the lower
market. I will leave instructions with Brother Kent
so that he will deliver the things upon receiving your
order. Should you not have pork enough, I must
make arrangements, when I come up, for you -to pro-
cure more, either pork or bacon. Amelia and the little
girls unite in affectionate remembrance to you.”

This is the letter. There is nothing in it which the
world will perhaps value; it is only the picture of a
thoughtful, affectionate son, who, although he is a
Bishop of a great Church, does not forget the wants
of the dear old mother in the humble farm-house in
270 The Life and Letters of

Clarke. Dear old Jesse Kent will load the wagon
with the widow Andrew’s groceries, and her son
James will find some way out of his small salary to
pay the bill, and will also find time to write a line to
Harbert—poor, crippled, gifted Harbert, the baby
boy whom he left home twenty years ago—to tell
him about the wonderments of Florida.

These glimpses of domestic life are very sweet to
me. If my reader does not like them, and wants
only the story of the ecclesiastic and not the picture
of the man, he had best go no further.

I am to show James O. Andrew, not in his clerical
robes, but as he was when they were laid aside—to
show his heart. Great brained as he was, hero as he
was in every fibre of his soul, his heart was the
largest part of him, and it finds another sweet utter-
ance in this letter to his daughter :

“ AUGUSTA, —— 29, 1833.
‘* My DAUGHTER:

‘‘Your mother received your last letter a few days’
since, and we were all extremely glad to hear of your
health and well-being. Your letters, my dear child,
are always looked for by us with a good deal of
solicitude, as you will probably never know how
much anxiety we feel on your account till you your-
self become a parent. These anxieties arise from our
undying concern for your good conduct here and
your eternal well-being hereafter. You are thrown
upon the billows of a tempestuous and deceitful world,
whose maxims, customs, and spirit are all calculated
to deceive you by promising to your unpracticed eye
and heart much happiness, when it shall eventually
Fames Osgood Andrew. 271

yield nothing but disappointment, bitterness, and
death. Will my daughter remember her God and
Saviour while she is seeking literary improvement ?
or will she be gay, thoughtless, and prayerless, as
many of her young companions are? Oh, how deeply
do these questions affect our hearts when we think of
you; yet we have confidence in you, my precious
child. Disappoint us not.

‘‘ Whatever company or conversation unfits you for
religious duties, I beg you for a father’s love to avoid
them.

‘‘Does my Elizabeth diligently attend to private
prayer, to daily and prayerful reading of the Holy
Scriptures? Oh, my daughter, do you earnestly seek
the enjoyment of the peace of God which passeth all
understanding? I fear you do not seek it as you
ought. Ihave witnessed with deep regret that you
have never yet communicated at the holy sacrament.
Why is this, my love? Are you unwilling to take
this solemn, decisive step, and put the last public
seal upon your faith in Him without the merit of
whose blood you must be an eternal offcast from God
and hope, because it would seem to raise a greater
barrier between you and the world? Consider, my
daughter, what excuse you can make to God for the
neglect of this most precious Gospel ordinance.

‘“‘T know my daughter will appreciate her father’s
motive in all that has been written above, and will
equally regard the advice given. Our ever-dear Eliza-
beth is never forgotten in our prayers. Farewell, my
child. May God greatly bless you is the prayer of

‘Your affectionate father,
‘J. O. ANDREW.”
272 The Life. and Letters of

He was now at camp-meetings, never doing better
nor more laborious work, until October of the year
when he made his first visit to Florida. He was in
the sulky, and Jacob, the colored boy, on horseback.
Although his journeyings had been extensive; he had
not as yet gone so near the tropics as the beautiful
peninsula brought him. It was over ten years after
this that Florida became a State. The Church came
into it even before the American flag floated over it.
Jesse Lee, in 1799, passed over the line between the
States and Florida, and prayed that God would send
the Gospel into that region, and now there was quite
a band of workers there. Although St. Augustine
is the oldest city in America, a few miles from it there
was then an unbroken wild. John W. Talley had
the whole of Florida east of the Chattahoochee and a
considerable slice of Georgia in his district, and a
body of young Georgians were under his direction.
There were eight unordained men in the nine charges.

The reminiscences say: ‘‘ As my next tour of Con-
ferences did not begin until early in the following
year, I spent my time at home and in attending Con-
ference and other meetings in various portions of the
surrounding country. In July God gave us another
daughter to supply the place of our dear little Kate.
We received her as a gift from God. My dear Mary
still lives,! and is, I trust, endeavoring to seek first the
kingdom of God. Oh, that she may at last reach the
heavenly rest. :

‘«“As I had some time to remain at home and
wished to be profitably employed, I concluded to

 

1 She died of consumption, in Florida, in 1857.
Fames Osgood Andrew. 273

spend a part of the fall and winter in visiting Florida,
which was then just beginning to be settled by our
people. Accordingly, in October I left home, in com-
pany with Jacob, alittle negro boy who lived with me,
and whose health had been for some time poor. He
was thought to be consumptive, and as I hoped that
a horseback ride through that mild climate might be of
service to his health, I purchased a horse, rigged him
out, and took him along with me. We went first to
Savannah; thus far all was familiar, but from that
point the route was new to me. From Savannah we
pushed for St. Mary’s, where Brother Talley, Presid-
ing Elder of the district including East Florida, was
to meet me. Our first day’s ride brought us to Rice-
borough, rather a dilapidated looking place, and
with unpromising surroundings for health. A few
miles before reaching this place we passed the old
Midway church, and although the sun was low and I
had several miles ahead of me, yet I felt that I must
not pass that hallowed spot without lingering a few
moments. I accordingly dismounted and wandered
among the tombstones which stood there giving brief
but expressive record of the sleeping dust beneath.
In this neighborhood my honored father had been
reared ; in this house he had been accustomed, from
his boyhood, to attend the worship of God; beneath
the sod over which I walked slept the dust of many
of those who were my kindred according to the flesh;
and near me the cold, silent marble told of one who,
in the days of my father’s youth, was the exemplary
pastor of the flock of God worshipping here, and
part of whose name I bore (Rev. Mr. Osgood). It
was an impressive scene; everything around me led
12*
274 The Life and Letters of

to serious thought—the place, the associations, and
the hour, for the sun .was just gilding the tree-tops
with his last beams—all conspired to render it one of
those scenes calculated to improve the heart, and I
would gladly have lingered there for hours. But
the shadows of evening were gathering around me,
and I had to leave this spot, rendered dear to me by so
many associations, resolving that at some future—not
very far distant—day I would revisit it and indulge
myself with a longer visit. But it has been a long
time since, and I have not yet been permitted to look
on the venerable Midway church.

“The following day a dreary ride through extensive
pine flats led us, late in the afternoon, across the Al-
tamaha River at Fort Barrington, so called, though I
saw no vestige of anything like a fort there at the
time of crossing. . Some six or eight miles beyond
we found lodgings at the house of one who seemed ut-
terly indisposed to prayers. The next day a dreary
ride, most of the way over uninhabited and poor-
looking pine country, brought us toward evening to
St. Mary’s, the poorest looking spot which I had yet
encountered, and certainly, if poverty of soil be any
sign of health, St. Mary’s must be one of the healthi-
est spots in the land—sure. We spent the Sabbath
here. I found a kindly welcome at the house of Sis-
ter Bessent, widow of an excellent local preacher who
had some time previously gone to his rest. On Mon-
day morning, in company with Brother Talley who
joined us at this point, we started for St. Augustine,
where I intended to spend the next Sabbath. We
crossed the St. Mary’s River several miles above
town, and traveled on what is called King’s road, in
Fames Osgood Andrew. 275

honor, I suppose, of his Catholic. Majesty of Spain,
by whose order it was prepared while Florida was yet
a province of his kingdom. It was a pretty good
road, and for onde in my life I felt under some obli-
gation to royalty. We were cordially greeted at
night at the house of Mr. Pyles, whose wife was a
Methodist—the husband a man of the world, clever
and friendly. We had ocular and pleasant demon-
stration of the St. John’s River in a fine dish of sheep-
head served for our breakfast.

“The next morning a few miles brought us to the
town of Jacksonville, then a straggling village. After
some considerable delay we crossed the St. John’s late
in the day and rode to the house of a Brother Phil-
lips, situated a few miles from the ferry. As we
were jogging along a large panther sprang across the
road and bounded away through the bushes. It was
the only specimen of a wild panther that I had ever
seen, though at the time of my passing through the
country they were still quite numerous in many local-
ities. Our host resided near the St. John’s, which
is a noble-looking stream,* broad, deep, and clear.
Next day we pushed for the anczent city, which we
reached after a dreary ride through a desolate coun-
try——_a poor, white-looking sandy pine country cov-
ered with an abundant growth of saw palmetto, whose
formidable roots, when encountered by carriage wheels
out of the old beaten track, produced an impression
on joints and muscles not soon to be forgotten.

‘‘ We have had missionaries here for many years,
and had collected a small society. It was, however,
always fluctuating, depending almost entirely upon
the transient population, and, but for the fact that St.
276 The Life and Letters of

Augustine was the great winter resort for consumptive
invalids, to whom the preacher might be as a minis-
tering angel in the hour of sickness and death, and
the additional fact that we had aceess to the blacks
(of whom we had collected a tolerable society), the
place would have been scarcely worth occupying.

‘* After spending a few days in the city we retraced
our steps as far as Jacksonville, where we again
crossed the St. John’s, and directed our way through
a wild and sparsely settled country to attend a camp-
meeting near the Suwanee River. Onthe way I made
a brief call on my sister Roberts, my father’s eldest
daughter by his first marriage. I had not seen her
for many years, and time and trouble had made some
inroads uponher looks. I found the same affectionate
sister as of old, and, best of all, she was looking for-
ward piously and hopefully to a better world, to which
God has removed her within a year or two past.

‘“We reached the camp after the meeting had com-
menced, but as it was known that both the Presiding
Elder and Bishop were coming, we met a considerable
party some distance fromahe camp, who came to get
sight of the Bishop and welcome us to the meeting.
Among the foremost I recognized a familiar face ; it
was no other than my old friend Charles McLellan,
formerly of Saltketcher Circuit, at whose house I had
spent many a pleasant hour in years long gone by.
It had been many years since we had met, yet I knew
him in an instant. That good-natured, half-quizzical
look of his could not be mistaken. He approached
me smilingly, but suddenly stopping and fixing an
earnest gaze upon me—‘ Take off your hat,’ said he,
‘and let me see your head. Oh, yes—it is yours; I

«
Fames Osgood Andrew. 277

know you now; there is that same curly head.’
Our greeting was a cordial one, and during the meet-
ing we had ample time to talk over the days of ‘ auld
lang syne.’”

And so, December 2, 1853, these charming remi-
niscences find an end. They had gone on in the col-
umns of the Southern Christian Advocate for over a
year, and the good Bishop now laid down his pen, in-
tending to take it up again after he returned home. He
never did resume it for this purpose. Deep sorrow was
just ahead of him, and heavy cares pressed upon him,
and the story of his life, which he has so charmingly
told till now, must be told by some other tongue.

From 1834 to 1840 there is an almost entire absence
of correspondence. The removal from Augusta to
Chestnut Grove, and from Chestnut Grove to Oxford,
and the events which followed, will, perhaps, account
for the loss of the letters. He was to go East during
the winter or early spring, to be gone for nearly a
year. As we see from his letter to his mother, he
met Bishop Emory at Washington in January, and re-
turning to Augusta he began, in February, his visi-
tations. Before his departure he wrote to his mother:

‘‘ WASHINGTON, January 14, 1834.

‘“My BELOVED AND HONORED MOTHER:

“‘T have long flattered myself with the hope of
spending some days with you before I started on my
Northern tour, but did not return from Florida until
some time in December. I then set apart the week
preceding the Conference to visit you, but the
weather with us was so bad that I could not at-
tempt it without considerable hazard, When I came
278 The Life and Letters of

to Conference i intended to have gone on to yee
together with the fact that Bishop Emory is a stran-
ger here and needs my advice on very much of the
unusually important business which has to be done at
this session, prevents my. consistently leaving until the
close of the session. This will bring me within four-
teen days of the time when I must leave home for an
absence of almost a year. Well, my dear mother, for-
give me if I say that I feel as if it were my duty to
spend this time with my wife and children, from
whom I am called to be almost an exile. Should
God permit me to return home, I hope next year to
give you a little more of my company, and until then
must endeavor to pay you for my failure to come by
sending Amelia and the girls to spend a little while
with you in the spring. Meanwhile I can only love
you and pray for you, and feel untold enjoyment in
the conviction that my blessed mother, who kissed
me and taught me and prayed for me in boyhood,
still presents me to the throne of grace. Oh, my
mother, how gladly would I make your remnant of
days free from care! This I cannot do altogether,
but will do what I can; and the good God who
loves you better than I will do all that is needful for
you. Cast your care upon Him, my precious mother,
He knows your every grief, and will either give you
grace to bear them or will deliver you from them in
due time. May heaven’s richest blessings rest upon
your head and heart for time and eternity.

“T send you enclosed $45, which you can ap-
propriate as your necessities require. I also send you
by Brother O. a horse which I have Bioeutee for your
Fames Osgood Andrew. 279

use. He is gentle for any purpose to which you may
choose to adapt him. I was sorry to hear that your
Advocate had been stopped some time since. I sent
and paid the account and ordered the paper to be
continued. Tell Harbert when he writes to me (which
I wish him to do that the letter may meet me at Vir-
ginia Conference, in Raleigh, February 20th) to let me
know whether you now receive it.

‘‘When I left home the family were all well except
your dear little namesake, Mary, who was a little un-
well; teething, I suppose. By the way, she is the best
and sweetest child I have’ ever seen in any land. I
long very much for you all to see her, and when she
comes up among you I think that even Uncle Wil-
liam, with all his opposition to girls, will say she is
charmingly sweet, and I am afraid the girls will spoil
her altogether.”

After his departure the good wife wrote thus:

“* AuGuSTA, February 25, 1834.
“ My DEAR MOTHER:

‘CAs I know that you must feel much anxiety to
hear from Mr. Andrew, as well as the rest of us, I
am sure a letter from me at this time will not be un-
acceptable. I trust you are all in the enjoyment of
health and all needed comforts. I have sympathized
deeply with you on account of the disappointment
which I know you must have experienced in not see-
ing Mr. Andrew previous to his leaving home, which, in
consequence of various circumstances with which I sup-
pose he made you acquainted, was unavoidable. The
long-dreaded trial has come at last, and he is gone.

‘“‘I cannot describe to you my feelings, my dear
280 The Life and Letters of

mother, when I parted with him. I do not know that
I ever saw him so much affected at leaving home. He
seemed to feel the parting with our dear little Mary
excessively. I suppose the remembrance of our little
‘Puss’ and the precarious nature of our infant’s health
weighed heavily on his mind. I have resolved, how-
ever, at his earnest request, to meet him in New York
in May. I shall then have his company till the first of
July, after which he leaves for the West, while I shall
probably remain there until the fall. I have concluded
to take Elizabeth and Mary with me, and shall take the
others up to your house and leave them in your care
till my return. I expect to see you about the middle
of April or a little later. If there are any things you
need or anything in which I can oblige you, let me
know and I will attend to it before I come.

“‘T received a letter from Mr. Andrew a day or
two ago, stating that his health was good. We are
all pretty well at this time, and the family unite with
me in affectionate remembrance to yourself and fam-
ily. Do, my dear mother, think of and pray for us,
and for me particularly, that I may have grace to en-
dure all that I am called to meet in this life and that I
may be saved eternally.

‘‘Vour affectionate daughter,
, “ANNE A, ANDREW.”

Leaving home early in February, he made his first
Eastern tour. He met the Virginia Conference at
Raleigh, N.C. This Conference embraced not only
all of Eastern Virginia, but all of upper North Caro-
lina. Of the nine districts there were four of them in
North Carolina.
James Osgood Andrew. 281

Doggett was a young Elder, stationed at Trinity, in
Richmond; Henry B. Cowles, not yet ordained, at
Lynchburg ; the eloquent Leigh on a district ; Leroy
M. Lee and William A. Smith, brothers in arms for
many long years, neighbors, one in Portsmouth and
one in Norfolk, and Edward Wadsworth at Charlottes-
ville. John Early was agent for Randolph Macon
College, and Stephen Olin President. There were
35,410 white members in all the Conference.

From Raleigh he went to Baltimore. The Bishop
was expected to travel through the connection, and
he was almost as much an evangelist as a Superinten-
dent. There was a month intervening between the
beginning of the Conferences, but as Conference ses-
sions were long and modes of conveyance slow, he
had not too much time.

The Baltimore Conference was the parent body of
all this section. Its boundary reached from the upper
part of Pennsylvania five hundred miles southward, and
from the Chesapeake Bay to the Ohio River. Bishop
Andrew had been in Baltimore at two General Con-
ferences, and knew the preachers of this Conference
probably as well as any in the East. They were many
in number and strong men. Alfred Griffith, who was
the leader of the attack against him twelve years after-
ward, was a Presiding Elder; the eloquent Cookman,
one of the stationed preachers of Baltimore; the
quaint old Dutchman, Jacob Gruber, preaching to the
negroes at Sharp Street ; Henry Slicer, who stood by
the South so firmly in 1844, was on a district; John
A. Collins and Samuel G. Roszell were college agents.
These are some few of the able men over whom he
had to preside, and to a man so distrustful as he was
282 The Life and Letters of

of himself the task was doubly painful. He Sadie
went on to Philadelphia and New York after the ad-
journment, for Mrs. Andrew was to meet him in New
York in May; but as these were Bishop Hedding’s
Conferences he was relieved-of the burden of presid-
ing. He had many friends in Philadelphia; indeed,
when he was elected Bishop they wished him to set-
tle in that city, and offered to buy him a house.
Thomas Mason, then book agent in New York, was
his brother-in-law, having married his wife’s sister.
We, however, get only one glimpse of him, and that
is given us by Charles Taylor. He was a boy in the
Duane Street Sunday-school, and at an anniversary
celebration held during the session of Conference he
made a speech. Bishop Andrew was present and
predicted that the lad would make a preacher, and
sure enough ten years afterward he was admitted in
the South Carolina Conference, while the Bishop was
President.

Bishop Andrew was now in the prime of his life,
and at no time was his preaching with greater power.
His manner was singularly imposing and his Eng-
lish classic; he never hesitated for a word, and there
was a rich vein of poetic imagery which ran through
his brain and from which he often drew. His brill-
iant personifications of the heroes of the Bible were
thrillingly beautiful.

His wife, I suppose as she had expected to do,
joined him at her sister’s, and he spent the months in-
tervening before July probably in New York and its
vicinity, and in July he started on his tour to the
West. Iam unable to give the list of Conferences.
Probably Ohio, Kentucky, Missouri, Tennessee, Ala-
Fames Osgood Andrew. 283

bama, and Georgia. The three last I am assured of.
Dr. Rivers, who was a young man then at the Wes-
leyan University at La Grange, Ala., gives a graphic
account of his visit to La Grange and his sermon there.

“Tn the fall of 1834 an appointment to preach at La
Grange, Ala., was made for this man of God. He
was just from Athens, Ala., where he had preached in
the court-house yard his famous sermon on family
government. His fame had, therefore, preceded him,
and, although the appointment was for Wednesday at
_ I1 o’clock A.M., he had a large congregation. Many
came from the Courtland and Tuscumbia Valleys.
The text was taken from Hebrews xii: 1:,‘Where-
fore seeing we also are compassed about with so
great a cloud of witnesses.” I have never seen a
congregation more delighted. There was not the
least effort at display, yet that large audience of pro-
fessors and students and citizens and visitors from the
valley were held spell-bound for more than an hour.
Looking unto Jesus! Never did I hear it more viv-
idly illustrated. He described a ship at sea, moving
grandly before the wind. Suddenly a cry is heard,
‘A man overboard!’ All is excitement. Ropes
are thrown out. Strong hands and warm hearts are
there. ‘Look aloft,’ they cry; ‘here, seize this
rope.’ The poor drowning man does not take time
to inquire of what the rope is made, nor whether it
is his own act or the power from above that saves
him. »He grasps it and holds with a tight grip until
he is out of danger and safe on the deck of the proud
ship. ‘Then,’ said the Bishop, ‘every jolly tar on
board gives him a hearty shake, and every passenger
rejoices that a man is saved. | Man on life’s ocean is
284 The Life and Letters of

sailing on the good old ship of Zion. Christ is with
us as our great captain. Many a poor fellow is over-
board, and we throw out the rope of faith. Take hold,
looking unto Jesus. Don’t stop to inquire whether
faith is the gift of God or the act of the man, but
just take hold of the rope and you will soon be safe
on board, and we will all give you a joyful welcome
and a glorious voyage.’ Every eye was on the speaker,
and many overflowed with tears. Without an effort
he had taken captive his entire audience. The Bishop
was the guest of Prof. W. H. Ellison, and I was a
member of his family and his pupil. So the Bishop
endeared himself to me, as he did to us all, by the
simplicity of his manners and his entire freedom from
that show of dignity which inspires awe. We all felt
‘that we were in the presence of real greatness clothed
with the deepest humility.

‘The Bishop was on horseback, and, in company
with Professor Ellison, went through the mountains to
Tuscaloosa, the seat of the Alabama Conference.
Thus he traveled for years after his election to the
Episcopacy. In 1837 he again passed through La
Grange, giving usa brief call and endearing himself
still more to us.”

Leaving Greensborough, Ala., as soon as Conference
adjourned, he made his way as rapidly as possible to
Savannah, where the Georgia Conference was to be
held. He could not reach it in time for the opening
of the session, but arrived shortly afterward and pre-
sided and made the appointments.

He now returned to Augusta, having been absent
nearly an entire year. He had only a short period of
rest, and then he was away again to the North and
Fames Osgood Andrew. 285

West. In July, 1835, he was at Pittsburg. Here he
met a young man with whom he had a most interesting
interview, and for whom he and his venerable asso-
ciate, Bishop Roberts, had a high regard. That
young man is now Bishop Matthew Simpson, and he
gives a short account of this meeting:

** PHILADELPHIA, January 26, 1882.
‘“DEAR BROTHER SMITH: ;

‘‘T had but little personal acquaintance with Bishop
Andrew. I first met him at the Pittsburg Conference
in 1835. I had then been stationed in the city as
junior preacher one year, and assisted in preparing for
the entertainment of the Conference. It was my
second year, and I was one of the class received into
full connection. I shall ever remember the address of
Bishop Andrew, so full of kindly feeling and pastoral
admonition. His sermon on the Sabbath was a
masterly effort, a clear exhibition of ministerial duty
and responsibility, and a fervent appeal especially to
young preachers. It made a deep impression on my
mind and heart

‘‘The evening after Conference closed I was in-
vited to the Bishop’s room, where I met Bishop Rob-
~erts and Dr. Charles Elliot. The subject of conversa-
tion was the probable establishment of a mission
either in China or in Jerusalem. I was asked by the
Bishops if I would be willing to go as missionary to
either country; provided a mission should be estab-
lished. My simple reply was that I was in the hands
of the Church, subject to its appointments, and ready
at any moment to go anywhere. I held myself in
readiness for the work for several years, but it was
286 The Life and Letters of

concluded, in view of the state of the missionary
treasury, that it was not wise to undertake at that
time so large a work.

‘‘T remember with pleasure the Bishop’s frankness
and cordiality of manner, as well as his earnest de-
votional utterances. I never saw him again until the
General Conference of 1844, when I had but a brief
interview. The bearing of the Bishop during those
eventful and trying scenes was personally dignified
and fraternal. I saw him for the last time at the
Louisville Convention, which I attended for a day or
two. as spectator.

‘As a young minister, I had for him a warm attach-
ment and great reverence. I not only admired his
addresses and sermons, but I read with deep interest
his reminiscences.

“It was one of the most painful acts of my life that
I felt obliged to cast my vote against him in 1844.

‘“M. SIMPSON.”
s

I regret Iam not able to speak accurately of this
tour. After he left Pittsburg Bishop Roberts was with
him, and from the times at which these Conferences
met, it is probable he was in Ohio, Missouri, and
Tennessee, returning to Georgia in time to preside
over the Georgia Conference in January, 1836. As
these trips were made in private conveyance, and as
the Conferences embraced large districts, the work of
Presidency was the smallest part of the work. Dur-
ing all these journeys he preached a great deal, for he
made it a rule to preach at every opportunity.

He had now made very extensive trips, almost cir-
cling the United States. In 1836,.the General Con-
Fames Osgood Andrew. 287

ference met at Cincinnati. Roberts, Soule, Hedding,
and Andrew were present. Andrew was much the
youngest of the college. Hedding and Roberts were
both old and feeble, Soule in the vigor of his health,
and Andrew only forty-two. He was an excellent
President, and now, though he was, as he said, too
timid to make a speech in the Conference, he was to
preside over it, and decide questions of parliamentary
law at a time when there were to be subjects of very
great difficulty brought before the body. The Confer-
ence was agitated by questions concerning slavery and
abolitionism, and finally passed resolutions condemn-
ing very decidedly those preachers who took part in
abolition meetings. The Conference elected Fisk,
Waugh, and Morris, Bishops. Fisk declined to be
ordained on account of ill health, but Waugh and
Morris became the colleagues of the Bishop. Bishop
Roberts. was now very feeble, and so was Bishop
Soule. Bishop Emory was dead, Bishop Hedding was
by no means young or strong, and so upon Andrew’s
shoulders fell the hard work of visiting the frontier
and the Southern and Western Conferences. The
college was now strengthened by two valuable men.
With one of these Bishop Andrew was on terms of

. very close intimacy—Bishop Morris. The Confer-

ence adjourned, and he returned to Augusta,
288 The Life and Letters

CHAPTER VII.

LIFE AT CHESTNUT GROVE, AND SECOND QUAD-
RENIUM OF EPISCOPAL WORK.

1836-1840.

Chestnut Grove.—Visitations in the Winter of 1836 and Spring of 1837.—
Visits North Carolina Conference in 1839.—Dr. Edwards’ account of
Missionary Address.—Home Life at Chestnut Grove.

HE Georgia Conference, at the meeting of 1833

in La Grange, decided to establish a Manual

Labor School at some point in Middle Georgia, and

the commissioners had purchased a farm not far from

the village of Covington and established the school
under the care of Dr. A. Means.

Bishop Andrew was President of the Board of Trus-
tees. He felt deep interest in the school, and decided
to fix his home near to it. His mother was growing
quite old and needed his care, and his long absences
from home prevented his seeing her often, so he se-
cured a farm for her adjoining his, and the two families
were settled near to each other. Harbert, who was
now a teacher of no mean repute, taught an academy
near hishome. He could not use his legs, but that he
could use his arms many a Newton County urchin
could testify.

Bishop Andrew presided over the Georgia Confer-
ence in December, 1836, and in the early spring
Fames Osgood Andrew. 289

began his Eastern tour, presiding over the South
Carolina, North Carolina, Virginia, and Baltimore
Conferences. At the Baltimore Conference he or-
dained as‘Deacon a young Englishman who has, while
these pages were undergoing revision, ceased at once
to work and live—Thomas O. Summers. He said:
“T believe my personal acquaintance with Bishop
Andrew began in Baltimore in 1837, when he ordained
me Deacon. I found him affable and kind, and not
disposed to assume Episcopal dignity and impor-
tance.”

In the fall he went again through the Indian coun-
try to the Tennessee Conference, which met in Somer-
ville, Tenn. He thence proceeded farther West,
preaching as he went. Dr. Rivers tells of his meeting
him again at La Grange, Ala., and says: ‘‘A large
crowd went with him on horseback to the Conference.
An appointment to preach at Savannah, Tenn., pre-
ceded him. The people had never seen a Bishop.
Among his traveling companions was Major R. F.,
a gentleman of immense size, weighing nearly three
hundred pounds. The Major was much amused that
he should be mistaken for the Bishop. The people,
of course, took the largest man in the crowd for the
Bishop, and the Major found himself receiving great
consideration, but soon learned that his size had
caused the mistake.”

The Arkansas Conference was cut off from the Mis-
souri in 1836, and Bishop Andrew was now to preside
over it at Little Rock, and from Somerville he made
his way through the bayous and swamps to that
place, where the brave band of pioneers met him.
There was, where there are now four Annual Confer:

13
290 The Life and Letters of

ences, at that time one, with 3,054 white members,
Little Rock was then a station with only thirty-six
members. We shall be able to get a glimpse of this
heroic Conference through the Bishop’s own glasses
after a while. After he left Little Rock he probably
presided over the Mississippi and Alabama Confer-
ences, and reached home in the early part of the year
1838.

His Episcopal tour for 1838-39 began with Georgia,
in December. This Conference, which met in Eaton-
ton, was the one at which his old friend Judge Long-
street became a member. Bishop Andrew had now
presided over his own Conference, in the six years he
had been a Bishop, five times. No wonder he was
surprised, since he had never gone to New England,
and there was no reason why he should ever go, that
his brethren there should be so troubled, in 1844,
about receiving an appointment from his hands. The
South Carolina Conference met in Cheraw, and he
was among his old friends. From thence he went to
North Carolina, where the newly organized North
Carolina Conference was holding its second session.
Rev. Dr. Edwards, of Virginia, a sprightly young
man on the Beaufort station, was ordained an Elder
at this Conference. He says of the Bishop's visit :

‘““My personal recollections of Bishop Andrew go
back to the session of the North Carolina Conference,
held in Salisbury, January, 1839, at which he pre-
sided, and at which time I was ordained Elder, re-
ceiving my parchment, bearing his signature, seal, and
motto. That which impressed me most was his un-
affected simplicity of manners, his gentle and fatherly
counsels, and his savory piety, At that Conference
Fames Osgood Andrew. 291

he delivered an address at the missionary meeting,
which I thought then, and still think, was the most
eloquent, impressive, and powerful missionary address
and appeal that ever fell on my ears from the lips of
mortal man. Since that time I have heard many great
speeches on that subject from the best platform speak-
ers in England and America, but the equal of that
speech I never heard, not even from Arthur, or Pun-
shon, or Farrar, of England; or Durbin, or Capers,
or Pierce, or Munsey, of America. I read a speech
by Rev. Stephen Olin, delivered in Charleston, S. C.,
as early as 1830, that more nearly approximated it
than anything that has ever fallen under my eye, or
on my ear, in all my recollection of missionary ad-
dresses.”’

From thence to Virginia, Baltimore, Philadelphia,
and New York I have been able, up to this time, to
follow his steps with almost perfect accuracy; but
from New York until he returned home I have no
memorandum. It is probable, however, that he re-
turned to Chestnut Grove in July, since the college
work in Georgia demanded his presence. Emory Col-
lege was opened in 1839, and, as he was President of
the Board of Trustees, it is almost certain that he re-
turned at once from the North. If so, he was never
in New England, and never presided over the Oneida,
Genesee, and Troy Conferences. His home during
this period was at Chestnut Grove. His absence from
it was protracted—never less than six months, and
sometimes over a year; but while he was at home
he was not interrupted by calls for work. There were
no railways and no facilities for doing extra labor as
now abound. His mother lived near him. He had
292 The Life and Letters of

his nephews at his house, going to the Manual Labor
School. His dear wife relieved him from all house-
hold cares. It was, indeed, a happy home then. The
dear Amelia, while not vigorous, was able to super-
intend family affairs. Elizabeth was a young lady,
full of brightness; always cheerful. and gentle; Hen-
rietta, or, as he used to call her, his ‘ Little Speckled
Hen,” full of merriment and affection; and Sarah,
now grown up, a thoughtful, sensitive, attractive girl.
Mary was the little girl and Occie the baby. His
salary was not large, but sufficient to keep him from
any. privation. His own health was generally good,
and his spirits, when at home, buoyant. Alexander
MacFarlane Wynne, his wife’s nephew and his foster
son, was an inmate of the family, and John Mood, a
son of his old friend in Charleston and a nephew of
his wife, was also with him. When he came home
everything was made as bright as could be, and he

who seemed so stern and satirical at times was all”

sunshine then. To romp with the children, to saun-
ter over the farm, to go to a country church, to per-
fectly unbend as far as his religion would allow him,
was now his object.

‘He invariably, after a dry spell,” says his nephew,
W. Wynne Mood, “would tumble the children out
into the rain, and sometimes keep them out until they
were pretty wet. Once Brother John, who lived with
him and was among the first of the scholars at the
Manual Labor School, and the Bishop’s daughters,
combined against him in a snow-balling frolic. But
he was irrepressible and would not give up. Finally
Brother John was wearied out, and the Bishop had it
all his own way, and he piled the snow upon John’s
James Osgood Andrew. 293

head and stuffed it down his neck and back. That
night Brother John was hoarse, and Aunt Andrew
sent for Dr. Smith. He said John had quinsy, and
he must be watched very closely. They sat up with
him all night. The Bishop was greatly troubled over
the results of his frolic. However, no harm came out
of it.”

_ There are periods in most lives when care and sor-
row and perplexity seem to declare a truce and leave
the man to the ufmixed enjoyment of the delights
of living. So it was with him at this time. Coving-
ton, a pleasant little town, was a mile away, and Ox-
ford, two miles off, was just beginning to be peopled.
The neighbors were congenial in every way, and
while he was at home they kept the Grove cheerful
with their presence. One of his nearest neighbors
and life-long friend was Rev. Allen Turner, somewhat
of an ascetic, and apparently very stern, with very
decided and pronounced views on all subjects, who
feared neither bishops nor learned men. He was much
loved by the Bishop and by his family. Judge Long-
street had now brought up his family from Augusta
and taken charge of the college in Oxford, and was
often at the Grove. Few men ever loved each other
better than Andrew and himself, and yet what oppo-
sites they were. Bishop Andrew was not a scholar in
the true sense of the term. His ability to use the Eng-
lish tongue has rarely been excelled, and he was a man
of fine information; but Longstreet was a classical
scholar of high grade. The Judge was as playful as a
kitten, and his wrinkled face fairly glittered with mer-
riment; the Bishop appeared stern to those who did
not know him. Longstreet was not emotional, but
204 The Life and Letters of

Andrew was a bundle of warm and intense feelings.
Andrew was a decided Whig, Longstreet a Democrat
of the Democrats ; when they met there was not a
few hits, and brilliant sparks would fly.

The sharpness of repartee was one of Bishop An-
drew’s marks, and the good-natured Judge and him-
self were fair game for each other. Into the family
circle came often the sweet, classic face of George W.
Lane, son of the General Book Agent of New York,
and George H. Round, the classical teacher, and often
Dr. Alexander Means, with his gentle grace and warm
feelings and broad culture. These and many more
united to make Chestnut Grove the happy home it
was to him then, He left, however, for the General
Conference in April. It met in Baltimore, May 1,
1840, and there were twenty-eight Conferences repre-
sented. There were six Bishops: Roberts, aged and
feeble ; Hedding, who had been in the work nearly
forty years, and whose strong frame had been often
shaken by disease, prudent, somewhat of a tactician,
strong in conviction, and, when occasion demanded,
intrepid in conduct; Soule, clear-headed, strong-
willed, immovable as a granite mountain, knowing no
fear save toward God, and scorning all tact; Waugh,
a man of not great parts, but exceedingly prudent
and judicious; Morris, of great body and heart, who
spoke little in private or in public, but when he wrote
or spoke always did it well; and Andrew, now eight -
years a Bishop, forty-six years old, stern in look, gen-
tle in heart, brave as Cromwell and tender as Baxter,
knowing no guide but God and seeking no power
but from His hand. These men composed the Episco-
‘pal college, and perhaps no one of them in 1840 held
James Osgood Andrew. 295

so high a place in the love of his brethren as James
O. Andrew. He had by this time become known to
nearly all of the General Conference, and to know
him was to love him. 7

The Church never seemed so united and prosperous.
The interminable controversy between High and Low
Church parties, which turned upon the election of
Presiding Elders, was now at rest.

The abolitionists had received such a rebuke in 1836
as had quieted most of them, and the Conferences
had shown a spirit so conservative as to promise re-
spite for a long time from this cause of disturbance.
The feeling of fraternity between the sections was
undisturbed by a single sectional issue. There were
no Bishops to be elected, and so the General Con-
ference of 1840, the last before the fatal breach, gave
not the remotest indication of what was coming. The
list of delegates presents a number of names which
have gone into obscurity, with now and then a name
which has a lasting fame. Nathan Bangs, the faith-
ful, plodding, clear-headed father of his Conference ;
Joseph Holdich, then in life’s vigor, who gave pro-
mise of what place he would fill as a scholar and
an author; Orange Scott, the agitator, who went
into a secession shortly afterward ; George Peck, one
of a gifted brotherhood, who knew how to give and
take sturdy blows ; Adam Poe, one of the pioneers;
Leonidas L. Hamline, gifted, scholarly, pious, a little
visionary, perhaps, but full of genuine religious fer-
vor; Peter Cartwright, whose common sense, buf-
foonery, and real wit made a sensation everywhere ;
Andrew Monroe, who, born in Maryland, was now
at work in Missouri, and was to remain there till he
296 The Life and Letters of

stood the father of all the preachers in his Confer-
ence; Henry B. Bascom, the peerless preacher, who
was now ina Kentucky college, and whose fine face
and person were united to grand gifts of intellect;
Thomas N. Ralston, a young man who was to do
great service to the Church with tongue and pen; E.
R. Ames, shrewd, managing, decided, who was after- _
ward to be a Bishop; Robert Paine and John B.
McFerrin, college president and editor, of whom we
have spoken before; John Harrell, who was to die a
missionary to the Indians ; William Winans, the fear-
less Church statesman—these were some of the figures
present. Lovick Pierce, William J. Parks, Ignatius
A. Few, and a young man who in a few years was to
be a Bishop, but who was now not quite thirty years
old—George F. Pierce—came from Georgia.

William Capers and William M. Wightman, a young
man whose voice does not seem to have been loud
enough for the journal to catch it, and whose grand
earthly life has just closed, are among the delegates
from South Carolina; John Early and William A.
Smith, standing as they have stood and will long
stand, representatives from Virginia. From Baltimore,
John A. Collins, who was to lead the crusade against
Bishop Andrew in 1844; Stephen George Roszell,
the Archbishop of Canterbury, as Bascom called him
in the old days of 1828; Henry Slicer, short, firm,
brave, a Democrat when nearly all his Conference were
Whigs, who had liberty to do as he pleased and say
what he pleased when all other mouths were closed
by provost marshals; Norval Wilson, tall, stately,
composed, with massive, towering brow, whose
thoughtful manner gave promise of what was coming
bb PABP

Fames Osgood Andrew. 297

when he rose, which he did but seldom, to speak ;
and Levi Scott, who was afterward to be a Bishop
and the oldest of the college of the Methodist Episco-
pal Church—these were all there.

The Conference had only routine work to do.
Abolition petitions came in by the score, and Orange
Scott presented them only to have them consigned to
committee, who buried them out of sight. There was
no fleecy cloud which betokened the coming storm.
The name of Bishop Andrew is not appended to the
journal, but as he presided a few days before the Con-
ference closed, if he was-called home it was only a
little while before adjournment. He came back to
Chestnut Grove, and aftera few months of rest, started
in his buggy for the West. There was hard work
before. him, and so, leaving the good wife to see after
the unfinished house in Oxford, he, in company with
“*Jacob,” turned his face toward the sunset. Who
was Jacob? Why, the only Jacob of the kind the
world ever had in it—Jacob R. Danforth, the son of an
old Augusta friend, the simple-hearted, dreamy,
poetic-gifted Jacob. Tall, slender, with an overplus
of kindly mannerism, with brilliant imaginings, unsel-
fish, amiable, meek, impracticable, doing constantly
what annoyed you, and rebuking you by the gentle
way in which he took reproof from you—this was
Jacob ; who wanted to be a Methodist preacher, and
was such till his death; and a Methodist pastor, and
was such till they told him he did not suit the office ;
and then meekly left the place and went into a school-
room and did patient, hard work there till he went
home to God.

The first we hear of the travelers is from Holly

13*
298 The Life and Letters of

Springs, Mississippi. Two weeks before he had pre-
sided over the Tennessee Conference at Jackson, Madi-
son County, Tenn. It was dividéd now, and a very
considerable slice of it was transferred to a new
Conference, the Memphis. There were, however, still
six districts in the Tennessee. A. L. P. Green in his
vigor, and Fountain E. Pitts, and Thomas Madden,
and S. S. Moody, all young men and strong, were
Presiding Elders. John B. McFerrin was an editor,
and J. B. Walker and W. D. F. Saurie were among
the stationed preachers. E. C. Slater, who, starting in
a saddler’s shop 'in West Virginia, had secured a good
education, was now first beginning that brilliant career
of usefulness which ended, forty years afterward, in a
martyr’s death during the yellow fever plague in
Memphis. ‘

The first letter we have is from Holly Springs,
where our travelers were resting a few days, and it is
to Elizabeth, who is now a young lady twenty-three
years of age.

‘* HOLLY SPRINGS, Miss., November 21, 1840.
“My DEAR ELIZABETH:

‘‘T wrote your mother a long letter from Jackson at
the close of the Conference, and one to Sarah a week
later, so you have been kept pretty well informed of our
movements. And now, as we are pausing till after
Sabbath in this pretty little town, I thought I would
spend an hour in conversing with you. We left Sum-
merville on Thursday morning and came to the small
town of La Grange, where we spent the night. I
preached there that night and we came on to this
place, where Jacob preached last night and this morn-
James Osgood Andrew. 299

ing, and where I expect, God willing, to preach again
to-morrow. We are staying at the house of an old
friend, Brother Travis, and we dined to-day in com-
pany with Brother McPherson, formerly of South
Carolina.

“ The folks about Denmark were quite disappointed
at not seeing you with me, and I almost repented
that I had not brought you. But you would have
had rough fare, and I know not how or when you
would have been able to return home. Yet I very
often wish I had you to talk with me, as next to
your dear mother there is no one whose society is so
desirable to me as that of my daughter. You are
very profitably, and I hope not unpleasantly, employed
at Chestnut Grove, as I suppose you are commander-
in-chief there since your mother has transferred her
headquarters to Oxford, for she informs me in her
last that she had gone there with part of the family,
though she did not tell me what portion of her dis-
posable forces she had taken from the old encamp-
ment. Pray let me know all about it. Has Hennie
gone with her, or does she remain as your lieuten-
ant? And, pray, how do you all get along? How
does Molly come on reading and sewing? Tell her I
want to get a letter from her before long, and I shall
expect her to make that shirt soon, too, so she must be
industrious. And then what's the news from my lit-
tle pouting pet, Occie ? I hope she does not cloud up
as often as she used to do, but that she is getting to
be quite a good-natured, smiling little girl. Tell her
she must not pout any more while J am away, and
when I come home I must find her as ‘smiling as a
basket of chips.’ And how are they all over yon-
300 The Life and Letters of

der? J hope your dear grandmother is weH and
cheerful, and your uncle Harbert—I suppose his for-
tune is made since Harrison is elected. All the rest
of them, I hope, are doing well. Lovetothem all. I
hope to meet you in Columbus on my way home, and
trust Sarah received my letter before she left for Ala-
bama. Our whole family out here in the West, con-
sisting of Jacob, Corban, and the Bishop, are well,
with the exception that the latter gentleman is labor-
ing under some indisposition from cold. I trust, my
dear child, that you are well, and that you are all try-
ing to urge your way to the kingdom of God. Sarah’s
letter gratified me very much, and its spirit of ardent
scriptural piety pleased me. I believe the same spirit
animates all my daughters, and I think it is not
unreasonable to indulge in the pleasing hope of meet-
ing you all in that peaceful heaven where I hope to
rest when life’s journeyings are past. I trust to hear
from you and H. when I reach Vicksburg. My love
to all at home, white and black. Kiss Mollie and
Occie for me, and when you see Mrs. Anne Amelia
Andrew, of Oxford, present my kind love to her, and |
give her several sweet kisses for me.”

When he reached Vicksburg he wrote home again,
this time to his dearest Amelia. The brave woman
was doing his work and bearing his burdens while
he was away, and she had written him all the de-
tails, and there was a trouble in New York—a great:
preacher had fallen. It is now forty yearsago. Many
good things have been buried in that time, many
ood deeds forgotten; let the memory of this evil
thing be cast into the same grave—only let the lesson
be remembered.
James Osgood Andrew. 301

-* VicksBuRG, Miss., December 3, 1840.
‘“My DEAREST AMELIA :

‘‘J wrote you a long letter from Jackson, which I
trust you have received long since. I wrote to Sarah
the week following, but fear she had returned to
Alabama before it reached her. One week later I
wrote to Elizabeth from Holly Springs, so that I have
kept you constantly informed of my movements.
From Holly Springs I went to Memphis, where I
preached twice on last Sabbath, and on Monday
night, about eight o’clock, took the steamboat West
Tennessee for this place, having left my carriage and
horse at Memphis. We reached here last night about
eleven o’clock, and found on my arrival your precious
letter and one from Elizabeth. They were cordials to
my heart, and I thank you both very sincerely for
them. You have little idea how great a pleasure it is
to me to hear from you. Your letters to me, my wife,
are read again and again. I regret that the unhappy
New York affair should have been a source of so much
temptation and spiritual conflict with you. What
though a thousand saints, tall and strong, should be
cast down from their excellency, yet our faith does
not stand in either the power or the wisdom or the
holiness of men, but in the wisdom, love, and faith-
fulness of a promise-keeping God. ‘He by His oath
hath sworn, we on His oath depend.’ And though
the best and mightiest men on earth fail, yet the foun-
dation of God standeth sure. We know that He is
God, we know that He is true.

“‘ITam glad to see that you are getting along so
well in your arrangements. You write about these
matters in quite a business style. Your plans, so far
302 The Life and Letters of

as you have named them, entirely meet my views. In
all this matter I have entire confidence in your man-
agement, and leave you, my love, to act as your best
judgment shall direct. The Conference is going on
thus far pretty well, and will close, I think, about
next Thursday night, after which, God willing, I shall
probably go to Selma, by way of New Orleans and
Mobile. It will be, on the whole, the most pleasant
route. But the most weighty consideration is that it
will enable me to dispense the Word of God to those
two important cities. Possibly some good may come
of it to somebody. Jacob will return to Memphis and
will meet me again at Selma. By the way, he is
laboring under a very severe cough, otherwise we are
both in good health. I need not say I think of you,
love, and pray for you, and long to see you. My
Amelia knows this without my saying it. Yes, my
precious wife, wherever I am, whatever I am doing,
whoever is around me, in travel, in business, in com-
munion with friends, my heart turns instinctively to
you. I sit with you around the happy fireside, I
kneel with you at the family altar, I go with you in
your daily attention to business, I hear the sweet
tones of your voice as I have been wont sometimes
to hear it, and oh, how I long for the hour when I
shall fold to my heart the best of wives !

“Well, I began this letter last night and have re-
sumed it to-day. I thought to have finished it this
afternoon, but have been obliged to lay down my pen
four or. five times to listen to the speech of some-
body, either crazy or sane, who wanted to see ‘the
Bishop.’ And now I] have been listening for the last
two hours to the squabblings of the Presiding Elders
Fames Osgood Andrew. 303

over the stations of the preachers. I have just gotten
clear of their reverences, and am thinking of home,
sweet home. But Iam weary and cannot finish this
epistle to-night ; trust to-morrow I shall finish it. As
you may feel some interest in my little matters, I
ought, perhaps, to inform you that at Jackson I +
preached before the Conference on family religion,
and the publication of the sermon was unanimously
requested by the Conference. And what is still
stranger, I have absolutely written a number of pages
in the last three weeks.

‘* To-day I delivered a charge to young men who
were admitted into full connection, and was unani-
mously requested, by a vote of Conference, to furnish
a copy for publication. So, you see, they seem re-
solved to drive nie into authorship. Now I wish you
could travel with me, that you might be my amanu-
ensis ; then I might make a book.

“* December 5th.—-Blessed be God, who hath brought
me in safety and in health to the light of another
morning, and who gave me in some good degree the
Holy Spirit’s influence, bringing to my heart peace and
comfort through Jesus Christ. For thirty-six hours
we have had dark, cloudy weather, and this morning
everything around us is white with snow, and the
North wind is playing a melancholy dirge. But then
I am snugly anchored by a good fire. God pity the
poor who have but little fuel, food, or clothing. Tell
Kitty I wish I could drink a cup of her best coffee
this morning. I hope she is doing well and will pre-
serve herself chaste in Oxford. She will be greatly ex-
posed to temptations, and I hope will be carefully
guarded in her conduct. Well, I must bring this
304 The Life and Letters of

epistle to a close, as business will call mein a few
moments. Kiss Occie and Mollie for me, and tell them
father loves them both very dearly and they must be
good girls. Tell Elizabeth her letter gratified me
much; but Hennie has not condescended to give me
aline. My love and kisses to both. Love to mother
and the family. And now, farewell, my dear Amelia.
May God have you in His holy keeping.”
Fames Osgood Andrew. 305

CHAPTER VIII.

OXFORD LIFE.

1841-1844.

Emory College, Oxford.—Daughter's Illness.\—Amelia Andrew’s Fatal
Attack.—Her Death.—Tour to the West in 1842.—Letter to Bishop
Soule.—Visitation of 1843.—lowa.—Indiana,.—lIllinois.—Missouri.—
Arkansas.—Texas.

HE Manual Labor School did not meet all the
demands of the Georgia Methodists, and a col-

lege was decided upon. It was to be located within
two miles of the Manual Labor School, which was to
be an adjunct. It was called Emory, in honor of the
Bishop’s gifted colleague, who had been so suddenly
cut off. The projected village was called Oxford, and
when the lots were sold Bishop Andrew bought a beau-
tiful oak-covered hill, with a spring at its foot, and had
a roomy and comfortable house built on its summit.
On one corner, where the village church now stands,
there was a little school-house, used for a time as the
house of worship. To this house Mrs. Andrew re-
moved while he was on his Western tour in 1840,
and when he returned he found the family domiciled
there. The village was a very beautiful one. Large
oaks covered the hills, the streets all converged to
the campus, and there the college buildings were
erected. The houses were large and neatly built, and
306 The Life and Letters of

the population from among the best people of the
State. The society was very highly cultivated, and the
religious element was almost the only one. No drink-
ing-saloons or gambling-rooms were allowed within
two miles of the college.

Judge Longstreet was then President of the college,
and lived very near the Bishop. Dr. Capers had re-
moved from South Carolina, and was living on the
lot adjoining. Means, Lane, and Mitchell were pro-
fessors in the college. He could not have had a home
more delightful, and he entered it with gladness when
he returned from the West. His sky never seemed so
bright, but alas! it was Indian Summer, and the win-
ter’s blasts were just ahead.

This summer his wife gave birth to her first son,
James Osgood. She had not recovered her strength
when a daughter was confined. She could not be kept
from the bedside; all night long that devoted mother
sat by the suffering daughter. The daughter lived, but
the chill of death entered into the mother’sheart. She
was never well again. The heart disease which had
indicated itself in Athens now rapidly developed and
became the fearful dropsy of the chest. Her life
began to certainly, yet not rapidly, wear away. Her
sufferings were intense, but there was another suffer-
ing more fearful than any physical pain. She was in
spiritual darkness; she could not fee/ that God loved
her, she was not assured of her acceptance with Him.
Those inexplicable hours when the heart cries out for
the living God and finds Him not, which sometimes
come to the holiest, are to those who know God
best and love Him most the Gethsemane that is
only a little before the opening of the gates. I have
Fames Osgood Andrew. 309

spoken of Allen Turner ;, God loved that man, and
that man knew He did; he knew he could trust God.
He knew how to pray to Him, and he prayed for her.
The hour of yictery came. The mother was able to
give up her little ones, her husband, her all. She
never lost the field after that. One day William Ca-
pers, who had known her from childhood, sang at her
bedside as he could sing, ‘‘ Jesus, lover of my soul,”
and she was greatly blessed. She said: ‘‘I am in the
hands of a good God. He wants to save me, and it
requires just such a fiery trial to subdue my proud
heart and bring me fully to rest in Him.”

The day of eternal light came nearer, but the dark
shadows gathered again. She éwew all was well, but
she could not f¢e/ it, and her soul was troubled. Said
Bishop Andrew: ‘I lifted up my heart to God on
her behalf, and about sunset, while offering my peti-
tion in the name of Jesus, I felt a strong and sweet
assurance that all would be right. ‘ Be of good cheer,’
said I, ‘God will speedily deliver you ; He has given
me a pledge that He would.’ ‘Have you been pray-
ing for me?’ ‘Yes, my dear,’ said I, ‘and God
has given me a sweet assurance that He will speedily
deliver you.’ She seemed encouraged, and con-
tinued pleading the atonement and promises of the
Saviour. I left the room, and in about fifteen min-
utes she sent for me. When I entered the room, she
was exulting in God her Saviour. ‘Oh,’ said she,
“how could I be so foolish as to doubt the goodness
of God? Oh, what a day of agony have I passed
through, but my Saviour has delivered me. Oh, praise
Him, all of you; help me to praise Him. I who
have most unfaithful been—sinner was my name, but
308 The Life and Letters of

I am saved by grace; oh, bless the Lord, my soul,
and all that is within me bless His holy name.’ In
this strain she continued, feeble as she was, until mid-
night, to praise God incessantly and to exhort all around
her to serve Him and to meet her again in the climes
of glory, and the burden of all was, ‘ Trust in God;
never doubt Him, never distrust Him, any of you.’

‘‘She had several young men_ boarding with us;
she had them all called in and gave to them a most
solemn charge to seek God and meet her in heaven.
“Look at me,’ she would say ; ‘see my poor emaciated
body ; what should I do now if it were not for the
presence of my Saviour?’ Calling to Kitty, who had
nursed her with the affection of a daughter, she said:
‘Kitty, you have been very kind to me, and I love
you as if you were my own child. Be pious, serve
God, and promise me that you will meet me in
heaven.’ The pledge was given, and now she said,
‘Come kiss me,’ and the negro slave placed her ar-
dent kiss upon the lips of her dying mistress.

“The Lord shed His glory on her dying head, and as
she drew near the end she said: ‘I am like a little
child that is just beginning to walk alone and is go-
ing over a road that is rough and stony. The father
does not take it up in his arms and carry it over, but
he takes it by the hand and helps it along. So it is
with me; I am passing through a dark valley, and
the way is rough, and my feet are bruised, and my
heavenly Father leads me a step at a time; but I
know it is His hand that holds me, and I shall soon
be safe over.’ : :

“‘She pressed my hand in hers and said: ‘ Your
poor Amelia will soon be atrest. God has blessed us
Fames Osgood Andrew. 309

greatly together. When you first addressed me I
scarcely knew how to act. I was poor and you were
poor. I carried the matter to God in prayer, and
these words were powerfully impressed upon me:
“Seek first ‘the kingdom of God, and all these things
shall be added.” I became yours, and we have jour-
neyed together for almost twenty-six years. Yet
God’s promise has never failed us. We have never
lacked; continue to trust Him to the end; He will
never fail you. And now,’ added she, ‘I solemnly
charge you never to falter in your Master’s work.
Preach the Gospel more fully, more earnestly; preach
it with all your might; tell everybody to trust the
Saviour, and if God permits me I shall be your guar-
dian angel in all your journeyings.’”

She sent for my father, Dr. Smith, who was her
physician. As soon as he came she asked him as to
her pulse. ‘‘ Very feeble,” he said. “That,” replied
she, “is pleasant news, Doctor; I am almost home,
and I have sent for you to rejoice with me.”

Her infant son was brought to her. She pressed
him to her bosom and commended him most fer-
vently to God. When she could no longer speak we
perceived she wished to do so. Brother Longstreet,
who sat near her, asked her if she wished to tell us
‘«God was good.” She nodded her head affirmatively
three or four times and fell asleep.

And so went to heaven one of the grandest women
of Methodism. The brave Scotch-American girl who
took James O. Andrew by the hand and went with
him; the woman whom Stephen Olin loved, and
Edward Myers turned to in his hours of trial, and in
whom George Pierce found an elder sister in his most
310 The Life and Letters of

trying day, was worthy of the tribute which Dr. Lov-
ick Pierce paysher. He says in his sermon on Bishop
Andrew : : :

“T trust that it will not be looked upon as irrelevant
to the object of this memorial for me to say, in behalf
of the first Mrs. Andrew, and of many others of the
wives of Methodist preachers, that the Church and
the world owe to their memory a debt of honor that
never has been, and never will be, paid off. Talk as
you will about moral heroism, its finest specimens
will be found among the wives of our noble pioneer
itinerant preachers of the old South Carolina Confer- .
ence. I think myself safe in saying that even your
revered Bishop would have been compelled to give
up itinerancy in these, the mighty years of his man-
hood, if it had not been that Mrs. Andrew preferred to
supplement the meagre income of her husband by the
earnings of her needle at midnight’s weary watch,
rather than see him leave his Master’s work to earn in
some other vocation a living for her and their little
ones. Well might Solomon say in eulogy on great
womanhood: ‘ Many daughters have done virtuously,
but thou excellest them all.’ In the galaxy of noble
women stood Mrs. Andrew; and by her self-sacri-
ficing spirit and deep devotion to Christ and his Church,
she saved her great-souled husband to the Church as
one of its chief pastors. What I say I know; and I
cannot parade the labors of the Bishop before you to-
day for memorial eulogy and leave his faithful Amelia
out, for I am satisfied that this great woman had
much to do in giving us at last a good Bishop.”

Bishop Andrew had watched at her bedside with an
anguished heart by night and day for months, until
Fames Osgood Andrew. 311

the light went out in the sick chamber at last, and, as
far as earth was concerned, the light from his heart
and his home. Those beautiful spring days of 1842
brought no brightness to him.

Elizabeth was now twenty-four years old, a dutiful,
pious daughter, and she took charge of the family.
Hennie was younger, and was now happily married to
Thomas M. Merriwether. She lived at Chestnut Grove,
near her father. Sarah, his invalid child, was an in-
mate of his home. The two little girls and Jimmie,
the baby, made the family. There was, however, an-
other—Kitty, the servant-girl. We have seen the
Bishop’s message to her, and her dying mistress’ in-
junction and caress, and if ever there was a faithful, lov-
ing servant it was Kitty. Jacob and herself were the
only slaves Bishop Andrew ever really owned. A good
woman in Augusta left him in her will this negro—
a mulatto child. He was to bring her up and educate
her as far as he could, and when she reached the age of
nineteen she was to be free to go to Liberia or re-
main with him as his slave. Kitty was a model girl.
Brought up by a mistress who loved her, watched
over by a master who felt the tenderest solicitude for
her welfare, she grew up a pure, good young woman.
She married a colored man named Nathan, and Bish-
op Andrew had a neat little house built for her on
’ his own lot, and she lived here merely in name a slave.
Before her mistress’ death in 1842 she reached her
maturity, and the question of what she would choose
was submitted to her. Judge Longstreet and George
W. Lane were selected to lay the matter before her.
The document, in Judge Longstreet’s hand, says:

‘‘This day, Kitty, a woman of color, left in charge
312 The Life and Letters of

of the Rev. James O. Andrew by the will of Mrs.
Power, came before us, when, in the absence of every
one but herself and the undersigned, the following
conversation occurred : ;

“A. B. Longstreet.— Kitty, your mistress directed in
her will that you should remain with Bishop Andrew
until you reached the age of nineteen, when it was to
be left to your choice to go to Liberia or remain with
the Bishop. The time has now come when you are to
make your choice, and you will do well to think seri-
ously of the matter. If you go to Liberia you will
be perfectly free, as free as I am now. You will be
under laws, to be sure, just as I am, to prevent you
from doing: anything very bad, but you will have no
master, no mistress; you will be in all respects just
like white women in this country; you will have to
work for a living, as all must, but what you make will
be your own. The climate is not as healthy as this,
particularly to persons going there for the first time,
but after you get used to it you would probably live
as long there as you will here. If you conclude to go
the Bishop will send you at his expense. It is a long
voyage by water. If you stay with the Bishop the
will directs that he is to grant you all the privileges
of a free woman that the law will allow, but you
will have to depend upon his character for that, and
you will still bea slave. Now, think of this matter and
make your choice for all time to come. If you have
had any stories told you about that country that
have alarmed you, disregard them. I have told you
the truth so far as I know it. Now, make your

choice.’
“« Kitty.—‘1 don’t want to go to that country. I
Fames Osgood Andrew: 313

know nobody there. It is a long ways and I might
die before I get there.’

‘CA. B. Longstreet.—‘ This, then, is your chatee ey

“« Kitty.—‘ Yes, sir.’

‘CA. B. Longstreet.—‘ Then I may write it down as
your final choice that you remain with Bishop An-
drew?’

“« Kitty—‘ Yes, sir. I don’t want to go there.’

‘‘We certify that the above is as nearly a literal re-
port of our interview with Kitty as we can make.
Not a word was said that could influence her decision
which is not here recorded.

‘<A. B. LONGSTREET,
* “GEORGE W. LANE.
“December 4, 1841.”

Kitty’s decision was final, and she remained, as be-
fore, the faithful friend and dutiful servant, until her
marriage, when she went to housekeeping near by, and
her house was the resort of the children, and “ Mammy
Kitty ” (as the baby called her) was the one to whom,
in hours of childish grief or perplexity, all the troubles
were carried. During Mrs. Andrew’s illness, which
was some time previous to Kitty’s marriage, she was
tireless in her attentions. Watching by her bedside
through the night, and reading the Scriptures and
singing the sweet songs of Zion to her dear Miss
Amelia, was her delight. Her love seemed more like
that of a child than a servant. Toward the close of
that long illness, when the nurses were being ex-
hausted, Kitty still clung to her post, and could with
difficulty be prevailed on to retire for rest. She was
universally respected in the community of Oxford,

14
314 The Life and Letters of

and loved by the members of the Bishop’s family as a
true and faithful friend. In her last hours, when she
felt she must die, she sent for the Bishop and thanked
him for his kind care and for the religious training of
her earlier years. She said, ‘‘ I shall soon seé Miss
Amelia in the better land,” and after commending her
little girl to the Bishop’s daughter, she passed with
triumphant shouts from this scene of toil and conflict
tothe world of brightness and glory above.'

The terrible blow which had’ fallen upon him was
received meekly and unmurmuringly. He said, ‘It
is the Lord,” and went calmly on. Elizabeth took
her mother’s place. Gentle, sympathizing friends did
all that human sympathy could sug’gest, and letters of
tender condolence came to him from’ all sections.
Perhaps none touched him more than this from
Stephen Olin:

‘‘Wust Pouttney, Vi., May 15, 1842,
‘* REV. AND DEAR BROTHER:

‘*T received your letter fraught with the heavy intel-
ligence of Sister Andrew’s death. I thought to: an-
swer it at once, buf could not. My feelings were
much affected—too much to allow me to write. I was

 

1In 1877 I was in Washington, and in company with Judgé McCallis-
ter visited the Department of State. The Judge conversed for a mo-
ment with an intelligent, well-dressed colored man, who was the messen-
ger. Calling to me he said: ‘* Mr. Smith, here isa Georgian.” Giving
the young man my hand cordially, I sdid: ‘You are a Georgian?”
“Yes, sir.” ‘Where from?” ‘* Oxford, sir.” ‘* Why, Oxford is
my old home, Who was your master?” ‘‘ Bishop Andrew.” ‘‘Is it
possible? You were one of his second wife’s slaves?” ‘‘ Oh, no, sir; I
was Kitty's son.” He spoke very lovingly of the Bishop and his care

for him.
James Osgood Andrew. 315

unwilling to add to your grief, and I had no word of
consolation to offer. The solaces of religion were
yours already so far as nature could submit to receive
them, and if they had not been I was not in a state
of mind to suggest them to another, or to very fully
receive them myself. It was only two days previous
to the anniversary of the darkest era of my own life
that I got the intelligence of your sad bereavement,
and the near concurrence filled me with such a sense
of my own irreparable loss that I hardly understood
the character of the agitating emotions that swelled
my heart almost to breaking—whether they sprung
from sympathy or selfishness. And now my eyes are
darkened by tears which I cannot control. My
sense of my own sorrow almost suppresses all other
feelings, yet I wept for the loss of dear Sister Andrew,
for you and your half-orphaned children. I wept,
and still weep, and only find some relief from such
sorrow as I seldom experience by carrying your
griefs and others’ and mine to the compassionate
Saviour who careth for you, who is. very compas-
sionate, who can be touched with a feeling of our own
infirmities, and who assuredly will, though it may
be after days of heartrending agony, appear for our
healing and comfort, who will cause a saving balm to
flow in upon the wounded spirit, even from the dregs
of the bitter cup of which we are called to drink. Do
not infer from my strange way of feeling and writing
that I am not very much alive to your great loss. I
ought to be able to speak as a comforter, as I trust I
am recognized by you in the character of a brother
and friend. If I had possessed more piety, more
faith, I should long since have found resignation and
316 The Life and Letters of

settled composure under God's dealings with me, and
have derived from them some lessons of submission
and experience which might be blessed to the assuag-
ing of the grief of other sufferers. It is not so with
me. I can only suffer with you—I cannot offer com-
fort. I am ashamed to write in this way to you,
overwhelmed as I know you are with sorrow, and
wish I had not begun; but I could not delay any
longer, though I feared to trust myself. Well, God
has taken our better parts to Himself and left us with
but a poor excuse for leaving this world. He has
firmly shut us up to the one work of serving Him and
getting to heaven, which is all the dearer and more
attractive for the precious gems it has snatched from
us. The compassionate Saviour will not be dis-
pleased, I think, if we labor and long for that resting-
place the more diligently and intensely, because in
addition to the bliss of being forever with the Lord
we also covet a re-union with those whom the im-
pulses of both nature and grace have taught us to
love only less than His adorable Self.

“IT look back upon my long acquaintance with
your sainted wife with lively sensibility, and shall not
cease to remember her kindness to me when I was a
member of your family nearly twenty years ago. I
was in bad health, generally sick, and she felt for and
did for me all that an own sister could feel and do,
and from that time she has seemed to me something
more than a common friend. On my return from
abroad, solitary, heart-broken, stricken of God, one of
the first messages of sympathy and greetings of wel-
come met me in the form of a kind letter from dear.
Sister Andrew. I remember well how directly it
James Osgood Andrew. 317

went to my heart, and made me feel beyond any cir-
cumstance that I now recollect that I was again at
home, that I had friends still though I had lost my
all. The memory of these things is precious to me
now that God has taken her to Himself, and I will re-
member the message she sent by you in your previ-
ous letter, that ‘though we should meet no more on
earth -we should in heaven.’ Through the strength
of Christ I will meet her there. Yes, my brother, you
will labor and gather many stars for your crown, and
I shall wait in the midst of my infirmities, doing
nothing but still looking for the Lord’s coming, with
my lamp trimmed, and in the end we shall all—yours
and mine, you and I—meet in heaven. Glory to God
for this blessed hope, this only antidote.

“©S. OLIN.”
Bishop Morris wrote :

‘CINCINNATI, OHIO, June 28, 1842.

‘“My DEAR BROTHER: °

‘‘It is a long time since I had the pleasure of re-
ceiving a letter from you, but this only reminds me
of my own delinquency as a correspondent. It would
afford me much pleasure at any time to hear from you,
and especially now when we are both drinking the
bitter cup of sorrow. I have for some time been con-
versant with your heavy family afflictions, so far as
they have been made public, which remind me of the
saying: ‘The same afflictions are accomplished in
your brethren that are in the world.’ I have read
with deep interest the biographical sketch of Sister
Andrew published in the Southern Christian Advocate,
and, while I feel much sympathy for you and your
children, I am thankful that one so generally and
318 The Life and Letters of

favorably known in the Southern division of the Church
was made the chosen subject of supporting grace in
the season of affliction, and especially in the last try-
ing hour.

‘We, too, have been called to drink deeply of the
cup of affliction and sorrow. Our family has not
been free from sickness one hour since last October,
nor has any member, except my unworthy self, es-
caped severe illness. Some of them have recovered,
but my daughter is even now in a low and critical
state of health. Her husband is much indisposed,
and their youngest son has been dangerously ill for
three months and will probably not be able to en-
dure his sufferings much longer. It is six weeks
to-day since my beloved wife (for a full account
of her case see Ladies’ Repository of June) was
mercifully released by death from her severe and pro-
tracted sufferings, and they have appeared longer to
me than any twelve weeks of my previous life. No
tongue can tell or pen record what she endured, and
the thought that she is at rest from all her sickness,
pain, and sorrow forever is to me cause for gratitude.
Still I need not say to you, who have experienced the
same, that it is a sore trial. In her I have lost my
best earthly friend, the one to whom I was under
more obligations than to any other human being. To
‘be deprived of her sympathy, example, counsel, and
prayers is areal loss—a loss so great that though I
have been expecting and trying to prepare for it for
months, it was with difficulty, for a time, that I could
realize it. Into whatever room ofthe house I entered
after her interment, for days I involuntarily looked to
see her familiar form, and as I recover from this de-
Fanes Osgood Andrew. 319

lusion the thought that I shall see her no more on earth
falls like the night of death upon my sinking heart. I
am not in the habit of speaking thus among the
brethren, but you are prepared to appreciate the
liberty I use, and a free expression of my thoughts
seems to relieve my own feelings. Thank God, I do
not sorrow as they who have no hope, and when I re-
sume fully my appropriate work I trust I shall feel
still more relieved.

“T expect to leave this week on my summer and fall
term of Conference appointments, and shall be under
a heavy press of business and travel till November.
I should be glad to hear from you at Wheeling, Va.,
by July 20th, or at Cleveland, Ohio, by the first week
in August, or at any subsequent Conference. It may
be proper for me to say to you, before you leave for
the Tennessee Conference, that my Conference claim
hereafter will be $6.82.

“It is matter of regret that the brethren in Virginia
did not leave off strife before proceeding to such
length, though you have good reason to feel perfectly
easy so far as you are concerned. Whether it was or
was not expedient to make the changes which have
caused such needless excitement about Richmond is a
question which brethren at a distance, and, of course,
without sufficient knowledge of the facts of the case,
do not seem inclined to form any judgment on. But
that your act was fully covered by law no intelligent
brother in this country doubts, so far as I have learned
their opinion, and your prudence in declining any
part in the newspaper discussion, beyond a simple
statement of what you did and why you did it, turns
the scale still more in your favor.
320 The Life and Letters of

‘‘Please remember me kindly to the brethren of
your neighborhood, pray for me and accept the as-
surance of my solicitation and prayers for yourself and
family.

“Yours with much esteem and affection in Chris
tian bonds,

“THO. A. Morris.”

But not a flower was laid upon the grave of the
sainted wife which was so sweet as this tribute paid by
Hennie to her mother :

ON A MOTHER'S DEATH.

*Twas holy Sabbath morn, bright, beautiful,
And o’er the earth’s soft dress of tender green
The April sun rose with bright, beaming smiles,
Flooding the landscape with his golden light

As if ? enhance the charms his warming rays
Had drawn from earth’s late cold and dormant bosom.
No sound was heard save hum of murmuring bee,
Or mock-bird’s silver note, as ’mong the flowers
He flitted merrily from bough to bough,
Scattering a rosy shower. And blent with these
Came floating softly on the gentle air

The church bell’s solemn tones,

There was a chamber near the village church
Where a fond mother bade farewell to all-

That earth held dearest ; and as peal on peal
Stole through the open casement, ’twas to her
The welcome summons to a heavenly rest.

She had in childhood given herself to God ;

In womanhood her hand and heart were join’d
With one who was commissioned to go forth
And bear the gospel standard. To his trust

He had been faithful. And as he had given

His life to that high mission, she had hers,
Fames Osgood Andrew. 321

The blessed cause lay nearest to her heart,
And all that woman in her quiet sphere

May do was done to aid the glorious object.
Trials which those alone can know who fill
Her station had been hers.

« * * * * *
* * * * * *
* * * * * * .
* * * * * *

And there were, too,
Other strong ties which wound more closely round her
As life’s last threads were slowly disuniting.
Beside her couch was he who for so long
Had, as her life, been dear—who ever through
All scenes of joy or woe, had been the same
Kind, tender friend, on whom her heart could lean,
And find fond sympathy. Oh! ’twas a grief,
A bitter grief, to leave that cherished one !
And there were other children too—some who
Had learned to buffet with the storms of life,
And some too small to feel their loss. The babe,
Which played and laughed within the arms of her
On whom would soon devolve the mother’s cares,
Had seen scarce half a year—her only son,
The mother’s love clung strongly to the child,
Long, painful, had the struggle been, indeed,
But it had been successful, Every tie
The dying saint had yielded. She now gazed
With angel’s vision far beyond the tomb.
It was too bright a scene for silent joy ;
And ever and anon for many days,
Had the weak body seized the spirit’s strength,
And raised the joyful shout: ‘To God be glory,
And to the Lamb, who died that I might live’
And even now, when breath came gaspingly,

14*
322 The Life and Letters of

The sweet, ecstatic joy of perfect peace,

Was manifest in few, short, earnest words,

Oh! who could doubt that heavenly hosts were nigh,
E’en mingling with.us, round that bed of death?
And when the breath had passed, :and lifeless sunk
The clayey temple, glorious angel forms,

It seemed to me, were almost visible

To mortal eyes, as on their rain-bow wings,

They upward bore:their sister spirit home !

In the first moment of the spirit’s change,

I thought that there were happy meetings too
With loved ones gone before, who formed a guard
To escort her to their blissful home above,”

In August, 1841, Hennie had married Thomas M.
Merriwether. He was a young man from one of the
best Georgia families. David Merriwether, his grand-
father, had been one of the leading men and one of the
first Methodists in the State. Thomas was a young
man of fine mind, good education, and solid piety, and
well to do in the world. The father could not have
been more gratified at a marriage. The two young
people took charge of:Chestnut Grove, which the hus-
band purchased, while Lizzie and the little ones re-
mained at Oxford. It had beena long dreary vacation
from his Episcopal work, and he was ready for his
tour which called him again to the far West. Leaving
Oxford in his carriage, he made his way over the
mountains to Athens, Ala., where the Tennessee Con-
ference met, and from thence rode into the little town
of Holly Springs on Tuesday afternoon, ready for his
week’s work as President of the Memphis Conference
—which began the next day. He snatched time to
write a letter to his new son-in-law, Thomas M. Mer-
riwether, and says 7“ I trust you are all getting along
Fames Osgood Andrew. 323

well temporally and spiritually ; be sure, my dear chil-
dren, to live very near to God, cultivate constantly
a spirit of closet piety and your public acts will be in-
fluenced by the grace of God. Never be satisfied
without enjoying every day the peace and blessing of
God in your own hearts. Remember that life is only
valuable as it is used to prepare for a glorious here-
after.”

From the Memphis he went to the Arkansas Con-
ference. Returning, he attended the Mississippi and
Alabama Conferences, and traveled across the State of
Georgia down to Savannah, where the Georgia Con-
ference met. He was not at the opening, but was in
time to preside over the closing sessions and make the
appointments. He had traveled all this distance, in
the five months of his absence, in private conveyance.
He preached constantly as he went. Work was not
only his duty, but was a relief from sorrow. His
preaching was full of simple earnestness, but it is not
a matter for surprise that he was no longer the grandly
eloquent declaimer he had been. The testimony,
however, of those who heard him was that his preach-
ing was replete with power.

-His tour ended at Savannah, and he hastened back
to Oxford. The home was a desolate one, and. the
returning hour, when he knew she would meet him
no more, was sorrowful enough; but Elizabeth was
there, and so were the little ones, and it was still home.
‘He remained there for some months, and we may be
sure did much work.

During the early part of this year Bishop Roberts
died, and Bishop Soule wrote him requesting him to
preside over some of Bishop Roberts’ Conferences ,in
324 The Life and Letters of

the far West. He consented to do so in the following
letter :

‘‘OxrorD, GA., May 17, 1843.
‘‘My DEAR BISHOP:

‘‘T received your favor a few days since and wrote
almost immediately to Brother Wright, requesting
him to insert a notice in the Advocate that I will, God
willing, attend the Indiana Conference. I wish I
could have been home to assist you at some other of
your Conferences, as I am not without some ap-
prehension that such a long string of Conferences in
succession will prove rather too heavy a tax upon
your strength. Such, however, are the peculiar cir-
cumstances of my family that I fear I shall not be
able to leave home before the first of August. I was
glad to see from the papers that your health was so
greatly improved by your European trip. I trust
your return to your own country has produced no
deterioration in that respect, but rather that your
health is steadily improving. You have a heavy work
before you during the next six or eight months. May
the Lord abundantly strengthen you for its toils and
cares | :

‘Tt is a sore trial for me to leave home for so long
a time as I shall be obliged to do in my next tour. To
leave my motherless little ones is doubly trying now,
when she in whose wisdom, prudence, and piety I
could place the most undoubting confidence, is no
longer with them to guide. But the will of God is good,
and I would uncomplainingly submit, trusting all to
Him in whose hand are the destinies of men and angels.
The burdens and responsibilities of the Episcopal
Fames Osgood Andrew. 325

office I have always felt too heavy for me to bear, but
never have they pressed so heavily upon my heart as
during my last tour of Conferences. Other men, con-
stituted differently, may perhaps sustain it better, but
I suffer so much anxiety that my health almost com-
pletely gives way in one or two instances. This
circumstance, taken in connection with an abiding
consciousness of my own want of qualification, has led
me to indulge pretty serious thoughts of resigning my
charge and returning to the ranks in an Annual Con-
ference. The state of the Church, too, afflicts me.
The Abolition excitement, I fear, has never presented
an aspect so threatening to the union of the Church
as it does at this moment. May the good Lord over-
rule all for the ultimate furtherance of His own
glorious cause. I look forward to the next General
Conference with very great apprehension. The vacancy
occasioned by the removal of the venerable and be-
loved Roberts must be filled, and, with the necessary
enlargement of the work, some additional strength
must be added to the Episcopacy or the work must
run down, or at least suffer very materially now. The
thing must be done, and yet I dread the result. The
policy of the majority of the General Conference on
this subject, I think, is fully settled, and I greatly
doubt whether the South will longer submit to this
avowed proscription, What are we to do?”

Before he began his tour, Elizabeth, who had been
his housekeeper, and who had had care of the little
ones, married Robert W. Lovett, a young graduate of
the college. He was, like Merriwether, of a capital
Methodist family—a young man of good mind and of
deep piety. He afterward became a physician and a
326 The Life and Letters of

local preacher, and is still living—a warm friend and
supporter of the Church, -with two sons, children of
Elizabeth, in the South Georgia Conference. The
-Bishop’s correspondence -with his children was very
constant and sprightly.

His own Episcopal District, for 1843, embraced the
frontier Conferences, and called for long and weary
traveling. He left home in August, and went by
stage to Nashville, leaving Oxford in the stage-coach.
He says: “I was in the stage alone with a fine op-
portunity for indulging those melancholy feelings
which always oppress my heart when called away
from home and those precious loved ones who are
there. Let none ask whether I have not yet become
accustomed to leaving home. No; IJ never shall be—
no, never! It is as painful now as at the first, and
will never become lessso; but I am.God’s servant; to
his service I have consecrated my heart and my life,
and my strength he knows best. God is everywhere:
this .is.my comfort.”

He passed through Marietta, Georgia, which was
even then a thrifty village with four churches, and.on
through Cassville to Rome. He reached Decatur, Ala.,
by Saturday noon, preached at a camp-meeting on
Sunday, and then went to Nashville where he found a
pleasant home with his old friend Hill. Nashville,” he
says, ‘‘ was a pleasant little city of some twelve thou-
sand inhabitants. It was a place, too, of considerable
trade. The Methodists had one large church ,called
McKendree, and another on what was called College
side.” The city had improved a good deal since his
first visit, and would probably, he thought, continue
to do so for some time.
JYames Osgoad Andrew. 327

From Nashville he went down the Cumberland to
Smithland. He reached St. Louis, and, in company
with J. F. Wright, the agent of the Western Book
Concern at Cincinnati, he began his journeyings to
the upper Mississippi.

The Rock River Conference, over which he was to
preside, included Iowa and Wisconsin Territories, and
a part of Illinois, and in all this section there were
then but 15,000 members. It was to meet this year
at Dubuque, Iowa, on the upper Mississippi. To
reach it they started on a steamer for Keokuk, and
then took coach for Burlington. Although in the
Territory they were still three hundred miles from
the Conference. They passed by Nauvoo where the
Mormons had their temple—thence on the steamboat
again and through a beautiful country to Dubuque.
He was several days behind time, but was ready for
the Sunday ordinations. After Conference closed from
Dubuque he went by the river again from Galena to
the rapids and around them to Keokuk, and thence
down the river to Quincy, Ill. Here he presided
over the Illinois Conference, in which there had been
great prosperity during the year. He now began his
journey by land to Lexington, Mo., where he met the’
Missouri Conference. Where there are now three
Conferences, there was then only one, and it was quite
feeble. Here he became for the first time acquainted
with a promising young man who was sent to the
Liberty Circuit—Enoch M. Marvin, and here began,
on Marvin’s part at least, that deep love which grew _
with all the years and which the Bishop so heartily
returned.

From Lexington he went down the Missouri to St.
328 The Life and Letters of

Louis, where he was the guest of his friend and
brother, Gay, and, on the morning of October rath,
away again, and this time eastwardly across the State of
Illinois, to Crawfordsville, Ind. The immense change
which has taken place in forty years in the whole
country, and the difficulties of travel, are brought out
very strikingly in his letters published in the Southern
Christian Advocate,and afterward in his “Miscellanies.”
The Indiana Conference was to meet in Crawfords-
ville, and so, leaving St. Louis by stage, he began his
journey to it. The mounds which give St. Louis the
name of the Mound City, and the boulders on the
prairies, excited his attention and aroused his curiosity.
The glacier and iceberg theory was not so generally re-
ceived then as now and those puzzles of the geologists,
huge granite boulders, lying detached on the surface
of wide stoneless prairies, were without even a plausi-
ble hypothesis to explain their presence. The coun-
try was most of it uncultivated and uninviting. The
stage moved slowly on its way, and on Friday the
travelers reached Terra Haute, Ind., and finding good
quarters, they decided to remain there till Monday.
Terra Haute contained then about twenty-five hundred
inhabitants. He preached twice in the little city, and
on Monday left for Greencastle, the seat of the Indiana
Asbury-University. Matthew Simpson, now Bishop,
was President. Bishop Andrew says: ‘‘I cannot but
anticipate a bright future for the Indiana Asbury Uni-
versity.” Leaving Greencastle, he reached Crawfords-
ville by stage, and presided for the last time over the
Indiana Conference. He says: ‘‘ We had no jarring
notes making discord among us, and although the Con-
ference was one of the largest in the connection, the
Fames Osgood Andrew. 329

work was finished in a week’s time. . . . . The
preachers, the most of them, seem to be comparatively
young men, and animated, as I think them to be by the
right spirit, the Church has much to hope from them.
Upon the whole, I must say, very fine fellows those
Hoosiers.”

The Conference he had just presided over was a
very large one. There were sixteen districts supplied
with preachers. Thirty-one preachers were admitted
on trial, and there were 67,447 members in the Con-
‘ference. He now turned his face toward Cincinnati,
from whence he expected to start with his old friend
Wright to the Arkansas Conference. After some de-
lay they left Cincinnati in a boat, and reached Mont-
gomery Point on the Arkansas River. Some of the
dreariest pages in the annals of Episcopal travel are
those which tell of travel in Arkansas. The rich val-
leys along the river banks were then almost trackless
swamps. To pass through them required courage,
strength, and patience.

This journey was made with great difficulty. On
a Mississippi steamer to Montgomery’s Point, now
Helena, thence to a point on White River opposite
Little Rock, and sixty miles away from it—then
through the mud by the stage, and thence by a
steamer, which ran on a sand bar, with a river falling ;
and then on foot for five miles, and from Dwight, the
Mission station of the Presbyterians, to Clarksville.
This was his third visit to Arkansas.

There was a heroism about those frontiersmen
which delighted him. There was nothing he had
such a contempt for as whining over hardship. He
never did it himself, and he therefore disliked it in
330 The Life aud Letters of

others. The Indian Missions were in the Arkansas
Conference lines, and the Bishop was displeased with
the scanty appropriation made to fields so needy.
He did not hesitate to express his dissent from the
course the Board of Managers, as the Board was then
called, had pursued. The Mission work lay very
near his heart, especially work among the Indians and
the negroes, and he devised large things, and did not
take it well when a less sanguine Board put on the
brakes. He now descended the Mississippi, stopped
a day or.two with Bishop Soule in Mississippi, and
went on to New Orleans, on his way to Texas. He
reached Galveston, and soon met his young friend,
Thomas O. Summers, who tells of the meeting :

“In 1839 I received from the Bishops and Board of
Managers of the Missionary Society, an appointment
as missionary to Buenos Ayres. Understanding that
I was willing to go anywhere as a missionary, and not
knowing that I was appointed to Buenos Ayres, Bishop
Andrew appointed me to Galveston—the other ap-
pointment was cancelled, and to Galveston I went.
In 1843, Bishop Andrew came -to Texas to hold the
Texas Conference. I had returned from the United
States reduced to a skeleton by yellow fever and its
relapses. The Bishop found mein Galveston, and dis-
suaded me from going to Conference, but go I would.
We went to Houston in a rickety steamboat, which
gave the Bishop some concern, as it seemed not un-
likely that we should go to the bottom of Galveston
Bay. But we reached Houston safe, if not sound. I
had another relapse, and the Bishop said he was in-
clined to say with authority that I should not proceed
to Conference. I replied, that if he did say so I
Fames Osgood Andrew. 331

must submit, as a son in the gospel, but that I in-
tended to start the next day, and would beat him to
Conference, if I could. Seeing me thus resolute, he
yielded. I told Brother Charles Shearn—a noble
man, and devoted friend—to get three horses, one for
the Bishop, one for himself, and one for me—which
he did. They put me on my steed, with medicines,
etc., and on we went, about sixty miles o# horseback,
by water—as the country was overflowed with a flood.
The Bishop and I had to lie at night in a muddy, damp
place, which one would think would cost us our lives.
But we got to Father Robinson’s, in Montgomery
County, where the Conference was to be held. The
Bishep presided, in primitive style, which he seemed
to enjoy. I did all the work of Secretary of Confer-
ence and of the Missionary Society—and besides I
took down the Bishop’s charge, which I thought the
best I had heard, and I know not that he ever excelled
it. It was published in one of the church papers—in
New York, Cincinnati, or Charleston—I forget which.
I have no copy, as my papers were destroyed by the
invading army, and by the publishing house fire.
Andthere I may say that I had consumed a valuable
collection of manuscripts of the Wesleys—father, and
his sons—Coke, Asbury, Clarke, McKendree, Soule,
Andrew, and others—together with many of my own.
** Take when thou wilt into thy hands,
And as thou wilt require !
Resume by the Chaldean bands,
And the devouring fire!

‘©T had a voracious, morbid appetite at that Con-
ference, which greatly interested the good Bishop. I
thought it no good omen—nor was it.
332 The Life and Letters of

‘*No one accompanied the Bishop and I on our re-
turn to Houston. The Conference wished to send
me to the General Conference of 1844, but I declined
election, as I was about to return to the United
States, to join the Alabama Conference. The con-
sequence was a Northern man was sent, and, when
the tug of war came, he took sides against Bishop
Andrew in the memorable trial.”

Homer S. Thrall, the indomitable frontiersman, who
still abides, and is still on the outer line, says of this
visit :

“In the exercise of his Episcopal functions Bishop
Andrew five times visited Texas : in 1843, 1849, 1850,
1852, 1860, and in 1865. At his first visitation, ex-
cept a few appointments on Red River, the whole
Republic was included in the Texas Conference.
During the Fall of that year, floods of rain fell in all
parts of Texas, rendering it almost impossible to tra-
verse the lower portions of the country. My own
field of labor was near the coast, and I scarcely made
a round upon my circuit without having to swim, and
to reach Conference had to make long detours and
swim innumerable creeks and bayous. When Bishop
Andrew arrived at Houston, he was assured that it
would be useless to try to reach the seat of the Con-
ference ; but he answered that it would be time for a
Methodist preacher to stop when he could go no
farther. In company with T. O. Summers he started,
and by tall wading, some swimming, and the use of
flat boats and rafts, they made the trip. In telling us
about his difficulties the Bishop referred to an inci-
dent in the life of Bishop Soule, who, once, when en-
countering similar difficulties in almost impassable
Fames Osgood Andrew. 333

Swamps, was assured by his traveling companion that
further progress was impossible through the appar-
ently interminable morasses. The Bishop pointed to
the tracks in the road and declared that where others
had come he could go, and they proceeded on their
journey and reached their destination. ;
“Conference met December 13, 1843, at a place
known as Robinson’s settlement, in a church named
‘Martha Chapel,’ from Mrs. Martha Robinson, a
venerable matriarch of the neighborhood; but as it
was near the Trinity River, Dr. Summers, our Secre-
tary, gave it the name of ‘ Trinity,’ and so it appears
in the minutes. At this session Brother Summers
‘was transferred to Alabama and left with the Bishop.
In 1840, Bishop Waugh transferred Abel Stevens back
to New England, and thus Texas lost two of the most
distinguished writers in American Methodism. The
wise counsels of the Bishop, his fatherly manner and
deep spirituality, made a most happy impression upon
the Texas preachers, and they went promptly and
joyfully to their various fields of labor. With William
S. Hamilton, of blessed memory, I was assigned to
the Egypt Circuit, which then embraced a good por-
tion of eight counties, including a number of circuits
and stations now in the Texas Conference, and the
‘ entire occupied territory of West Texas Conference,
except one circuit to which J. W. Devilbiss was sent.
There were then forty-one itinerant ministers ; fifty-
five local preachers, and about five thousand mem-
bers in Texas. Four elders’ districts were presided
over by R. Alexander, Littleton Fowler, John Clark,
and Francis Wilson, of whom the venerable Dr.
Alexander is the only survivor, and he is a feeble

~
334 The Life and Letters of

superannuate waiting in faith and patience for -his:
discharge.”

“«The Conference was eighty miles from Houston.
They could reach Houston by steamboat; then they
were to make their way the best they could. They
reached Houston, then a snug little city, and found a
brick chapel, which had been built by the labor of
young Summers. The menfbership was not large nor
wealthy. Everybody warned them not to make an
attempt to get to the chapel, but it was his duty to
try, and try he would. So they started in the rain,
Summers, Shearn, an English gentleman, and the
Bishop. Summers left his bed to go. They had bor-
rowed some horses, and after four hours travel, or
rather ploughing through the mud, they had gone
nine miles. Night overtook them long before they
reached the end of the day’s journey. The whole
prairie was inundated—the water was up to the knees
of their horses, and sometimes in a slough their own
feet were covered. The stars above them gave all
the light they had, and ‘‘save the sound of our
horses’ feet splashing in the water, the shrill cry of
the crane, or the noise of numerous flocks of wild
geese and ducks, which were startled upon our ap-
proach, there was no sound fo break in upon the
gloomy silence of the scene around us; unless we ©
chose to keep our own voices employed, which we
did pretty freely by way of cheering each other's
spirits.” They reached the tavern at last, and found
a kind welcome from a clever hostess. Through dif-
ficulties of this sort they pressed on until they met
the brave body of Texans in Conference at Martha’s
Chapel. There were four districts, and four thousand
Fames Osgood Andrew. 335

members. Of the preachers then in active work in
Texas, there is now only one living—Homer S.
Thrall. The young Englishman was plucky enough,
but not strong enough for the frontier, and so the
Bishop took him with him to Alabama, where he
planted him in Tuscaloosa. From Texas he came as
rapidly as possible toward Georgia, and early in Jan-
uary he reached Oxford. His journey had been ex-
tensive and wearying, and rest was sweet.
336 The Life and Letters of

CHAPTER IX.
DIVISION OF THE CHURCH.
1844-1846.

Second Marriage.—Happy Surroundings.—General Conference in New
York.—Excitement on the Subject of his Owning Slaves.—Gen-
eral Conference Proceedings.—His Speeches.—Passage of the Fin-
ley Substitute.—Return to Georgia.—Resolution of Southern Dele-
gates,—Visitations.—Convention at Louisville.—Conference Tour
in 1845.—General Conference in 1846.

EFORE Bishop Andrew went to the West, he
had made an engagement to marry Mrs. Leo-

nora Greenwood, of Greensborough, Ga. The condi-
tion of his family, and his long absences from home,
made this a necessary act; so, without undue haste,
and with great discretion, he had selected a second
companion. At this time he was fifty years old, and
she forty-five. She was very attractive in person,
beautiful in manners, gentle in spirit, and deeply,
though undemonstratively pious. She was by no
means wealthy, yet possessed a few family slaves.
These slaves could easily have been sold, and the
money invested in stocks, would have freed her from
the care and anxiety in which slaveholding involved a
conscientious owner, and Bishop Andrew might have
escaped censure. He was eminently a self-poised man,
always acting on his own convictions, and fearlessly
 
Fames Osgood Andrew. 337

doing what he believed to be his duty. Not for a mo-
ment ‘apprehending any serious trouble or notoriety
from his marriage, he had not the remotest idea that
the step would be the occasion of widespread church
strife. He needed a wife, and Mrs. Greenwood suited
him. They had known each other many years. He
would marry her—and, so, marry her he did.

After the marriage he conveyed to his wife, in due
form of law, all the rights in her property which the
fact of marriage had given him as her husband. This
was done from a sense of duty to her and her chil-
dren, and to avoid the appearance of having been
actuated by mercenary motives. Under the laws of
Georgia in force at this time, such a conveyance would
‘have been unnecessary, for the woman’s property at
marriage continues to be her own after_that occur-
rence. When Mrs. Andrew died in 1854, the law re-
invested him with rights in this same property, but_
he promptly dispossessed himself the second time,
and turned it all over to her children. Mrs. Andrew
and her daughters, Eliza and Carrie Greenwood, were
taken to the Oxford home, where the Bishop's
grown daughter, and younger children awaited a
mother’s tender care. The darkened home again be-
came bright. The residence was large and beautifully
situated in a delightful village—there were no pecu-
niary pressures—the old friends were near by, and
above all, the mistress of the house, an exceedingly
lovely woman, was a devoted wife, a gentle mother,
and an agreeable hostess. Letters of congratulation
poured in upon him, and he was happy. No man
could have had less expectation of the storm that was
soon to break upon him, than himself. He loved his

15 .
338 The Life and Letters of

Northern brethren with a very deep affection—an af-
fection which continued tender and strong until death.
He rejoiced in the strength of a united Methodism,
and deplored any agitation in either section, on any
subject that threatened its existence or impaired its
vigor. He would not, for any price, especially for
such a one as holding on to an office which he wished
to surrender the year before, have done anything to
produce it.

No man has ever charged Bishop Andrew .with a
breach of faith; but it has been charged, and that,
too, by one who loved him as well as man was ever
loved by man, Stephen Olin, that he was indiscreet ;
and more than one has said, that in this marriage he
erred in judgment, and by this error divided the
Church. It is assumed that but for the Episcopacy
having become by his act involved in the odium of
slave-holding, that the slavery question could have
been kept where it had been for many years gone by,
and the unity of the Church preserved. It is true
that the Church did divide in 1844; itis true that he
was called to account for holding slaves; it is true
that his wife did own slaves when he married her;
but that his marriage affected the division of the
Church is denied. That he had any reason to sup-
pose it would cause strife is denied. He did have
some apprehension that a few extremists might object
to it, but it was an apprehension which seemed to
have so little foundation in probability that his friends
smiled at it. His most partial friend must admit that
if he had known the excitement which followed his
marriage, and had had any reason to have supposed
it would have been prevented by his resignation,

.
Fames Osgood Andrew. 339

that before his marriage that resignation should have
been decided upon. No man of proper feeling will
say that duty required him to remain a widower, or
to marry the woman he did not prefer because 2 part
of the Church was opposed to a slave-holding Bishop;
but if he had reason to suppose the results which did
follow, would have followed, the marriage should have
been preceded by the resignation.

T have said Bishop Andrew did not expect trouble
from this marriage, and there were good reasons why
he did not; for he himself had been a slave-holder
for several years prior to this, in the very same way
that he was now—through his wife. This fact had
in no way been concealed—yet about it there was
no -complaint—concerning it there was no inquiry.
Thousands of the best men in the Church were slave-
owners, and many of the preachers, itinerant and local,
elders and deacons, were in the same condition. Dr.
Olin, at that time highly esteemed in the North, and
even in New England, had owned slaves, and having
sold them, had the proceeds of the sales still in his
possession. The General Conference appointed slave-
holders, such men as Dr. Capers, to positions of dis-
tinction and trust; and only eight years before had’
strongly condemned the societies of Abolitionism ;
and many of the extreme men of New England had
_ actually gone out of the Church and formed another
connection, because their views were not received.
Neither the spirit nor the letter of the law of the
Church had been broken. On what ground, then,
knowing all these things, could he suppose that his
marriage with an elegant and pious lady, who hap-
pened to own a few slaves, but who would have been
340 The Life and Letters of

an acceptable member of the Methodist Episcopal
Church anywhere in the land, would call forth a tem-
pest of such violence as would destroy the unity of
the Church? The fact is, he had no dream of such
a result. Nor was he aware of any excitement on the
subject, until he reached Baltimore in April, when on
his way to the General Conference in New York, in
May. Here he learned of the intense excitement
caused by the news that one of the Bishops of the
Methodist Episcopal Church owned slaves, and had
the first intimation that it would be a matter for Gen-
eral Conference investigation. From the very first,
the duties of the Episcopal office had been unpleasant
to him, and for some time past, he had been kept in
the position only by the sternest sense of obligation
to God. If his conscience could have been made
easy—if it could have been shown him that the cause
of Christ, and the good of Methodism, required his
resignation, most gladly would he have surrendered
the office and returned to his old Conference labors
and associations. He had a woman's delicacy of feel-
ing, and to have his private affairs publicly discussed
by a General Conference was abhorrent to his very
‘soul. Thinking over all these matters, he did resolve
to resign, and so expressed himself both in Baltimore
and New York. This resolution, however, he did not
execute, for reasons which will presently appear.

He reached New York, and presided at the session
of the General Conference.. It was now generally ex-
pected that trouble would come, and so it did, right
early in the session. The anti-slavery men had been
making strong efforts to secure control of the Con-
ference, and had succeeded. A presidential election
Fames Osgood Andrew. 341

was not far ahead, and political animosities, blinding
and embittering, were entering into ecclesiastical
affairs. And now came the appeal case of Harding
from the Baltimore Conference. This case involved
the relations of preachers to slavery, and was so man-
aged as to array the opposing elements against each
other, and to make it next to impossible to consider
with calmness any matter connected in any way with
the slavery question. This case was at length dis-
posed of, but it left a large part of the Baltimore Con-
ference delegation in line with the extremists.

I desire to do exact justice to all. Iam not to make
comments nor even to write a general history of the
course of this Conference. I am calmly and dispas-
sionately to review the course Bishop Andrew took
in this affair. I have said he wished to resign—that
he had resolved to do so. No tired soldier ever so
longed for a discharge as he did to be relieved from the
toils and sacrifices and responsibilities of his office.

After his purpose became known to the delegates
from the Southern Conferences, the following paper
was put into his hands:

“Ata meeting of the delegates of the several Con-
ferences from the slave-holding States, with two from
Illinois, convened in the Greene Street Church in the
City of New York, for the purpose of considering a
communication from the Rev James O. Andrew, one of
the Bishops of the Methodist Episcopal Church, in which
he proposes to resign his Episcopal office, the follow.
ing ministers were present, viz.: John Early, Thomas
Crowder, William A. Smith, Leroy M. Lee, Peter
Doub, James Jamieson, William Capers, William M.
Wightman, Charles Betts, H. A.C. Walker, George F.
342 . The Life and Letters of

Pierce, William J. Parks, L. Pierce, John W. Glenn,
James E. Evans, A.B. Longstreet, Jesse Boring, J. Ham-
ilton, William Murrah, G. Garrett, William Winans,
Benjamin M. Drake, John Lane, G. M. Rogers, L.
Fowler, J. Clark, J.C. Parker, W. P. Ratcliffe; A. Hun-
ter, G. W. D. Harris, Samuel S. Moody, W. McMahon,
Thomas Joiner, E. F. Sevier, Samuel Patton, Thomas
Stringfield, H. B. Bascom, William Gunn, H. H. Kav-
anaugh, E. Stephenson, B. T. Crouch, George W.
Brush, W. W. Redman, William Patton, J. C. Berry-
man, J. M. Jamieson, J. B. McFerrin, A. L. P. Green,
Thomas Madden, Jonathan Stamper, N. G. Berryman.
Dr. L. Pierce was called to the chair and L. M. Lee
appointed secretary. The meeting was opened with
prayer by the Rev. Dr. Capers.

The Rev. John Early offered the following re-
solution :

“« Resolved.—That Bishop Andrew be requested not
to resign the Episcopal office. The Rev. W. McMahon
moved to amend the resolution so as to appoint a
committee to write an address to Bishop Andrew, re-
spectfully and affectionately requesting him not to
resign.” :

After a very general and entirely harmonious in-
terchange of opinion upon the whole subject, Dr.
Capers offered the following substitute, which was
accepted and unanimously concurred in:

“* Whereas, Bishop Andrew has signified to the dele-
gates of the Conference in the slave-holding States a pur-
pose to yield to the present distressing urgency of the
brethren from the Northern States, and resign his office
of Bishop, and whereas in a meeting of said delegates
to consider this matter, after solemn prayer and much
Fames Osgood Andrew. 343

deliberation, it appears to us that his resignation would
inflict an incurable wound on the whole South and in-
evitably lead to division in the Church, therefore we
do unanimously concur in requesting the Bishop, by
all his love for the unity of the Church, which his re-
signation will certainly jeopardize, not to allow him-
self for any consideration to resign.’

‘On motion the meeting adjourned to meet again
on the rise of the General Conference to-morrow,
Saturday, May 11th.

“A true copy of the minutes.

“L. PIERCE, Chairman,
“Leroy M. LEE, Secretary.”

Resignation now became almost an impossibility.
And when it was intimated that he had broken faith,
and that he must resign*or be deposed, chen resigna-
tion was out of the question. The issue had to come.
The Conference must pass his character or lose the
South. If it did this, and left him where he was,
the extremists, especially in New England, would go
off. He had violated no law, not an official act was
illegal ; how to reach the case and satisfy the extrem-
ists was a question of very great moment. The attack
was not made by the pronounced abolitionists, who
were comparatively few in the body, but by the Anti-
slavery men, who were quite numerous. It was de-
cided that it should be made by the Baltimore Con-
ference, one of the most conservative in all the past -
history of the Church, and that Mr. Collins, who had
conducted the Harding case, should make the initial
move. It came up in the form of a resolution which
simply asked for information on the subject of Bishop
344 The Life and Letters of

Andrew’s connection with slavery. To the resolution
he made the following response:

‘‘ DEAR BRETHREN :—In reply to your inquiry, I
submit the following statement of all the facts bearing
on my connection with slavery. Several years since an
old lady of Augusta, Ga., bequeathed to me a mulatto
girl, in trust, that I would take care of her until she
should be nineteen years of age, and with her consent
I should send her to Liberia, and that in case of her
refusal I should keep her and make her as free as the
laws of the State of Georgia would permit. When
the time arrived she refused to go to Liberia and of
her own choice remains legally my slave, although I
derive no pecuniary advantage from her, she continu-
ing to live in her own house on my lot, and has been,
and stillis, at perfect liberty to go toa free State at her
pleasure, but the laws of the State will not permit her
emancipation, nor admit such a deed of emancipation
to record, and she refuses to leave the State. In her
case, therefore, I have been made a slave-holder le-
gally, but not with my own consent.

“* Second.—About five years since, the mother of my
former wife left to her daughter—not to me—a negro
boy, and as my wife died without a will, more than two
years since, by the laws of the State he becomes legally
my property. In this case, as in the former, emancipa-
tion is impracticable in the State, but he shall be at
liberty to leave the State whenever I shall be satisfied
that he is prepared to provide for himself, or I can
have sufficient security that he will be protected and
provided for in the place to which he may go.

“¢ Third.—In the month of January last I married my
James Osgood Andrew. 345

present wife, she being at that time possessed of slaves
inherited from her former husband's estate, and be-
longing to her. Shortly after my marriage, being un-
willing to become their owner, regarding them as
strictly hers, and the law not permitting their emanci-
pation, I secured them to her by deed of trust.

“Tt will be obvious to you, from the above statement
of facts, that I have neither bought nor sold a slave,
that in the only circumstances in which I am legally
a slave-holder emancipation is impracticable. As to
the servants owned by my wife, I have no legal re-
sponsibility in the premises, nor could my wife eman-
cipate them if she desired to do so. I have thus
plainly stated all the facts in the case and submit the
statement for the consideration of the General Con-
ference.

«Yours Respectfully,
‘JAMES O. ANDREW.”

These facts were all known before, but they were
now before the Conference fairly, and under the signa-
ture of the Bishop himself.

Since 1836, the most constant agitation of this sub-
ject had been going on, and the South was becoming
extreme in one direction, while the North was going
to extremes in the other. The Anti-slavery feeling *
was in many cases calling for abolition by any means
whatsoever. The mass of the Northern preachers
were opposed to slavery, but they were not Abolition-
ists. They found themselves hard put to it to defend
their position. When now it was known that a Bishop
was a slave-holder, they felt they were in a sad pre-
dicament. The strife in the Church in New England

15*
346 The Life and Letters of

was constant-and bitter. Even Hedding, the most
pronounced Anti-slavery man among them, was de-
nounced in his own section for his moderation. The
conservatives felt the weakness of their position. If
it was a moral evil, how could they condone it? If
it was not, how could they condemn it? Could they
say it was~a sin, and yet permit bishops, secretaries,
editors, and members to practise it ? The South, too,
had become very restless under the proscription which
she endured, and saw she was destined to endure.
She had ‘taken an advanced position also. The
ground that slavery was an evil which was to be ex-
tirpated as soon as possible (which was the old posi-
tion of the church), the extreme men of the South had
abandoned, and they had reached the conclusion that
involuntary servitude was good, and that the evils
of slavery, as they existed, were not necessarily con-
nected with a system of labor without contract. Con-
demning all the moral evils which attended the sys-
tem, they contended that these could be better cor-
rected, and were less in the aggregate, than the evils
which would follow emancipation. They believed
that in Church and State the matter was one to be
managed alone by the people among whom it was
found. They claimed that the church had gone too
‘ far in having an utterance on the subject—but that
the South was willing to stand by the law of the
church. The General Conference was composed of
these parties and of a third which proposed to con-
ciliate the extremists by rigid adherence to the old
“tradition of the church—that no slave owner should
preach if he could not divest himself of the incubus
of slave-holding. The case was now fairly before the
Fames Osgood Andrew. 347

Conference. It was evident that there would be no
resignation voluntarily tendered. The hope that the
issue would be avoided in this way was seen to be
baseless, and again two members of the Baltimore
Conference were put forward to lead the attack. A
preamble and resolution was presented by Alfred
Griffith and John Davis, reciting the fact that it had
been an invariable usage to elect no one to the Epis-
copal office who owned slaves, and that a bishop who
did so, could not discharge his duties with acceptance
to that part of his charge where slavery did not exist ;
that Bishop Andrew was nominated by the slave-
holding States because he was not a slaveholder, and
as he had become one, ‘‘ Therefore, Resolved, that
James O. Andrew is hereby affectionately requested
to resign,” Mr. Griffith will be recognized as one of
the actors in the old Presiding Elder controversy, and
it will be remembered that he was on the low church
’ side of that question. In his view a bishop was sim-
ply an officer of the General Conference, as was a book
editor or missionary secretary, and if there was any-
thing in his character or circumstances that rendered
him objectionable to that body, he might, with perfect
propriety, be requested to resign, or be deposed with-
out trial. It was only a question of expediency. It
was the old position of 1820 restated with a different
application, on a different issue. Mr. Griffith argued
the right of the General Conference to ask the. resig-
nation. Mr, Sandford of New York presented the
expedicncy of its doing so. Dr. Winans, who was
present at the election of Bishop Andrew, a delegate
from Mississippi, followed in a speech making some
bold and very impressive statements. He said that
348 The Life and Letters of

the North did ot accept Bishop Andrew because he
was a non-slaveholder—that the South did zot put
him in nomination because of that fact—and that it was
designed by Northern men, now engaged in this cru-
sade against him, to elect a slaveholder. at the very
time Bishop Andrew was elected. Dr. Bangs as-
serted that Bishop Andrew had been elected from the
South because he was not a slaveholder, and inti-
mated that his election resulted from this fact alone.
This statement was reiterated in the reply to the pro-
test. Dr, Winans denied this. So did Dr. Capers.
Dr. Pierce said that his freedom from all connection
with slavery at the time might have secured him some
votes, but was not the main motive of his election.
Though there were many speeches, the main points
are those herein glanced at.

The North claimed the right to depese a bishop
for any cause whatever that rendered him unaccepta-
ble to any part of his Episcopal district. The South ,
denied this right. The North said it was expedient
to ask this resignation—the South denied it. The
discussion was Christian in spirit, and courteous in
language. There were, however, some exceptions to
it. In so large a body, and on such exciting subjects,
there are always exceptions. It was admitted by the
speakers from the North, that Bishop Andrew was a
model bishop, and that no personal blame was to be
attached to him for the condition of things around
him ; but since this condition did exist, there was but
one course left for the church—he must get out of the
way. To ask him to resign was so painful to many
who did not want a slaveholder in that office, that Mr.
Finley, of Ohio, introduced his famous substitute.
Fames Osgood Andrew. 349

The preamble and resolution read as_ follows:
“Whereas the discipline of our church forbids the
doing of anything calculated to destroy our itinerant
general superintendency, and whereas Bishop Andrew
has become connected with slavery by inheritance
and otherwise, and this act having drawn after it cir-
cumstances which in the estimation of the General °
Conference will greatly embarrass the exercise of his
office as an itinerant general superintendent, if not in
some places entirely prevent it, therefore, Resolved,
that it is the sense of this General Conference that he
desist from the exercise of this office so long as this
impediment remains.”

Mr. Finley was Bishop Andrew’s personal friend,
and offered the substitute, believing it to be less offen-
sive to the Southern delegates than the original resolu-
tion. But it was really more offensive, because, since
he could not conscientiously remove the zmpediments,
it amounted to permanent deposition.

No man in the Conference was more strongly at-
tached to Bishop Andrew, perhaps, than Dr. Olin.

The night before he was to speak, he visited the
_ Bishop and told him the course he intended to take,
and why he would take it. He would advocate the
substitute; for, if it was not passed New England
would go off, and there would be division and disinte-
gration everywhere in the North. But if it were
passed the South would go off and there would be
union and peace in all her borders.

It is the province of church history to tell the
story of this great debate, than which, few, if any,
have been abler. We, who look at it after forty years
have gone by, can easily see the embarrassments of
350 The Life and Letters of

the situation on both sides, and can credit each party
with the talents- and honesty, and piety which is
claimed for it by its friends. The Northern delegates
could not hide from themselves the fact that the anti-
slavery feeling had gone far beyond all its former
bounds, and that they must not only respect it but
must yield to it, or that the church would be torn
asunder with strife and discord. The Southern dele-
gates could not hide from themselves, now that the
issue was made, that to yield to the demand of the
anti-slavery feeling was simply to destroy Method-
ism in the entire South. .

Bishop Andrew was in no proper sense the cause of
all this trouble, he was only the providential occasion of
it. No one could blame him for his position, and yet
it seemed impossible_for him to stand where he did,
and the unity of the church be preserved. During
the debate he kept silent. At last he said, with
reference to resignation: ‘“‘ That he heard first in
Baltimore of the matter and was assured, when he ar-
rived in Néw York, that he must resign or be de-
posed. He never thought the subject would become
one of grave discussion. If he had offended the
Discipline, he was willing toresign. He had no fond-
ness for the Episcopacy especially in the form in
which it was held by the Conference, and he pitied
the man who could remain in it, or accept it at
their hands. If his resignation was necessary to the
peace of the Church, he would at once make it, and
return home to labor among the slaves, as he had
done, and to save those upon whom their pretended
friends were inflicting suffering and ruin.’ After a
very earnest speech by John A. Collins, Bishop
Fames Osgood Andrew. 351

Andrew, says the journal, evidently laboring under
powerful emotion, spoke as follows. The address is a
somewhat lengthy one, it is full of feeling and elo-
quence. He felt, he said, but was offended with no
man. The most of those who had spoken had treated
him respectfully. Brother Hodges, in 1832, asked
him to allow himself to be put in nomination for the
episcopacy. He declined to do so, and at last only
consented so as to secure peace. He was never asked
if he was a slave-holder. No man asked him what
his principles on that subject were. He told William
Winans he was in unison with him on that subject.
He was forced to Azve slaves. He believed it would
have been less a sin to have bought one. He added:
“It is known that I have waded through deep sorrows
during the last four years. I have buried the wife of
my youth, the mother of my children, who left me
with a family of motherless children who needed a
friend and a mother. I sought another, and with this
the Conference has nothing todo. I found one who I
believed would make me a good wife and a good
mother for my children. I had known her long.
My children knew and loved her. I sought to make
my home a happy one. I did so deliberately and in
the fear of God, and God has blessed our union. I
might have avoided this difficulty by resorting to a
trick, by making over those slaves to my wife before
marriage, or by doing as a friend who has taken
ground in favor of this resignation suggested: ‘Why
did you not let your wife make over these negroes to
her.children, securing an annuity to herself from them ?’
Sir, my conscience would not allow me to do this
thing. If Ihad done so and these negroes had passed
352 The Life and Letters of

into the hands of those who would have treated them
unkindly, I would have been unhappy. Strange as it
may seem to you, brethren, I am a slave-holder for
conscience sake. I have no doubt that my wife
would, without a moment’s hesitation, consent to the
manumission of those slaves, if I thought proper to ask
it. But how am I to free them. Some are too old to
work and only an expense to me, and some are little
children. Where shall I send them? But perhaps
I shall be permitted to keep these helpless ones.
Many of them would not go. I believe the provi-
dence of God has thrown these creatures into my
hands and holds me responsible for their proper treat-
ment. I secured them to my wife by a deed of trust
since our marriage. They were hers, if I should die
they would be her dependence. Sir, I did not be-
lieve for a moment that this body of grave and rever-
ent ministers would make this a subject of serious dis-
cussion, I thought it likely some ultra Brethren
would take some exception to my course, and on that
account I did not make a deed of trust before mar-
riage, lest some should suppose I. designed to dodge
responsibility. I have no confession to make. I
intend to make none. I stand upon the broad
ground of the discipline on which I took office, and if
I have done wrong put me out. . . . Itissaid I
have rendered myself unacceptable to the people. I
doubt this. I have just returned from Philadelphia,
where they knew me to be a slave-holder ; they flocked
to hear me, and the presence of God was with us.
We had a good, warm, old-fashioned meeting. I may
be unacceptable in New York, yet from the experience
I have had, I doubt that. To whom am I unaccept-
James Osgood Andrew. 353

able? Not to the people of the South, neither
masters nor slaves. Sir, I venture to say that in
Carolina or Georgia I could get more votes to-day for
the office of Bishop than any supporter of this resolu-
tion, should the Conference think proper to pass me.
There is plenty of ground where I can labor acceptably
and usefully. The Conference can take its course,
but I protest against the proposed action as a viola-
tion of the laws of the Discipline, and an invasion of
the rights secured to me by that book. I enter no
plea of mercy. I make no appeal for sympathy. I
wish you to act coolly, deliberately, and in the fear
of God. But I would rather the Conference would
change the issue and make the resolution to depose
the Bishop and take the question at once, for Iam
tired of it.”

This is an epitome of this grand vindication. He
stood that May morning surrounded by the associates
of many years—by those with whom he had traveled
over the wild prairies of the West, and those with
whom he had taken sweet counsel in the cities of the
East—men who he knew loved him, and yet who were
arrayed against him. He had heard some remarks so
rude, so insulting, so harsh, that he would have been
less than a man not to have winced under them. He
had heard also a vindication from those who opposed
his election, and with whom perhaps he was still no
favorite. Then, too, he saw with alarm the Confer-
ence was about to declare, as a right of the body,
what he believed would destroy an independent Epis-
copacy. Had the vote been taken after this speech
the result might have been different from what it was.
But the debate continued for several days longer.
354. The Life and Letters of

Strong efforts were made by the Bishops and moderate
men to stay the tide, but all in vain. On the 1st of
June the vote was taken, and III were for, while only
69 were against it.

This was a virtual deposition from office. Grieved
but not surprised, he left for his home in Georgia.
During the session he wrote the following letters to
his wife and daughter.

“ NEw YorK, May 14, 1844.
‘My PRECIOUS DAUGHTER:

“Your third letter on the same sheet with Robert’s,
was received yesterday. I need not tell my dear
children how much pleasure it afforded me to hear
from them. Your letters will be always gladly re-
ceived by your fond father. Thank God, I have a
blessed affectionate family of children as ever father
was blessed with, and I believe, take us all together,
few families are more affectionate and happy than ours.
God Almighty graciously and abundantly bless you
every one, Oh, that I were this day in my own pre-
cious happy family circle, how greatly would I prefer
its sweet quiet to the everlasting thunder and din of
this great, miserable, dirty city! But I cannot see
my loved ones as yet; I must wait patiently. My
dear Elizabeth, I have thought a great deal and felt a
great deal about you in view of your approaching hour
of trial, which will probably have passed before you
receive these lines. . . . Tell your mother I have
written to her about four times since I came here and
have received one letter from her. I should have
written to her to-day, but as I am writing to you, this
must suffice for the whole family for a day or two.
Fames Osgood Andrew. 355

‘* However, I intend writing to her in the course of
the week, or as soon as I hear from her again, which
I trust will be soon, as I am very anxious to hear how
she is and how Orange and Billy have got. I fear she®
has had a troublesome time in my absence. God bless
her, I wish I was there to relieve her. ;

‘* As to the General Conference, thus far it bias done
little else but quarrel. The old subject of slavery has
come up in every shape and form. They are, some
of them, in great trouble about having a slave-holding
Bishop, and I should greatly relieve them if I would
resign; but the delegations of the different slave-hold-
ing States have held a meeting and have unanimously
protested against my resignation, under amy circum-
stances, as ruinous to the whole Southern portion of
our Church. In fact, I believe they are solemnly
pledged, if I resign, that they will to a man secede
from the Conference. I would most joyfully resign,
if I did not dread the influence on the Southern Church.
I shall therefore wait patiently awhile longer to see
how the wind blows. The clouds are dark, but God
is in the whirlwind and guides the storm. My loveto
Robert and Sally, and Henry and Thomas, Molly and
Ocky, and my pretty little boy, as he callshimself. Oh,
how I want to see him and hear his sweet, artless prat-
tle. Kiss them all for me, and don’t forget a warm
sweet one for your mother.”

“New York, May 16, 1844.
‘‘My Precious WIFE:
‘“‘T have been looking very anxiously for a letter
from you this whole week, but up to this time I have
looked in vain. I received a letter from Robert and
356 The Life and Letters of

Elizabeth a few days since. They mentioned that
you had been sick with a headache, which news made
me increasingly anxious to hear from you. I know
you ought not write at all shortly after your headache,
and wish you to avoid everything which gives you
pain, yet my Leonora will forgive me when I say I
long to hear from her own hand. Do, my love, write
to me weekly, if you can write only a dozen lines.
Robert mentioned that Billie and Orange’ were sick,
and I am anxious to hear how they are. I fear you
have had a fatiguing time nursing them, and wish I
were there to help you in your work. I trust that
you are all well and doing well, and that all our dear
children are in health and happy. How I would re-
joice to see the faces and hear the voices of those dear
ones‘ so greatly beloved by me. Oh, my own
dear sweet home! The sweetest spot on this green
earth, how gladly would I spend the balance of my
life in your society! But we must trust God and
obey him.

‘‘These good people have found out that Iam a
slave-holder, and as they are too religious to hold any
sort of communion with such a sinner as a slave-
holder, they are exceedingly anxious to get clear
of me. But the entire delegations from the twelve
slave-holding Conferences have met, and through a
committee, have earnestly protested against my re-
signation under any circumstances, as inevitably de-
structive to the Southern Church; and for the sake of
that Church I have resolved to maintain: my position,
and await the issue. Now don’t say ‘That’s what

 

1 Colored servants,
SFames Osgood Andrew. 357

you got by marrying me’—no, my love, I was a
slave-holder before I married you, and you know it’s
just as wicked to own one as fifty, so you are no-
way implicated in the matter, and if you were, there
is no wrong in it in the sight of God or sensible men.
I have broken no law of God or the Church, and I re-
gard the whole procedure as an impertinent inter-
ference with my domestic arrangements. 1 intend to
wait patiently and leave the issue with God. If any
measures are taken against me publicly the whole
Southern Church goes with me. We have a prudent,
discreet committee from both sides of the Conference,
who are endeavoring to devise plans for an amicable
adjustment of all existing difficulties. God, I trust,
will direct them, though I confess I am not very
sanguine. One thing I know, God is wise and good, and
sitteth King above the water floods. Should a separa-
tion take place between the North and South, I think,
from the present temper of the Conference, we will
probably separate peaceably, which is greatly desirable.
Don’t be uneasy, my love, all will be right; and let
the General Conference do or say as it will, one thing
I know: God has given me one of the best wives in
the world, and that Iam a happy husband. God be
praised for the precious gift.
“‘ JAMES O. ANDREW.”

“NEw York, May 25, 1844.
“My Own EVER PRECIOUS WIFE:

‘«T wrote to you a few days since, but as I know your
anxiety to hear from me, I write again, and hope you
will receive it next week. The Conference has had
my case before it for several days past. I have
358 The Life and Letters of

been handled pretty freely by the speakers, but so far
not a word has been uttered derogatory to my char-
acter as a man, a Christian minister, or a Christian
Bishop. Nay, they say that in all these things I stand
No. 1, and then I have heard the following state-
ment made: ‘That if Bishop Andrew had searched
the whole United States, he could not have found a
lady better fitted for a Bishop’s wife than the one he
has married.? Now, my love, you know I would have
endorsed every: word of it—at least I would have
said there was not another woman on earth who
would have suited oxe Bishop as well as you do. So
you see, my precious, that one good thing has grown
out of the trouble: I have found cut what a great man
I am considered in the Connection—a matter which I
should not have otherwise discovered. As to what
they have said about you, I knew all that, and a great
deal more, long ago. Now, my love, I have no doubt
you will see a great deal published in the papers on
this subject, but don’t let it trouble you at all.

‘‘T am in good health, and quite calm, and I have
no doubt, under the blessing of God, all will be over-
ruled for the promotion of His glory and the ultimate
good of the Church. I don’t believe they can injure
me at all. But if they do, as I told you in my last let-
ter, they can only unbishop me, and I shall return to
labor in the country around home, and be perhaps
more useful, and I am sure happier, than in my present
circumstances, for I should be nearer to, and more
constantly with; my own precious wife and family. I
trust they will get through with the case on Monday,
and if so they may possibly close the Conference by
the last of the week. This, however, is doubtful. As
Fames Osgood Andrew. 359

soon as the matter is'settled I will let you know the
result. Meanwhile don’t let my Leonora trouble her-
self at all about the issue of this affair. It will all be
right, for God is the judge and he is king in Zion. I
leave in the course of an hour or two, God willing, for
Philadelphia, where I expect to preach to-morrow, and
return on Monday.”

‘¢ PHILADELPHIA, May 26th,

“You will perceive that I have been safely kept to see
another day, even another holy day. God be praised
that he has kept me and blessed me as he has. [I left
New York last evening about five o’clock, and reached
this city about eleven o’clock in safety. This morn-
ing I am in good health, and enjoy, I trust, a sweet
consciousness of divine acceptance. Yet I do not en-
joy as much of the divine presence as I desire, or as
Ihave sometimes enjoyed. I felt it exceedingly dif-
ficult to keep my mind free from excitement and pre-
judice against certain men who have taken a prominent
and active part in this strange and unparalleled course.
And yet I ought not to indulge any unkindness toward
them—they are very probably acting honestly. Oh,
my blessed Saviour, give me grace to quell every feel-
ing and temper which is contrary to Thine own
divine and glorious example. If I would agree to free
the slaves I would be a very clever man, but how
could I free them? Where would they go, and how
support themselves? As a Christian and a man of
humanity I could not let them go without some
security for their support. I knew from the begin-
ning that you would consent to anything that I might
judge proper, and the assurances to this effect in your
360 The Life and Letters of

letter have endeared you to me but the more, if that
were possible. I will endeavor to act for the best in
all.circumstances, and I know my Leonora will be satis-
fied with whatever I do in the matter.

“Love and a kiss for all, and may the everlasting
arms be underneath you, is the prayer of your

“‘ Affectionate and happy husband,
“JAMES O. ANDREW.”

The after-history is well known; I shall not enter
into it here. A separation was suggested, and at the
instance of the Southern delegations the Southern

e Conferences were authorized to form asecond General
Conference, if they thought best. Before leaving this
subject the reader must see Bishop Andrew’s course
in its true light.

First.—He never intimated, when his friends put him
out as a candidate for the office he held, or allowed his
friends to do so for him, that he was opposed to the
slave-holding of the South, and that he would never
hold a slave.

Second.—He had, however, in deference to the feel-
ings of the most ultra, never bought a slave.

Third.—He had become possessed of them without
his volition, and could not conscientiously rid himself
of this relation of ownership.

Fourth.—After his marriage, when he found that
dissensions might arise, he desired to resign, in the
interests of peace, and refrained from doing so only
when he found an immediate and violent division of
the Church would result.

Fifth.—He stood upon his disciplinary rights, be-
cause a surrender of them, under the circumstances,
SFames Osgood Andrew. 361

he believed, would establish a principle that would
subvert the polity of the Church and of its discip-
line. é

_It should also be noted that the North did not strike
at him, but at slaveholding, and at the doctrine that
the General Conference has not supreme jurisdiction
over Bishops as over other officers; and that the
South did not defend him as a man, but defended the
law which permitted slaveholding, and the doctrine
that the Episcopal office is not under the jurisdiction
of the General Conference, the Conference being only
the agent of the Church to see that the Bishops obey
the law. Bishop Soule presented the view held by
the South on this point in an able speech, and urged
the Conference to pause before they laid on Bishop
Andrew the mandate to cease from Episcopal labor.
Many did not consider the resolution as mandatory,
but only advisory ; and the Conference finally adopted
these resolutions :

First.—That Bishop Andrew’s name should stand
on the Minutes, the Hymn Book, and the Discipline.

Second.—That the rule in relation to the support of
a Bishop and his family applied to Bishop Andrew.

Third.—That whether any and in what work Bishop
Andrew be employed, is to be determined by his own
decision and action in relation to the previous action
of this Conference in his case.

In reply to the protest of the Southern delegates it
was said, ‘‘ The action of the General Conference was
neither judicial nor punitive ; it neither achieves nor
intends a deposition, nor so much as a legal suspen-
sion. Bishop Andrew is still a Bishop, and should he,
against the expressed sense of the General Conference,

16
362 The Life and Letters of

proceed in the discharge of the functions of his office,
his official acts would be valid.”

That the Conference was conscientious all may
agree. But whether it was just to the South and to
Bishop Andrew, and whether the concessions made
to the extremists were wise, are matters about which
good men will differ. One thing at least the Confer-
ence seems not to have fully realized; that in taking
this extra judicial step to conciliate one party, it drove
away another and a more important one, for the
South became solid on the subject of dividing legally,
if possible, but of dividing at all cost.

The Bishops made out two plans. In the published
one they gave him-no work. Bishop Soule protested
against this, and Bishop Morris in a private letter to
Bishop Andrew explains why it was done:

** CINCINNATI, February 19, 1845.
“‘REv. BISHOP ANDREW:

“‘ Dear Brother—I send this letter, presuming that
you will soon have returned from the Alabama Con-
ference. As only one day intervened between the Gen-
eral Conference and the New York Annual Conference,
our consultation was necessarily a hurried one. Many
things were referred to us besides making our plan of
Episcopal visitation, so that if we made some mistakes
it would be no subject of marvel. It was suggested
to address a joint note to you inquiring what would
be your wish as to taking part of the work, in view of
the final action of the General Conference in your case,
but as some of the Bishops thought it might be con-
strued into an improper interference with your free-
dom of choice, that was dispensed with ; but it was
Fames Osgood Andrew, 363

admitted that any one who chose to make an indi-
vidual communication, might do so. .As to our private
correspondence, I ‘believe you were one letter behind,
and you may remember that when I requested a letter
from you in our parting interview at Brother Lane’s you
said I should hear from you. Under these circumstances
I made myself easy, waiting for a letter from you,
never supposing that I was expected to write first,
much less that I was causing you any concern by the
omission; and, moreover, I supposed Bishop Soule,
whose work embraced your residence, would give you
all needful information. But your published letter
and speeches left me to infer that our omission had
grieved you, and I was very sorry on my part, and
assure you that my failure was owing to the circum-
stances above stated, and not to any interruption of
the personal friendship which I have ever felt and still
feel for you, and trust you will accept this explanation
of my long-continued silence.

“Many curious speculations are afloat as to what
the Bishops did in your case when arranging their plan
of visitation, and wy they did it. Some who appear to
know but little of the subject assume to explain it for
us, while others still inquire, ‘Will the Bishops ex-
plain?’ Perhaps they will at the proper time, but I
hope not so as to anticipate Bishop Soule’s forthcom-
ing defence. But as this letter is not for the public
eye, but for your own, I would say a few words ex-
planatory of my own views and acts, not holding any
of my colleagues accountable for them. If any breth-
ren have inferred from the published ‘ Plan of Epis-
copal Visitation,’ or any thing else, that I was opposed
to your continuing in the oversight South, they are
364 The Life and Letters of

mistaken ; and if any have inferred that I was of opin-
ion that the action of the General Conference in your
case was according to our disciplinary provision, they
are mistaken ; or if any have inferred, as it appears
some have, from the unpublished ‘ Plan,’ or anything
else, that I did not and would not, under all circum-
stances, respect the authority and action of the Gen-
eral Conference, whether I accorded with it in opinion
or not, they are mistaken ; but most of all are they
mistaken who suppose I would ‘ add insult to injury,’
which was charged upon me in regard to our published
‘Plan,’ by mass-meetings, and printed in our official
church papers. No, verily. While I respected the
authority and action of the General Conference, I
acted in perfect good faith and feeling to yourself and
the South, aiming to meet their wants and wishes, as
well as the good of the whole Church, so far as I un-
derstood we were authorized to take any action in
the premises. Whether you would take part of the
oversight or not was a question which the final action
of the General Conference devolved on yourself. to de-
cide. Of course we could not decide for you, your
friends could not decide for you, and as you were ab-
sent and unapprised of the final state of the case, you
could not then and there decide for yourself; nor
could we defer publishing our plan as the time of the
summer Conference was upon us., Hence, the pub-
lished ‘ Plan’ and the ‘ Reserved Plan,’ in anticipa-
tion of your decision to take work. Now, if by this
course of procedure, the only one we thought ourselves
at liberty to pursue, we have rendered ourselves un-
acceptable to the South, we regret but cannot help it.
So far as I have gone, however, I found no difficulty
Fames Osgood Andrew. 365

in my way. On my last year’s tour I presided at
three Conferences North and three South, as we now
say, and my intercourse with the brethren was alike
pleasant on both sides of the line. How far South
that state of things extends with me, or how long it
may continue, I cannot say, nor am I anxious to
know. Ifthe present ‘ Plan’ should continue, it will
be my lot to go southwest next fall and winter, and
in that event I expect to go, provided also that the
way may be left open for me to do so consistently
with my official relation there and my official respon-
sibility to the authority that appointed me. Otherwise
I should feel absolved from the obligation to attend
the Conference in that direction, and will cheerfully
submit. Here, for the present, my mind settles.
Many still entertain hope of the unity of the Church ;
with me it is only ‘hope against hope.’ Though I
would not limit the high and holy one of Israel, I think
amicable separation far preferable to revolution, or
nominal union with perpetual strife, but as the plan of
amicable separation is rejected by so many Confer-
ences, I see no prospect of realizing that, and I fear
division in a worse form. May the Lord pity us
all.

‘IT have drawn from the Conference for you the
past year, $59.82, which shall be forthcoming at the
Louisville Convention in cash or a draft as good.
Please write me soon; direct to Cincinnati, O., which
I still call home, though I stay here but little. Mrs.
Morris is at present somewhat afflicted, but I trust not
dangerously. My own health is good. Bishop Ham-
line is sick. Bishop Janes passed through this place
recently on his way home from Texas, in good health.
366 The Life and Letters of

“May grace, mercy, and peace attend you and all
yours.
“To am, as ever, yours with much esteem and
affection,
“THOMAS A. Morris.”

After he reached Oxford, he received the following
from New York:

“Rev. W. Winans, from the Committee to whom
was referred the subject of preparing resolutions ex-
pressive of the sympathy of this meeting with Bishop
Andrew, reported as follows:

“We, the delegates representing the Conferences in
slave-holding States, and delegates from other Con-
ferences assembled with us in the lecture-room of
Greene Street Church, on the first day of June, 1844,
have unanimously

‘* Resolved, That we have felt the liveliest sympathy
with the Rev. James O. Andrew, one of the Bishops
of the Methodist Episcopal Church, because of the
extra-judicial proceedings had against him in the Gen-
eral Conference, during the last ten days, on account
of his connection with slavery—a connection perfectly
provided for in the Discipline of the Methodist Epis-
copal Church, and into which his entrance is charg-
able with no fault or indiscretion. These proceedings,
which have this day resulted in the virtual suspen-
sion of his official functions as Superintendent of the
Church, have been carried on without the exhibition
of any charge of offence, either against the Discipline
or against the Divine law, but have, notwithstanding,
been persevered in upon the sole ground of expediency,
James Osgood Andrew. 307

and regulated by no rule but the lawless prudence and
unrestrained discretion of a prejudiced and avowedly
interested majority. Thus have his feelings been the
mark of reiterated attack in Conference for more than
ten days, without the common privilege of knowing
what point in his conduct he was to guard against the
coming assault, and without knowing what defence
his assailants would regard as sacred. Add to the
annoyance so gratuitously and abundantly furnished
him by the extra-judicial proceedings of the Confer-
ence, he has had to endure the officious and indelicate
misrepresentation of his position and his conduct by
the offical journal of the Church in this city ; whereby
the proceedings against him in the Conference have
been forestalled and prejudged, and public opinion
misled and vitiated. We deeply sympathize with him
in these unmerited sufferings, and approve of the deter-
mination he has this day avowed of leaving the scene
of so many outrages upon his sensibilities, and seeking
in the home whose domestic rights have been made
the occasion of his persecution some relief to his feel-
ings. With the amiable partner of Bishop Andrew,
incidentally involved in theSe gratuitously inflicted
sufferings, we also keenly sympathize, and humbly
pray that He who was sore wounded in the house of
His friends may minister to both her and her ex-
cellent husband those consolations which will sustain
them under these severe trials.

‘To the moral and official conduct of Bishop An-
drew we accord the highest degree of approbation,
and pronounce, without fear of contradiction, that
could his persecutors drive him from the Episcopal
office, they would rob that office of one of its brightest
368 The Life and Letters of

ornaments and of one of its worthiest occupants.
With him, in these proceedings, we have had a com-
mon interest, and success in his suspension from office,
on account of the matter alleged against him, would,
in effect, be the disfranchisement of every minister
among us connected with slavery. Hence, with him
must fall, if he fall, the whole Southern Church. Nay,
with him must fall the Discipline of the Methodist
Episcopal Church. His cause, then, is the cause of
the South, of the Church, of the Discipline. Let him
be comforted, therefore, by the recollection that his
zimmolation has been attempted upon the altar of the
Church's unity, that his fall is the result of lawless
might, without even a decent pretext on the score of
right, of Discipline, or of Gospel precept.

“And then, on motion, the report was adopted,
and, signed by the Chairman and Secretary, was or-
dered to be forwarded to Bishop Andrew.”

The above is a true copy from the minutes of the
proceedings of the meeting held by the delegates
from the Conferences in the slave-holding States and
others, in the lecture-room of Greene Street Church,
on Tuesday, June 1, 1844.

New York, June 6, 1844.

L. PIERCE, Chairman.

LeRoy M. LEE, See.

The South, almost to a man, condemned the action
of the Conference in this case, and from every quarter
Bishop Andrew received letters of sympathy. The
treatment he had received became the theme of edi-
tors, politicians, ministers of all denominations, and
Fames Osgood Andrew. 369

of gentlemen and ladies in private circles. Meet-
ings were held and resolutions passed. The North
generally approved the action of the Conference, and
generally pursued the opposite course. His name
was covered with vituperation and abuse. But amid
it all he was calm and serene. Conscious of the inno-
cence of his heart and the rectitude of his conduct,
he was neither elevated by the extravagant praise of
friends nor depressed by the extravagant abuse of
enemies ; and never did he, by word or act, do aught
to intensify the prevailing bitterness. On the con-
trary, he had words of charity and extenuation for his
foes, and ever urged his friends not to return railing
for railing, but rather to seek peace and pursue it.

From the North, it is just to say that he received
letters from many brethren, full of expressions of per-
sonal confidence and esteem. The two following are
specimens :

‘© CINCINNATI, October 3, 1844.
‘*DEAR BISHOP ANDREW :

“‘Vours of the 5th ult. has been received. I was
pleased that I had it in my power to render you any
service, and, by skillful management, I got the ex-
penses actually paid out in attending to the business
reduced to two dollars.

‘‘T am sorry to learn that your health is not very
good; hope you will soon be restored to your usual
condition of health. I accept, with grateful emotions,
your condolence in view of my severe bereavement,
and have no doubt I shall have your continued sym-
pathy and prayers.

‘I am glad to learn that you think it possible you

16*
370 The Life and Letters of

may visit Cincinnati in the course of the next six
months. I am stationed at Wesley Chapel. We
would be glad to see you and have you preach for us.
You do the people here injustice when you suppose
they would be unwilling to receive you as a preacher,
and in the exercise of all the functions of the work
and office of an elder in the church. The only objec-
tion that I hear of is against your exercising the office
of an itinerant general superintendent in the church.
There would be objections to your presiding in a
conference and ordaining preachers in Cincinnati while
you are considered to be the owner of slaves, but in
every other respect your ministrations would be very
acceptable among us, just as Dr. Pearce, Dr. Capers,
Dr. Winans would be, whom you know are very
popular among the people of Cincinnati.

‘The Ohio Conference refused to concur in the
resolution of the General Conference altering the ve-
strictive rule, 132 to 1. They are wholly against the
division of the church, and determined to have no par-
ticipation in it, but in case the South should establish
an organization of their own, the Ohio Conference will
be as ready as any other conference to give them
their share of the property. I have a very great ab-
horrence to a division of the church, and I think all
good people ought to unite their influence and en-
deavor to prevent it. The most competent judges
say that if the separation takes place the title of all the
church property in the South will be wztzated. It is
now deeded ‘for the use of the members of the
Methodist Episcopal Church in the United States of
America.’ The Southern organization could not re-
tain this title. Of course the original grantors or their
Yames Osgood Andrew. 371

heirs-at-law might successfully sue for the property,
it having been diverted from its original design as set
forth in the deeds which were executed at the time of
sale or donation. I have many other reasons why I
am opposed to this division, but have not time to
name them now, and they are such as would operate
on and affect my mind equally if I resided at the
South, and I believe I wotld be more strongly opposed
to a division if I lived there than I nowam. I will
mention only one more. I most firmly believe if this
division takes place civil commotions will immediately
follow, for there are certainly more reasons for the sep-
aration of the States than for the division of the Church,
and it might soon be pleaded as a matter obviously
necessary and indispensable to the South. I am
anxious that the convention to be held at Louisville
next May might be put cff ove year, so as to give
the conferences in the non-slave-holding States an
opportunity to hold another session and appoint one
delegate from each to attend that convention and ad-
just with the Southern brethren some plan of com-
promise, to be submitted to a general conference, to
be called in May, 1846. What think you? I am
very anxious the effort should be made. I must now
stop. Rember me to Sister Andrew.
“ Yours in love,
“J. F. WRIGHT.

“P. S. It is perfectly idle, if not foolish, to talk of
a friendly separation in a Christian spirit. They might
as well talk of men fighting in a good humor. If the
division takes place perpetual war will be declared
and be carried on through alltime. It is said they
quarrel now! So they do; but what they do now isa
372 The Life and Letters of

small matter, and a mere trifle compared with what
they would do if they were severed. This friendly
division reminds me of the Irishman who wished to
save his load which was in his gun. He told his wife
to pull the trigger easy while he held his hat to catch
the bullet. She pulled easy, but the gun went off hard,
and the old fellow lost his hat. The plan I propose
would enable the zustructed delegates from the non-
slave-holding conferences and the convention to make
an effort to reconcile the matter and agree upon some
plan of compromise. It would afford me much fleas-
ure, and, I believe, thousands more much satisfaction
to have the trial made, and even if it failed we would
be no worse off than we are now, and would appear
better.”

‘* MIDDLETOWN, September 27, 1844.
‘REVEREND AND VERY DEAR SIR:

‘« There are reasons of great weight in my own mind
why I should address you. They are entirely personal
and private. No one is acquainted with my design, and
I have no wish that any eye besides your own should
look upon what I write. I can but fear that I shall
be regarded as taking an unwarrantable liberty and
yet I know’ your habitual disposition toward those
who have offended you too well not to hope that you
will pardon this intrusion, if such you shall be con-
strained to regard it. The painful events of the last
few months could hardly fail to change the feelings
and opinions you were wont to entertain toward me.
I regret this very deeply, but I do not complain of it.
Undoubtedly I feel the sacrifice I have been called to
make of nearly all of my early and most valued friend-
Fames Osgood Andrew. 373

ships and Christian attachments. My sensibilities are
but too acute—I suffer but too keenly, but I am try-
ing to bear what I cannot prevent or avoid, in such a
way as not to add the reproaches of my own con-
science to the rebukes of those who through life have
been my most valued friends. Many injurious insin-
“uations and erroneous statements I shall bear in si-
lence. In the present state of public sentiment it
would be of little use to correct a misapprehension ora
misstatement through the press. I mean to let all of
these things, pass, trusting to the future and to the
charity of religion. I have thought, however, that
with regard to some individuals whose confidence I
have enjoyed, and toward whom I have long cherished
the most ardent, boundless affection, I may take the
liberty of saying something in my own cause. I act
on this ground in writing to you.

‘‘T cannot doubt that in the transactions and scenes
of the General Conference many things may have oc-
curred to injure your feelings toward me. I could
but infer from your altered manner that you had heard,
or supposed that I had said or done things justly
offensive to you. The atmosphere was rife with all
sorts of reports. Men’s minds were excited and in a
state to draw strong inferences and receive false im-
pressions. I did not feel at liberty to speak to you
upon the subject of my fears in the matter. I do not
know now that you ever heard or suspected anything
at variance with my professions of respect and affec-
tion toward you. I wish, however, to declare to you
in this private and solemn manner, what I expect to
meet in the last judgment. I am not conscious of ever
having a feeling or an opinion in regard to you incom-
374 The Life and Letters of

patible with the highest respect or most ardent affec-
tion. I do not think that I uttered a word in public
or private inconsistent with the letter and spirit of this
declaration. I felt and declared the fullest confidence
in the purity of your intentions, both in what preceded
the General Conference and in the painful part you

were called to take in its affairs. God is my witness” © ©

that I most ardently desired and faithfully labored to
avoid the issue to which we were led. God is my
witness that I never desired or plotted your degrada-
tion or mortification. I think I could freely have laid
down my life to prevent or heal our difficulties. If
there was a meeting of the delegates to plot your. in-
jury, I did not know it and do not know it. The part
I took in the procedure of the Conference was not
based on any belief of your guilt or contamination, or
any disrespect to Southern rights. I stated my
grounds of action in your hearing before the Confer-
ence. They certainly appeared to you and to many
others insufficient. I am not now to vindicate them.
I thought I did right. I followed, at a great sacrifice
of personal feeling, my sense of duty. I know] shall
fail of satisfying you that I acted wisely if I should try
to doso. I am not concerned to do that. J would
gladly persuade you that my motives were upright.
Will you, my dear venerated brother and friend of my
youth, pardon the liberty I take in thus addressing
you? I mean nothing but the highest respect. I do
not ask to enjoy your confidence as formerly. I shall
not think hard of it if you decline answering this let-
ter. You may not think it prudent to communicate
with me on this topic. You might not, even if I en-
joyed far more of your confidence. I do not ask for
James Osgood Andrew. 375

an answer, though I would receive it gladly ; but I
earnestly beg that you will credit what I have written
above. Jentreat you not to believe that I have con-
sciously acted the part of anenemy. Believe, if you
ean, that I have maintained toward you the heart ofa
brother. We shall stand before God together; we
love a common Saviour. I am sure the integrity of
our hearts will appear hereafter. It is no easy thing
for me to consent that you should hold me for a hypo-
crite or a traitor, Iam neither. With all my imper-
fections Iam neither. I dare not attempt to express
the strength of the undiminished love and confidence
I feel toward you. I could not bring myself to write
as I do but for the fact that I have no conceivable
motive for doing so but the Christian motive I have
alleged. I could not write so for the public eye, but
in all humility, and it may be of no small sacrifice of
self-respect, I think it right that I should state my
feelings to you. You have a Christian interest in not
thinking worse of me than you ought to think. I wish
you to have this testimony in your possession—this
declaration. Let it be between us. Let God look
upon it and judge me as I am sincere. You will not
be unwilling that I should invoke his blessings upon
one whom I so many years regarded my best friend,
I pray—I have often prayed that He will support you
in all your trials. After all I have said above it would
be superfluous to add more than my signature.
‘‘ STEPHEN OLIN.

‘‘REv. BISHOP ANDREW.”

We do not know that Bishop Andrew’s feelings
were alienated from Dr. Olin on account of his course
376 The Life and Letters of

in the Conferenee, but we do know that after this
letter the old love came back, and to Olin’s death
their intercourse continued ; and we know that on his
‘dying bed he made affectionate mention of Dr. Olin’s
name. He believed he was the greatest of American
preachers, and loved him with an undying love.

One man from the North, who was a tower of
strength, stood by him shoulder to shoulder in all
this conflict. That man was Joshua Soule, the senior
bishop of the church. Born and brought up in Maine,
living in Ohio, never a slaveholder, nor a pro-slavery
man, with every interest to bind him to the section in
which he lived, he yet came to the South because he
believed the South was right—a step that brought
upon him great odium among his Northern friends.

The summer was spent with his family at home. He
was kept busy answering letters and preaching in the
neighborhood of home. In the fall, being invited by
Bishop Soule to attend his Conferences, he joined him
in September at Frankfort, Ky., the seat of the Ken-
tucky Conference. From this point Bishop Soule went
west, while Bishop Andrew went east. Having no
separate work, he simply assisted Bishop Soule in his
district. He first visited Nashville; then, after re-
turning home, went into Virginia, visiting Lynchburg,
Richmond, Petersburg, and other places. At Peters-
burg he dedicated a new church. The following ex-
tract from a letter written to his wife from Richmond
will show what were the workings of his heart and
mind in those days of excitement and trouble. After
speaking of heaven, he says: ‘‘ Is not the thought, the
hope of this enough to rouse and animate our souls to
constantly increasing efforts after holiness of heart?
Fames Osgood Andrew. 377

Oh! I know we are poor and vile and worthless. We
nothing are, and nothing have. But oh! blessed and
encouraging thought, Christ Jesus is our all in all.
_ He hath loved us even when we were dead in tres-
passes and sins. Even then, when we had not even a
gracious desire to recommend us to his notice, he
pitied us, watched over us and cared for us, and called
us; and shall he not especially bless us when we have
heard and are trying to obey his call—when our hearts
cry out for the living God and when he knows we are
sincerely desirous to please him? Yes, God will hear
and bless us both. Oh that he may thoroughly sanc-
tify us by his Holy Spirit.”

He returned home from Virginia, and joining Bishop
Soule at the South Carolina Conference, took him to
his home in Oxford, and thence, in his own carriage,
went with him to the Georgia Conference at Eatonton
in January, 1845.

The question of division was virtually settled before
the General Conference adjourned, for it was referred
by that body to the Southern Annual Conferences,
which with great unanimity at their next sessions ap-
pointed delegates to meet in Convention at Louisville
the following May. The South did not really desire
division, but after. the course of the General Confer-
ence it was evident that a separate organization was
the only way of preserving Methodism in this section—
the only hope of holding the master to that church
and of carrying the gospel to the slave. The intoler-
ance of Northern extremists had made the entire South
exceedingly sensitive, and forced this alternative upon
Southern Methodists. It was division or death.

However much Bishop Andrew may have regretted.
378 The Life and Letters of

this necessity—and he did most profoundly regret it—
still he gave the Louisville Convention his fullest en-
dorsement. In April he proceeded to Louisville.
The Convention met at the time appointed. All the
Annual Conferences South were represented by their
delegates. Bishops Andrew, Soule, and Morris were
all there. The decision of the Convention to form a
second General Conference was almost unanimous;
and a call was made to elect delegates to such a Con-
ference, appointed to meet in Petersburg, Va., the
next May. And thus, as a new Annual Conference
for any reason whatsoever is set up and endowed with
the peculiar autonomy of such a body, so was the
Methodist Episcopal Church South organized with-
out revolution or schism or secession, under consent
given by the General Conference of the Methodist
Episcopal Church and by authority of the Annual
Conferences represented in the Convention at Louis-
ville. No doctrine was changed, no polity altered,
no usages, rites, or customs modified. The same
laborers did the same work in the same fields, just as
they had been trained to do. It was hoped that this
measure would not only perpetuate Methodism in the
South, but that it would also be the end of strife be-
tween the sections of the church. The Bishops of the
Methodist Episcopal Church, after this Convention,
resolved to withdraw from the South and leave that
whole territory to the Southern Church. Bishop Hed-
ding wrote as follows:
“* NEw York, July 4, 1845.

‘REV. BISHOP ANDREW:

“« Dear Brothey—Though you and I have differed
in opinion in some things, I believe there has been no
Fames Osgood Andrew. 379

personal contention between us, and I trust nothing
but good feeling between us. So I think I can write
a private note to you without having it published, as
I wish as far as possible to avoid getting into the
strife. A meeting has been invited of the bishops ad-
hering to the Methodist Episcopal Church. Bishops
Waugh, Morris, Janes, and myself attended. We
judged that, in consideration of the Acts of the Louis-
ville Convention, we could not be justified in presid-
ing in the Annual Conferences represented in said
convention. Our resolution on that point will soon
be published. Bishop Morris and Janes desired
going to the Conferences assigned to them in the
South. And as I suppose the care of those Confer-
ences will now devolve on you and Bishop Soule, I
thought it proper you should have this early notice.
As part of the year for Episcopal claims on the Con-
ferences for annual allowances and traveling expenses
is past, we agree to collect for you and Bishop Soule
as we have done to the end of the year, that is to the
close of the New Jersey Conference. I suppose you
and Bishop Soule will do the same for us in the South
for this year. I suppose also the widow Roberts’
claims on each Conference will be paid by the South-
ern Conferences for this year. After that I suppose
the Methodist Episcopal Church will provide for Mrs.
Roberts, and each church will provide for its own
bishop. I have been grieved a thousand times on ac-
count of the division of the church, but now as it is
divided, I wish to do all in my power to promote
peace and good feeling between the two bodies.
“« Affectionately yours,
. “ ELIJAH HEDDING,
380 The Life and Letters of

“©P, S—We have given Bishop Soule information
on the above subject in a letter dated this day. We
met 2d inst., parted last night, and I am left alone just
about to fly to the Black River Conference.”

The desire of the venerable New Englander for
peace was heartily responded to by Bishop An-
drew. The idea that an organic union of churches is
necessary to peace between them, that men of the
same faith and working in the same ways are com-
pelled to erect altar against altar because their Gen-
eral Assemblies are different, had not entered into the
heads of Methodist preachers. If Canada Methodists
and Wesleyan Methodists and American Methodists
could work harmoniously, why could not Northern
and Southern Methodists do so? It was only after’
all a division of labor. Annual Conferences, Districts,
and Quarterly Conferences all move in their own

spheres. Why could not General Conferences do the
same? The division of Christ’s Church is merely a
division for greater efficiency, and the union of great
or small bodies is a union for greater strength. There
was no expectation on the part of the South of cross-
ing the line made by the General Conference, nor did
the General Conference think the North would feel
bound to go across it either. The Ohio Conference
of the Methodist Episcopal Church had never crossed
the line separating its territory from that of the Ken-
tucky Conference of the Methodist Episcopal Church,
then why should she cross that line when the suffix
South was added to the Kentucky Conference? This
was a natural and reasonable expectation, based upon
the acts of the General Conference, and upon the uni-
versal usage of the churches. Alas! that it was not
Fames Osgood Andrew. 381

realized. Perhaps, however, it was too much to ex-
pect. A war of pamphlets set up, in which such
giants as Bascom, and Peck, and Bond, and Elliot
alone could fight.

Bishop Andrew, now fully reinstated, had his hands
full of work, since between himself and Bishop Soule
the entire Southern work was divided. His fall tour
began at Frankfort, Ky., which place he reached after
a very wearisome trip by public conveyance. From
Oxford to Frankfort was not less than five hundred
miles over mountains and valleys.

The Conference then included all the State of Ken-
tucky. There were ten districts and nearly thirty-
eight thousand members, Bascom, whose fame had
filled the continent, and who was now the object of
very bitter attack because of his warm Southernism ;
Kavanaugh, Lee, Dandy, and Edward Stephenson
were among the older members. The Conference
was on the border and times were exciting, but the
Bishop presided to the satisfaction of all.

In October, after a wearisome stage journey through
Nashville and Chattanooga he reached the Holston
Conference at Athens, Tenn. This plucky little body
had continued to grow and had now thirty thousand
members scattered over parts of three States. Mc-
Annally was teaching in Knoxville. The clear-
headed Stringfield was agent for Holston College,
Sevier, Cunningham, James Atkins, and Timothy Sul-
lins among the Presiding Elders, and E. E. Wiley was
in Emory and Henry College, where he was to re-
main for near forty years. Among the names of the
unordained men were R. A. Young, W. G. E. Cun-
nyngham, and J. S. Burnett.
382 The Life and Letters of

The work being done here, the Bishop made his way
through the beautiful valley of Southwestern Virginia,
and across the entire Old Dominion to Norfolk, where
he met the Virginia Conference. At this Conference
Holland N. McTyiere was admitted on trial and sta-
tioned in Williamsburg.

From this Conference had come some of the ablest
speeches made in his defence in New York, and no-
where was he welcomed with warmer affection.
Leaving Portsmouth he came by water to Plymouth,
N. C., and thence to the quiet old town of Washing-
ton, where he met the North Carolina Conference.
The South Carolina Conference still reached to the
‘Cape Fear River, and the Virginia took the northeast
of the State, but there were twenty thousand white
members in the bounds of the North Carolina Confer-
ence alone. Allen S. Andrews, who watched at the
dying bed of the bishop twenty-six years after this,
was a young man stationed at Plymouth. Peter Daub,
whose tract on baptism made Marvin a Methodist,
was on a district. The Conference was a harmonious
one, and Charles B. Tippett, for a long time book-
agent of the Methodist Episcopal Church, left for New
Orleans specially commissioned by the Bishop to call
at Oxford, for as yet there was no alienation between
the divided Conferences, When the Conference was
over he went to Fayetteville, N. C., where the South
Carolina Conference was to meet. Here he was at
home. The sorrows he had passed through, and the
persecution, as they thought it, that he had met
with, made him doubly dear to these old yoke-fel-
lows. He reached Athens in time to preside over the
Georgia Conference in January, and after resting a
Fames Osgood Andrew. 383

little while went to Monticello, Fla., where he pre-
sided over the brave little bands of frontiersmen (not
thirty-five of them), who were endeavoring to occupy
all of East and Middle Florida, and nearly half of
Georgia.

It was in the spring of 1846 before he returned to
his Oxford home.

Let the reader now take his map and trace out this
circuit: From the middle of Georgia to Kentucky,
and thence eastward and southward till he reaches
Monticello, in Florida; and thence again northward
home, and remember that but few railways were in
operation then, that almost every mile of this exten-
sive journey was made by horse-carriage, and then
consider the wearing work of presiding at the Con-
ference, and he will have an idea of the privations
entailed upon Bishop Andrew in those days.

Rest was sweet, but was not for long. In April he
began his journey again, for the General Conference
of the Methodist Episcopal Church South, which was
to meet at Petersburg, Va., May Ist. Judge Long-
street had joined him in Charleston as one of the dele-
gates from the Georgia Conference. In company
with Thomas Stringfield, he was with the Bishop at
John Mood’s. As there was not a doubt that the
plan of separation would go at once into effect, the
brethren were discussing, says Dr. Mood, who as a
boy was present, what should be done with the share
of church funds which would come to the Southern
church. Bishop Andrew expressed his opinion that
the book concern of the Methodist Episcopal Church
should be employed to do all the work for the
South.
384 The Life and Letters of

‘“Why, James,” indignantly said Mrs. Mood,
‘“‘would you have anything to do with them after
they treated you so?” The Judge was of the same
opinion as the good Catherine, and expressed himself
right warmly.

The Bishop smiled, and said: ‘‘ Before Brother
Longstreet went to New York he thought all the
Northern Methodists were good, and now he does not
think there are any good ;”’ but he held to his opinion.
The alliance between the churches, he thought, should
be as close as possible.

The General Conference at Petersburg did but little
more than adjust itself to the changed condition of
affairs, elect an agent for its publishing interests, edi-
tors for a Review, and the Advocates and two bishops.
Robert Paine and William Capers were chosen
bishops. There were now nineteen Conferences,
327,284. white members, 124,811 colored members.
There were four bishops, three of them able to work.
His new colleagues, William Capers and Robert Paine,
were old and valued friends. With Dr. Capers his re-
lations had been of the closest kind from his boyhood.
Robert Paine had been with him in the General Con-
ference of 1832, and he had given him an appoint-
ment in the first conference over which he had pre-
sided. The beauty of his character, the strength of
his intellect, and the extent of his culture had all
drawn the Bishop to him. They were most intimate
friends to the very last. Few men ever held a higher
place in his confidence, or a warmer one in his heart,
and these feelings were fully reciprocated by his
younger colleague. His relation to William Capers
we have already seen.
Fames Osgood Andrew, 385

The whole South, with the exception of Maryland
and the valley of Virginia, then in the Baltimore Con-
ference, was under the jurisdiction of the new General
Conference. After the adjournment of the General
Conference, he returned to Oxford and rested till
September, when he went to Covington, Ky. Here
he presided over the Kentucky Conference, the
newly organized Louisville Conference at Hopkins-
ville, and then over the Tennessee, Memphis, Missis-
sippi, and Alabama Conferences. He reached home
in the winter of 1847, after being absent during nearly
the whole of 1846.

"a
386 The Life and Letters of

CHAPTER X.

METHODIST EPISCOPAL CHURCH SOUTH.
1847-1855.

First Book.—Episcopal Visitations.—Interest in Missions.—Mrs. An-
drew’s Sickness and Death.—Letters from Bishops Capers and Paine.

E now rested a little while from his very fatigu-

ing labors. Bishop Soule, still wise in counsel,

was infirm, and Capers and Paine were but just now
in the office, and looked to Andrew largely for ad-
vice and direction. At this time he was in his prime
asa bishop. He was a little over fifty years old, and
was in comparatively vigorous health. He had made
rapid and constant improvement since he had been a
bishop, and while in many respects he had not been
a student, for he had been cut off from his books
during most of the time, he had been compelled to
study men, and their adaptations to work, and in this
important science of appointing preachers he had be-
come proficient. Bishop Pierce, while admitting that
he ceased to preach with the imperial power which
marked him before his elevation to his office, says
that this did not arise from a failure of mental vigor
as much as from the fact that Bishop Andrew’s style
was magnificent. Grand conceptions, and rich, lux-
uriant verbiage characterized his preaching when he
Fames Osgood Andrew. 387

allowed himself full sweep, but when he became a
bishop, knowing how such a style would captivate
the half-educated young preachers, and that in an ef-
fort to secure it they would lose the simplicity which
should mark their ministry, he tried to adopt a sim-
plicity of expression for which he was unfitted by
nature, and in endeavoring to confine himself to the
commonplaces he cramped himself. I think it pos-
sible that the bishop preached with more power away
from Georgia and South Carolina than in these old
homes, since the verdict of those who heard him in
Texas and Virginia is that his preaching was at this
time eloquent and powerful. I doubt, however, whether
any man could have had his temperament and do his
work and still preach with the power possible under
other circumstances. The cares of the Church were
to him such a burden.

He presided in the Conference sessions with great
dignity and affability. His strong, common sense
brought him safely through. He never lost his tem-
per nor his self-possession. He presided at some
famous Church trials, where the utmost skill was de-
manded. At one, long after this date, which lasted
over three weeks, when the fiercest temper was
roused and the strongest men were arrayed against
each other, though saddened and heart-sick at the
sight, he so demeaned himself as to escape censure
from either side. His charges before the Conferences
were eloquent and wise, enlivened now and then with |
flashes of rich humor. He interjected pithy with sen-
sible remarks as the business proceeded, and, while he
kept the Conference well in hand, he was no ecclesi-
astical martinet stickling for every point of arbitrary
388 The Life and Letters of

law. Strong common sense had always been one of
the features of his character, and it marked him in all
his administration. He was remarkably able in the
stationing room. He was thoughtful, considerate,
careful. He bore every preacher and every charge
on his heart. He did what he felt he ought to do, but
no man suffered more in doing it if he had cause for
believing, as he often had, that it gave pain.

Bishop Pierce says he has known him to toss all
night upon his bed when he was to make appoint-
ments. His Conference tours always wore him down
and made him sick. He loved home with the deepest
affection, but he was almost a stranger there. After
the completion of the tour of 1846 he spent a longer
time than usual at home, and in the spring sent his
first little book to the press, which contained 178
pages, on the subject of ‘‘ Family Government.”

He was not idle during the summer. There was a
great revival of religion in Oxford among the college
students. The Bishop preached often and with much
power, and the family of college boys who boarded
with him participated largely in the blessings of the
meeting. At this revival some of the most distin-
guished members of the Georgia and Alabama Con-
ferences at the present time were converted.

During the summer, in connection with Dr. Means
and Judge Longstreet, he held the first protracted
meeting ever held in Atlanta. My father had re-
moved to the young city, and he secured a large
vacant warehouse, which he converted into a taber-
nacle, and in it the meeting was held. It was a good
meeting, and fairly introduced Methodism into the
city, in which it has become a power.
Sfames Osgood Andrew, 389

His home was now an exceedingly happy one. His
age was fifty-three, his wife seven years younger.
Jimmy was an interesting little fellow of six’ years,
Occie a bright girl of ten, and Mary in college in
Macon. Thomas and Hennie lived near him, only
two milesaway. In the family were the yet unmar-
ried daughters of Mrs. Greenwood and Aleck Wynn,
his foster son. The house was large, beautifully sit-
uated, adjoining the village church. The delightful
companions of other years, with leisure enough in the
midst of their college duties to form most agreeable
circles, were near by. The house, in term time, was
filled with boarders—young men going to college—
with whom the Bishop was in full sympathy, and
Christian cheerfulness threw its light over all. After
his return from his hard journeys he felt himself enti-
tled to repose, and so he worked at will. He read at
random, newspapers, reviews, and new books; wrote
as the spirit moved him; sauntered up to Judge
Longstreet’s after tea with his good Leonora, and
while she and Eliza, old-time friends, chatted over
Greensborough and the Greene County people, the
Bishop and the Judge made things lively. Sharp the
hits, and many of them. Sometimes he went down
to the college chapel to see the boys, and regularly to
the village prayer-meeting. He preached somewhere
every Sunday, frequently in Oxford. He had a little
farm, and deluded himself with the idea that he was a
_. farmer. It served to amuse him, and did keep him a
little poorer than he would have been, for he knew
nothing about the government of servants except
theoretically. When Judge Longstreet heard he was
going to write a chapter on the government of ser-
390 Lhe Life and Letters of

vants, he said in a letter: ‘(I laid down my paper
and fairly roared. Bishop Andrew writing on the
government of servants!” His servants governed
him. Slave-holding was a costly business‘to him.

In the fall he began his journey, a long and weary
one over the mountains. He first went by stage to
the meeting of the Board of Missions in Louisville,
and thence back by Nashville and across the moun-
tains to Knoxville, Tenn., and then northeast to
the ancient town of Jonesboro, where the Holston
Conference held its session. He delivered on Satur-
day night the missionary address, which he says was
dull and heavy, and preached on Sunday morning.
On Wednesday the Conference adjourned, and he be-
gan his journey in private conveyance, in company
with some of the preachers, through the beautiful val-
ley of Southwestern Virginia to Charlottesville. It
was a long journey, but if an unceasing beauty of
scenery and a boundless hospitality could compensate
for the two hundred miles of travel, he had ample re-
turn. He reached Charlottesville on the 14th, and
says in a letter to his wife:

“My health is very good, praise the Lord, and I
trust that I enjoy in a good measure the peace of God. I
felt a good deal of warmth and enlargement of soul to-
day while I was trying to preach to an immense
crowd. The people were profoundly attentive, and
seemed, many of them, to feel a good deal. God

grant that the fruit may be gathered after many days. _ _

Last night was the anniversary of the Missionary
Society, and your husband was the principal speaker.
The night was very dark and rainy, yet the house
was crowded, I had considerable liberty in speaking,
Fames Osgood Andrew. 391

and the collection on the occasion amounted to $700,

The Conference, so far, is getting on pleas-
antly, and I trust profitably. We have crowded
houses and a good deal of seriousness. Oh, that the
blessed work may deepen and widen till the hallowed
flame shall spread far and wide!”

As soon as his work was done in Charlottesville he
went southward, spending the Sabbath in Lynchburg,
and thence going through Danville to Greensborough,
N. C., where he met the North Carolina Conference.
At the close of its session he hastened home to Oxford.

With the organization of the Methodist Episcopal
Church South in 1846, the missionary work took a
high place. The immense number of slaves on the
plantations were the first care, and then the Indians
in the Territories. Bishop Andrew was always a
missionary, both in heart and in labor. He could not
have been moreso if he had gone to Africa, as he had
thought of doing in 1832. In the plan for negro
evangelization by the aid of missionaries he, with Wil-
liam Capers, had been a chief deviser, and now that
China was opened to Europeans, his ardent soul leaped
at once to the task of entering that distant empire.
Charles Taylor and Benjamin Jenkins were selected as
missionaries, and Taylor was sent to Philadelphia to
prepare himself for his work as medical missionary.
As soon as California was fairly settled he was among
the first to urge the occupancy of that field, and he
looked toward Liberia with longing eyes. The world
for Christ was the watchword of his life. During the
time he was at home in 1848 he was very much en-
gaged in work for these missions. He remained in
Oxford till August.
392 The Life and Letters of

There is no easy work ina bishop’s life. The short
respite from traveling which he had in the early part
of 1848 was only preparatory to a long and weary
journey to the far West, which he began in August.
The railway from Oxford to Dalton was now com-
pleted, and, leaving home on Saturday, he reached
Dalton on the evening of the same day. Here on
Sunday he preached, and from hence by private con-
veyance he went to Chattanooga, thence over the
mountains by stage to Nashville. Here he attended
a camp-meeting and heard Uncle Golman Green
preach a sermon which moved him to tears, after
which he preached. The next day, with Drs. Green
and McFerrin, he took coach for Louisville, met his
colleagues, mapped out the work, and took steamer
for St. Louis. But the Ohio River in September is a
very uncertain stream, and the boat in which he was
a passenger ran aground on Flint Island. He gives
in the ‘‘ Miscellanies” a graphic description of his
stay for three days on the island and of his after
troubles till he reached his destination.

He now presided at the Missouri Conference, which
met in the city of St. Louis. It included the whole
of Southern and Southwestern Missouri, had nearly
thirteen thousand members, and embraced six dis-
tricts. The brave Berryman, who had stood by the
Bishop and the Discipline in 1844; J. H. Headlee,
who during the War of Secession was killed for his.
Southern attachment; Francis A. Morris, a son of
the bishop ; Thomas H. Capers, transferred from Ala-
bama; Jos. Boyle and Jonathan Stamper, were among
the prominent figures of this hard-working, self-deny-
ing Conference.
%
Fames Osgood Andrew, 393

From St. Louis the journey began to Weston, Mo.,
three hundred miles away. His traveling companion
was again his foster-son, Alexander M. Wynn.  Pur-
chasing a buggy and a pair of grays, the travelers be-
gan their long journey. A passage in his journal of
travel, as he passed through the town in which the
State University was located, is a pertinent expres-
sion of his views on the still vital subject as to
whether States have a right to discriminate against
Christianity under pretence of neutrality; whether
neology is not as positive a thing as theology, and to
exclude the Bible as much persecution as to force it
upon the people. What these views were no one
need ask. z

The Missouri Conference was then the smaller of
the two Conferences as far as membership was con-
cerned, but was equal to the St. Louis in territory.
Andrew Monroe, the old Marylander, led the hosts,
and W. G. Caples, W. M. Rush, and Enoch M. Mar-
vin were among the young men of the Conference.
There were but fifty of them, and half of Missouri
was theirs to cultivate. The brave Bishop gave them
words of hearty cheer, made his appointments, and
turned his face toward the wigwam of the Indian.
As the country through which he passed was so in-
teresting, and his observations were so careful and
his comments so wise, I would be glad to transfer to
these pages, from the volume of ‘‘ Miscellanies,” his
sketch as a whole, but have not space. The Dela-
ware Mission was only twenty-five miles away, and
passing Fort Leavenworth (now in Kansas), they
reached the Mission about dark. Here he made his
first effort to preach through an interpreter—an In-

17*
*

394 The Life and Letters of

dian, whose wife having been converted had brought
him from paganism and drunkenness.

The travelers now left the Delaware country and en-
tered the land of the Shawnees. The United States
Government had placed a manual labor school for this
tribe under the control of the Church—and it had here
a Mission, at which the Bishop rested. Frémont’s party
of explorers were on their way West, and Brother John-
son, the Superintendent, and the Bishop rode out to
see them. They could not catch up with them, and he
says in the ‘‘ Miscellanies”’: ‘‘ Just as we were recon-
ciling ourselves to our disappointment, we espied on
the prairie, at a distance of half a mile, a body of men
and dogs in full chase. ‘A wolf chase,’ said my
friend; ‘let us join them.’ And immediately he was
in full gallop, and what could I do but follow him ?
My friend swept over the prairie as though he was ac-
customed to it, but I could not divest myself of a cer-
tain sense of uneasiness as to the fate of my neck
among the holes and salamander hills which abound,
so I slackened my pace. I could not help feeling that
there was something ludicrous in our appearance.
We were neither of us small men—Brother Johnson
weighs about two hundred and thirty pounds and
his companion something short of two hundred—
neither of us in very fine plight for playing the active,
and perhaps some of your grave readers may question
whether it was quite canonical for a bishop and a
priest to engage so heartily in the amusement of hunt-
ing. We were not in at the death, but we were on
the spot time enough to see the object of our pursuit.”

He went on southward, visiting the Missions in
turn. He had a tender sympathy for the poor Indian,
Fames Osgood Andrew. 395

but no respect for him in his native state. He found
the same villanous outrages by Indian agents and trad-
ers which have existed and will exist, we fear, to the
end. Christianity had, however, done much for the
Indians, if not for the agents, and was bound to do
much more he was assured. The ‘‘ Miscellanies” give
very fully the account we have condensed, and it is
an interesting contribution to our missionary history.
He presided over the Conference and proceeded east-
ward to Arkansas.

He entered the mountain section of the State, and
rested for a while in the home of John Harrell, the
grand old pioneer whose life was spent among the
poor children of the forest. Here he preached, and by
way of Van Buren made the journey to Clarkesville,
where he found a congregation waiting to hear a ser-
mon from the weary Bishop. He had five years be-
fore entered this same village from the east, and he
now came from the west. Pressing on he reached
Pine Bluff, where he presided over the Arkansas Con-
ference. He had but little time to abide, and turned
his face toward the Southwest and Texas. The
Bishop was so delighted with a part of Southwest-
ern Arkansas that he almost decided to remove
thither, but finding that his loved ones could not go
with him he abandoned the idea. Through a snow-
storm he came to Princeton, Arkansas, and here he
lodged in the same room with a man who had once
produced a sensation rare even in America—John
Newland Maffitt. He does not say why Maffitt was
here, nor anything of the interview. From Princeton
he went to Camden, where he preached on the Sabbath,
then on through the rain to Louisiana. The country
396, The Life and Letters. of

was uninhabited, the way rough, and the carriage
broke down ; but in the evening good. Brother Laney
received them and gave them shelter. Thence to
Louisville, where he preached a sermon in a tavern,
and thence the seventy-five miles to Shreveport, La.
The weather was. bad and the roads were wretched,
but they made the journey safely, and reached the
hotel in that city by Saturday night. He preached
on Sunday and then proceeded. to Greenwood, seven-
teen miles away, where he preached again at night.
The travelers went now to Texas. In Marshall he
found an old acquaintance from Augusta, who enter-
tained him, and meeting with the brother of Dr. Alex-
ander he rode to Henderson. It was a new town,
and the church was not yet finished. They did not
have, by many, enough preachers to fill the work,
but he did the best he could. From Henderson he
traveled West, facing the rains and barely escaping
a norther which came upon them in the midst of a
prairie, and at last reached Washington, the old capi-
tal of the State. The next day Robert Alexander gave
them a welcome to his home, and on Sunday the
Bishop dedicated a new church in Brenham, which
was near by. Thence he went, by way of Ruterville,
to La Grange, where he met the Texas Conference.
‘«The Texas Conference,’ he says, ‘‘embraces all
Western Texas, extending from the Trinity River to
the Rio Grande, and destined probably, at some day
not very distant, to annex the neighboring provinces
of Mexico.” Even then the German problem the
Texans have now to solve was before them, and the
Mexicans on the border and the Germans in the in-
terior much interested the missionary Bishop. The
Fames Osgood Andrew. 397

negro slaves, too, called for missionary work, and he
was anxious to meet the demand. In this work he
had one of the trials of his great heart—the want of
workers. Too many preachers in the East, too few in
the West; fields white; laborers hard to find in the
West and men standing idle in the market-place in
the East. They now turned their faces toward Hous-
ton, and reached the same old tavern in which, five
years before, he had found lodging on his first visit to
Texas. And here abruptly his itinerary ends, leaving
him in the heart of Texas, with the cholera in New
Orleans and possibly in Galveston. He, however,
committed himself calmly to God, and early in Janu-
ary, 1849, he was in Oxford again.

During May, 1848, the General Conference of the
M. E. Church met at Pittsburg and repudiated the
plan of separation. Bishop Andrew writes to Bishop
Soule: “. . . I know, of course, the recent
enactments at Pittsburg must produce no little con-
fusion along the border, and so I suppose we are to
have a border war now in earnest—altar against altar
and neighbor ‘against neighbor, I fear. May God
over-rule it all for good, and soon bring peace and
love again to our borders, as well as into our midst.
I fear that the establishment of this new Mission Con-
ference will operate very unfavorably to the peace
and quietude of our western border. . . .” This
border warfare was the great grief of his life. The
necessary division of the work he had hoped would
be peaceful,-and while he regretted to be even nomi-
nally separated from his Northern brethren, he could
see no reason why the harmony between the Con-
ferences should be broken,
398 The Life and Letters of

The life of a bishop has its monotony, and this year
1849 was quite uneventful. He remained at his
house, seeing after long-neglected home interests, un-
til November, when he began his visitations again.
This year he took in the Southern district—North
Carolina, South Carolina, Georgia, and Florida. His
pen was quite busy, and he sent out ringing appeals
for the missionary cause. He was never so eloquent
as when writing on this subject. He was intensely
interested in the mission to China and in the newly
established one in California, and was in every way
seeking to arouse the Church to greater liberality.

He returned to Oxford in the early part of 1850 for
a short breathing spell before going to the General
Conference in May. The Conference was to meet at
St. Louis, Mo. The fact that cholera was raging in
certain sections of the West led many to desire to
change the place of meeting, but the bishops were not
willing to do this, and the body assembled. The Con-
ference was not one of any great interest. It was the
second of the Methodist Episcopal Church South, and
its most important act was the election of a new
bishop. This was the life-long friend of Bishop An-
drew, Henry B. Bascom. His election promised re-
lief to an overworked Episcopacy, but alas! how soon
were the hopes built upon his election blasted ; for in
less than six months he was in his grave.

In the fall Bishop Andrew began again his journey.
He was now no longer young. For thirty-eight years
he had been a preacher, and for twenty a bishop. To
travel in those days was easier than it had been, but
still the stage-coach was often the only conveyance he
could find for very long journeys, and it was an un-
Fames Osgood Andrew. 399

comfortable vehicle to him. There was a very trying
feature in the work at this time ; it was the border war,
which he saw coming, and which had now come. He
was a man of peace, and war between any people was
pain to him, but that Methodism should be rent in
twain, and that there should be strife between Ephraim
and Judah was an especial grief; and yet -what else
could there be? The plan of separation was disre-
garded. The sectional feeling in both portions of the
country had become more and more intense. To leave
portions of Virginia, Missouri, and Kentucky without
supply from the Southern Church was to leave them
without a Methodist ministry. They would not have
any other, and so there were rival Methodisms in the
same fields. A necessity may-exist for such a state of
things, but it is never agreeable to the man who loves
union and concord, and the decision that there is ne-
cessity for it should be carefully reached. The China
Mission was now under headway, and he was in charge |
of it. The California Mission, which he had so earn-
estly advocated, was established, and his foster-son
Aleck, as he calls Alexander M. Wynne, was already
there with Dr. Boring, the superintendent, and other
co-laborers. His mission work called for constant
care and correspondence during the interval of the
Conferences. Bishop Bascom was appointed to the
Western District, and Bishop Andrew to Kentucky.
He met Bascom at Cynthiana, and while he was in
Kentucky the great man died, and Bishop Andrew
preached his funeral sermon at Louisville.

After the adjournment of the Kentucky Conference
he returned again to Oxford. His stay at home was
longer than usual, but he was not idle, His pen was
400 The Life and Letters of

at work, and the cares of the Church were constantly
pressing him. In the early fall he began his work
again. There were only four bishops for the large
field, and they were all old men. Soule had been
preaching fifty years, Capers forty-three, Andrew
thirty-eight, and Paine thirty-four. It is scarcely more
than necessary to make a simple mention of the fact
of his visitations until the General Conference of 1854.
In 1851 he had the Eastern District, in 1852 the South-
ern, and in 1853 he was. again in Texas and Arkansas.
He traveled during this winter over one thousand miles
in private conveyance, returning home in the early
part of the year 1854. He remained in Oxford during
the spring, watching beside a wife who was far from
well, and early in May he went to the General Con-
ference which met in Columbus, Ga. The Conference
was a very important one. The great suit between
the two General Conferences had been settled, and
there was a considerable sum to be disposed of. The
questions ofa publishing house and where it should be,
the election of agents, secretaries, and of bishops,
were all matters of concern. Among the prominent
candidates. for bishop,were two men very dear to him
—William Wightman and George F. Pierce. The
election came on and Pierce was elected ; Wightman
failed. by one miswritten ballot. George F. Pierce,
H. H. Kavanagh, and John Early were chosen bish-
ops. In ordaining Bishop Pierce he felt as if he was
laying hands on his own son, and his emotions were
of the deepest nature.

His dear Leonora was not well. She had not been
strong for years, and now her health had given en-
tirely away. He left the Conference before its ad-
James Osgood Andrew. 401

journment and hastened to Oxford. His gentle wife,
long an invalid, had been taken with a very severe
attack and sank under it. A short time after he
reached home she died. It was a terrible blow. He
loved her very tenderly, and his love was reciprocated
fully. He felt the pain in every fibre of his being.
He looked to be as rugged as an oak ; he was as sen-
sitive as an orange-tree. Twice he had been stricken,
and now his home was broken up. Although Mrs.
Andrew had been in feeble health for some time, her
death was a surprise to her friends, and, indeed, was
the result of a sudden and violent attack. The con-
dolence of his friends was especially grateful. Among
his letters I find two carefully preserved—one from
William Capers, the other from Robert Paine.

‘* ANDERSON, S. C., June 15, 1854.
“REV. BISHOP ANDREW :

“* My Dear Brother—A \etter from Susan to Mary
brings the sad intelligence of your second great be-
reavement. Yes, the greatest bereavement known to
man, ‘ born to trouble’ in this transitory life, has now
twice afflicted you. He who has dispensed it has or-
dained its severity, and by the dispensation of it re-
veals His will that you should suffer to the extent of
that severity. To lose a wife, who is felt to be one’s
self, loved as one’s self, and one’s most cherished self,
what is it not that is agonizing to the soul? It is
death to the spirit, and despair to the heart of man.
If one could be rent asunder and live, no one might
expect of him to take pleasure in any possessions he
might have while the torn muscles were quivering
and bleeding, or console himself with any hope of be-
4C2 The Life and Letters of

ing healed. One all-pervading agony, one all-absorb-
ing, all-consuming thought alone might possess him.
It is death—the death of everything but pain and an-
guish and despair. Death so desperate as to allow
of life in nothing. Death in the house, in the field,
in the closet, by the wayside, in solitude, in the crowd,
among friends as among strangers, by night and by
day, everywhere, at all times and in all things. The
death of a wife who is a wife in all that God meant
her to be, tv a husband who is a husband to the same
extent, so shocks the heart and confounds it as if it
were not material to his individual sense or interest in
life whether it were the whole world or that one per-
sor, his wife, which the husband has lost.

“«Such I consider, my dear brother, the natural
extent and intensity of your affliction. Your most
distant and least interested friends must feel for you,
for it has pleased God to lay His hand very heavily
upon you. That is, He has smitten you where the
stroke is sorest and saddest, and hardest to be sus-
tained with patience and resignation. I do most sin-
cerely sympathize with you, and yet I know how well
you are assured of the power and presence of Him
who holds dominion over death, and who would never
smite at all if He might not make it a blessing, even
death itself a sacrament of life. All things are subject
to Jesus, yet at the grave of Lazarus ‘ Jesus wept.’
He knew what He would presently do, and that in
truth the sorrow of Martha and Mary had but a seem-
ing, not a real cause; still He wept. How much
more for you. Yes, ‘Jesus wept.’ Blessed instance
of Divine’ compassion! Surest example of the Sa-
vior’s love! You, then, may weep. Sorrow is no
Fames Osgood Andrew. 403

sin. It was the mourning of Martha and Mary that
touched their Lord. Happy women—blessed sisters,
who, their brother in the grave, had Jesus to visit it
_With them weeping! It may be He had not come to
them at all save for the intensity of their sorrow.
Sorrow is sanctified for the exercise of the love of
our Almighty Savior. Shall I not, then, my good
brother, rather encourage you to weep than bid you
dry up your tears? Let them flow until Jesus wipes
them away. Philosophy is but a fool that knows not
how to help you ; Jesus does, and He will perform it.
He will because He is touched with the feeling of our
infirmities, and He would if it were only in approba-
tion of a sensibility which He has sanctified. He who
made the husband and wife to be one, and enjoined it
on husbands to love their wives, never meant that
they should part without sorrow.

“ But why all this to one who knows it and much
more? Not for information, but that I cannot refrain
from expressing to you what in similar circumstances
you might more fully and touchingly express to me.
I feel for your affliction. Poor creature that I am,
this and to pray for you is all that I can render.

‘“Mrs. Capers joins me in sincere condolence. God
be gracious to you, my dear brother, to the uttermost
of your need.

‘Believe me to be
‘Most sincerely and affectionately yours,
““W. CAPERS.”

‘* ABERDEEN, MIss., July 4, 1854.
‘‘ BISHOP ANDREW:
“« My Dear Brother—Yours conveying the mourn-
ful intelligence of the decease of your dear wife was
404, The Life and Letters of

received several days since, but knowing how impo-
tent are the attempts of our best eartlfly friends to
console our hearts under such overwhelming afflic-
tions, I have not hastened to reply. And yet I doubt
if there is one not more nearly connected with you
who more deeply and tenderly sympathizes with
you. Yes, my brother, full well—ah, too well !—do
I know how you feel. God sustain and comfort you ;
for only in relying on His Word and trusting in
His Son will you find strength to meet your trial
properly.

‘* Little did I think you would so soon be called to
suffer this blow. I knew your wife’s health was not
good—had been bad for several years—yet I hoped
she would again be well, and I did trust that she
might go with you to California and realize great good
from the trip. I saw you were uneasy about her at
the late General Conference, but while I was willing
you should return home in view of the illness in your
family and town, I did not suppose your wife’s health
was unusually bad; and I understand you now to say
that she was not then laboring under the disease
which took her off. Iam glad I encouraged you to
go. Ihave suffered so much anxiety in my absence
from home that I can feel for another.

‘(I have been very busy inspecting and arrang-
ing Bishop McKendree’s papers. What a jumble!
Nothing complete. Can you not contribute a paper
to his life? Do sit down and give me something
illustrative of that good Bishop. I want to see you
very much. I love you and deeply sympathize with
you,

“My love to your family. God bless and reunite
Fames Osgood Andrew. 405

them in heaven. Remember me also in love to
Bishop Pierce and family.
‘Your Brother,
““R, PAINE.”

In September he wrote his old friend Dr. Green:

‘NEAR OxForD, September 9, 1854.
‘My DEAR BROTHER:

‘*T know not where to find Bishop Soule, therefore
T address you, as I think you are perhaps more likely
to know his arrangements than any one else to whom
I could write. You are aware that I am expected to
go to California, and I wish to learn what help I can
rely upon for that work. I know that several men
offered their services to Bishop Soule at Columbus,
but I know not how many the Bishop accepted. As
he has made no communication on the subject, and as
time is flying rapidly and winter will soon be here, I
wish, of course, to know what amount of help I can
rely upon. Perhaps you can give me the desired in-
formation. We must have a good deal of help there
or be disgraced. If you can give me any light let me
have it. Iam glad that you have made a vigorous
beginning in the book matter. Hope its continuance
will be still more vigorous.

“I have passed through deep waters since I saw
you, but God is wise and good and always does right.
The death of my wife has broken me up. I cannot
leave my daughters alone in my long absences from
home, and have consequently broken up housekeeping.
And now, after having had a home for nearly forty
years, I am without one. This to a man of sixty is
406 The Life and Letters of

not very pleasant, but under the circumstances it is
probably the best thing that I can do. True, I have
as affectionate children and as kind friends as any man
was ever blessed with, and in one sense houses in
abundance; but still they all do not make home.
What would houses and friends be to you without
your excellent wife? May you never know the
anguish of seeing her die.

‘‘What about the meeting of the Bishops? I heard
it was to take place in Nashville on October 2d. I
have heard it rumored that both time and place have
been changed, but J know nothing definite, as none
of the Bishops have written me a line on the subject.
Can you give me any light? How is Brother McFer-
rin? I have deeply sympathized with him, as only
those can do who have been called to drink the same
bitter cup. My kind love to him. Remember me
very kindly to your wife, Sister Elliston, Aunt Polly,
and all the children, and believe me to be, my dear
Brother,

‘Yours very affectionately,
“JAMES O. ANDREW.”

He could not reconcile himself to longer residence
in his home. The family was a small one—Sarah and
Mary and Jimmie. He could not leave the girls alone.
He resolved to close the house in Oxford and visit his
children.

A month after the death of his wife my mother died.
Atlanta was not far from Oxford, and my father re-
quested him to preach her funeral sermon, which he
did with great emotion. He had known my mother
all her life ; had been her father’s colleague—had, per-
Fames Osgood Andrew. 407

haps, received her into the Church, had been her pas-
tor, had baptized her children. She had watched at
the bedside of his Amelia, as my father had attended
her in her last illness. He loved her as his own child,
and as he preached that day all the man was moved.
He spoke of her and then of himself, and said he was
like a dying oak in a forest of dead trees, with all his
mates lifeless around him.

This bereaved man never murmured. He believed
in God, and that all things worked’together for good
to those who loved Him; and he went calmly and
serenely on his way. Work for his Master was his
only solace in sorrow. Octavia was in Alabama, and
that he might do some work in that State, as well as
to see her, in the early fall or late summer he went
there. He was not willing for Bishop Pierce to leave
Georgia. He did not think two bishops should reside
in one State, and he decided to remove. He expected
to go to California in the early part of 1855, to be
gone for some months, and so, late in the year 1854,
he married again. Mr. Rush says:

“« He was married in the latter part of 1855 to Mrs.
Emily W. Childers, formerly Mrs. Woolsey—in her
girlhood Emily Sims, and a member of his congrega-
tion in Augusta. She was connected with the Bishop
by the marriage of their respective kindred. She had
been the intimate friend of his first wife, and was the
cousin of his second. . For more than forty years they
had known each other. Her practical sense, elegant
manners, deep religious life, and great devotion to the
Church, made her an admirable companion for his old
age. His daughters regretted that their father’s con-
victions of duty led him so far to disregard the senti-
408 The Life and Letters of

ments of society as to marry before the usual time,
but were assured his reasons were good.”

He married in six months after the death of his
wife, and the fastidious objected to this apparently
undue haste. He was never controlled in his actions
by public opinion, but he was not indifferent to it nor
disposed to defy it; to do right was his first great ob-.
ject. There were, however, reasons which were over-
ruling in his mind, the principal one of which was that
he was to go to California in the winter. He was now
nearly sixty years old, and by no means strong, sub-
ject to severe and sudden attacks when he needed
kindly care. His daughters were not willing for him
to take the long journey alone, and this reason led
him to hasten his marriage a few months before it was
otherwise to have taken place.

His Episcopal district for this year was a small one
— Alabama and Louisiana. ‘He presided over these
and made arrangements for his visit to the Pacific
coast.
Fames Osgood Andrew. 409

CHAPTER XI.
LIFE IN SUMMERFIELD.

1855-1861.

Panama.—Letter to Rush.—California.—Recullections of Dr. Fitzgerald.
—Return to Alabama.—Visits Oxford.—Virginia Conference.—Great
sermon.—North Carolina Conference at Wilmington.—Florida Con-
ference.—Rest at Summerfield.—Visit to Georgia.—Death of Eliza-
beth Lovett.“Episcopal Tour.—Changes in his old Conferences.—
Serious Attack of Sickness.—Compelled to Turn Back in Missouri.—
Remained at’ Home until May.—General Conference at Nashville.—
Episcopal Visitation.—Visit to Georgia.—Contributions to the Press.
—Visit to Texas, —Changes.—Missionary Enterprise.—Central Amer-
ican Mission.

ISHOP ANDREW presided over the Louisi-
ana Conference in New Orleans and then took
the steamer for Aspinwall, to go to San Francisco by
way of the Isthmus of Panama. His wife was with
him. The journey, now that the new railroad across
the Isthmus was completed, could be made with com-
paratively little difficulty, and he reached Panama
safely in good time, but too late for the outgoing
steamer. He wrote from Panama to Rush:

‘*PanaMA, New GRENADA, March 12, 1855.
“DEAR WESLEY :

““As I reckoned that my little Occie and yourself
may begin to feel some anxiety to hear from us, I
have concluded to write you a brief letter. We
reached Aspinwall, the terminus of the Panama Rail.

18
410 The Life and Letters of

way, on Friday the 2d instant, and on the same after-
noon left by rail for this place, hoping to sail the same
evening, on the steamer John L. Stephens, for San
Francisco, but she had sailed about an hour before
our arrival, so we were compelled to remain until the
departure of the next steamer, which will probably be
about the 15th. The Golden Age is said to be a very
fine boat. She now lies at an island about ten miles
distant, but is expected up this evening or to-morrow
morning. We intend to go on board and remain till she
sails. We hope to improve our circumstances by this
arrangement, as we are now boarding at a miserably
dirty establishment, and paying ten dollars per week.

‘* This is an uncomfortable, noisy, dirty place. We
have Roman Catholicism in all degradation, dilap-
idated churches everywhere, going to ruin, yet there
is almost a perpetual ringing of bells, so that if there
is any religion in brazen sounds, this ought to be a
place where the devil has no foothold. But he has
become so accustomed to these sounds that I fear he
nestles in undisturbed security in the Church and
everywhere else through the city. The place con-
tains, I am told, about 8,000 people, and I think
there are some fourteen or fifteen churches, and Cath-
olic priests meet you everywhere. The people are
lazy and filthy in their habits, especially the natives.
The water for drinking is nearly all brought from the
mountain—about a mile and a half—on the backs of
mules. They fix a frame on thé animal which holds
two earthen jars or two casks, containing about eight
or ten gallons each. In this way they transport al-
most everything. There are a few horse-carts, and I
think I have seen two or three drays. But they cling
Fames Osgood A ndrew. Alt

to the old usage of their fathers in making their don-
keys carry everything on their backs. It is sometimes
amusing to see a long string of mules, loaded with
gold or silver, which they are to carry across the isth-
mus, following each other, the bridle of each beast
fastened to the tail of the one before him. In this
way they carry millions across to the Atlantic.

‘The railroad is a great triumph of American en-
terprise and capital. It is said to have cost seven
millions of dollars, to have employed almost continu-
ally seven thousand laborers, of whom hundreds if
not thousands of poor fellows fell victims to the cli-
mate. The road is now complete so far as to justify
the passage of a daily train both ways, but it is far
from being thoroughly finished for the transit of heavy
freight, and their tariff on freight is so enormously
high as to render it objectionable. This matter, how-
ever, will regulate itself after a while. The climate
is as hot as July with you, and I am told never varies
much in its temperature. We have the cocoanut, the
plantain, the banana, the pineapple, and the bread-
fruit tree all growing in great luxuriance. You can
scarcely imagine the difference in these various fruits
when taken fresh from the tree. By the time you get
them they are scarcely like the same fruits. Sugar-
cane and cotton both do well here, and the coffee
grows wild. But the natives are too incorrigibly lazy
to do anything. The earth yields, almost without
labor, all that is absolutely necessary for existence,
and consequently they need not be expected to
labor,

‘‘T have preached twice in a little Protestant chapel
they have here, which is, I believe, the only Protes-
412 The Life and Letters of

tant house of worship in the republic, although the
laws of New Grenada allow entire toleration of all
religions ; and is it not wonderful, that although it
has been the case for some years, yet the American
Church seems to have slumbered over the wants of
this important portion of America, and is making no
effort to enlighten ahd save these ignorant and dying
thousands, to whom the way is open?

“My own health is good. Emily has been quite
sick, but is now up and I hope ready to proceed on
her voyage. In the midst of her sickness she has
been happy in God and rejoicing in hope of His glory.
She sends a great deal of very special love to you and
Occie. I think of you, my dear children, and pray
for you every day, and look forward with anxious hope
to the time when, if it pleases God, we shall meet again,
and if not on earth, we have a better home to which
our believing hearts look forward. I find God here
as everywhere else, and though deprived of a thou-
sand blessings and comforts which home affords,
yet we have the sweet assurance that God is with
us. We are here not on our own business, not in
quest of gold; it is the Lord’s work we are trying
to do, and may we not safely confide in Him at all
times? God bless you both. Many kisses for my
dear Occie.

“ Very affectionately,
“Jas. O. ANDREW.”

In good time, however, the steamer was ready for
the voyage, and without adventure of any moment
he reached San Francisco. He had been among the
first to urge upon the church the occupancy of Calli-
SFames Osgood Andrew. 413

fornia. He had stood by the Mission in all its vicis-
situdes. He had selected its first superintendent, and
sent with him his foster son Alex. M. Wynn. The
Mission had struggled bravely and successfully and
was now the Pacific Conference. Bishop Soule had
visited it the year before and some very delicate and
trying matters had been brought before him. Changes
of the most trying kind had taken place, and it re-
quired prudence and grace to direct affairs, but as
usual he was sufficient for the demand. He found |
himself very much at home on that far-off shore, for
most of the preachers composing the Conference had
gone out by his advice. Dr. Boring had now returned
to the States. Mr. Wynn, after reaching Cuba, had
been sent back by his physician, but he found Wil-
liam A. and John C. Simmons (whose father lived in the
same village with himself for years, and whom he had
known, from their childhood), Fitzgerald, Kelly, Ful-
ton, and others, whom he had known in the States.
The work of the Conference was gone through with
without difficulty, and he spent some time in traveling
over the State. He was unceasingly active while he
was here. He preached in the mines, at the Camp
meetings, visited the big trees, studied the China-
man, and enjoyed all the novelties of the wonderland
with the ardor of a school-boy. He was with his Ox-
ford boys a good deal, and he gave, in a lecture after
his return, a very mirth-moving account of how Jacky,
as he called him, had adapted himself to the demands
of the new State. As cook, laundryman, preacher,
or exhorter he was always equal to the demand. He
remained in California only a month after the Con-
ference adjourned and then returned by the Isth-
414 The Life and Letters of

mus. Dr. O. P. Fitzgerald, who at this time had
been five years in California, gives us a very pleas-
ant picture of the old Bishop as he appeared in Cali-
fornia, ;

*“In 1855 Bishop Andrew went to California to look
after our struggling church in that strange, new field.
He was the man for the occasion. Dissension and
discouragement were prevalent among our little band
of Southern Methodists there. The experience, the
firmness, the wisdom, the fatherly spirit, and, above
all, the patience for which he was pre-eminent, were
needed. He was accompanied by his wife, whose
presence was a separate evangel to those wild, reck-
less Californians in those days when the ‘ flush times’
were not yet past, and good women were scarcer than
the other sort. To this day her madonna-like face and
gracious ways are remembered.

“Tt came out soon after the Bishop’s arrival in Cali-
fornia that it was expected by some that he would
take steps for the withdrawal of Southern Methodism
from the Pacific coast. :

““«Tf that is what they want, they sent the wrong
man,’ said he, in a tone that left no room for doubt as
to his feeling and purpose.

“‘The most important points in the Pacific Confer-
ence were visited by the Bishop, and there was soon
perceptible a more resolute and hopeful spirit among
the preachers and people.

“The Annual Conference was held at Sacramento
City.. The session was stormy, and but for the Bishop's
self-command and tact there would have been a disas-
trous explosion of the combustible elements. But with
masterly hand he steered clear of the rocks, and the
Fames Osgood Andrew. 415

new Conference-year began under more hopeful condi-
tions. Two incidents of the session illustrate con-
spicuous elements of the Bishop’s nature—his practical
wisdom and his strong sensibility.

‘« The eccentric John Sanders preached at the after-
noon hour on Conference-Sunday. The church was
crowded, and the Bishop sat on a front seat near
the pulpit. The sermon was full of rugged strength,
with an occasional touch of pathos, all the more effec-
tive because it was unexpected from that stern, strong
preacher. It was like a violet blooming on the edge
of alava-bed. Speaking of the heavenly life and the
glorified bodies of the saints, Sanders said: ‘ There
will be no disease, weakness, or imperfection in that
world of. blessedness and glory. The glorified body
will be the fit vehicle of the glorified soul. Among
the millions of the blood-washed hosts there will be no
stunted growth or deformed body.’

““The words seemed to open a mighty fountain of
feeling in the Bishop’s soul; the tears gushed from his
eyes and he wept audibly. The chord touched was a
tender one, and took him back to the Georgia hills
and to the brother of his boyhood. The preacher’s
prophecy has been realized, for the brothers have met
and embraced on the hills of God.”

The other incident is taken from the book of “ Cali-
fornia Sketches,” by Dr. O. P. Fitzgerald: ‘It was
observed during the Conference session that there was
a cloud upon the mind of a devout and somewhat ex-
traordinary preacher named Fulton. About the third
morning of the session, while some important measure
was pending, Fulton rose and addressed the Bishop in
the chair.
416 The Life and Letters of

“‘* Bishop, I am in great mental distress. I am
sorry to interrupt the business of the Conference, but
I can bear it no longer.’

““« What’s the matter, Brother Fulton?’ asked the
Bishop.

‘©*T am afraid I have sinned,’ said Fulton, with
bowed head and faltering tone.

“¢*TIn what way?’ said the Bishop.

““«On my way to the Conference I became very
hungry while riding in the stage-coach. I fear I
thought too much of my food. You know, Bishop,
that if we fix our affections, even for one moment, on
any creature more than on God, it is sin.’

“©¢ Well, Brother Fulton,’ said the Bishop, ‘if at
your hungriest moment the choice had been presented
to you whether you would give up your dinner or
your God, would you have hesitated ?’

‘« No, sir,’ said Fulton meekly, after a short pause.

‘©« Then, my dear brother, the case is clear; you
have done no wrong,’ said the Bishop, in his hearty,
off-hand way.

“Fulton sat down and burst into tears of joy, his
poor morbid soul fully relieved of its load.

‘*The Bishop’s preaching in California was un-
equaled. One of his sermons at Sonora echoed
among those hills for many a day. His subject was
the prodigal son, and there was a fatherliness, a ten-
derness and pathos that broke many hearts. He
seemed to yearn with inexpressible pity over the wild
and wayward wanderers before him, and his appeals
were irresistible. One miner, who had come up from
his diggings on the Stanislaus River to hear the
Bishop, went up to him at the close of the service,
Fames Osgood Andrew. 417

and with tear-stained face handed him a twenty-dollar
gold piece, saying:

““*T feel like I had had a glimpse of home and a
touch of old and better days.’

‘‘When the Bishop left California the Church was
filled with new hope, and the laborers were working
together in harmony and with tokens of success.
When his sheaves are all brought in there will besome
from the far West.”

He had decided never to live in Oxford again. The
old home had too many “‘ haunted chambers ”’ for him,
and casting about for a residence he chose Summer-
field, Alabama, a quiet little hamlet, some eight miles
from Selma, where the Centenary Female College
was established. His old friend and neighbor, Arche-
laus H. Mitchell, resided there ; the community were
all Methodists and people of piety and cultivation. It
was convenient to the Alabama River, and not diffi-
cult of access. His son-in-law, the Rev. John Wesley
Rush, has kindly contributed a sketch of his life here.

“On his return from California he bought and fixed
up a very nice and comfortable home in Summerfield
in which to spend his old age and meet the end of life.
At this time Summerfield was a most delightful place
of residence ; the location was healthy and the citizens
wealthy, social, intelligent, and pious. It was also
the principal centre of the educational interests of the
Alabama Conference; the schools, male and female,
numbered about three hundred pupils, and many of
the young men were preparing for the ministry. To
impress for good the young people gathered here from
all parts of the Southwest was his main reason for set-
tling in this place.

18*
418 The Life and Letters of

“His family now consisted of himself, wife, his two
daughters, Sarah and Mary, ‘his niece, Miss Martha
Spencer, and James, his only son. Mutual love and
forbearance, confidence and help controlling every
heart and hand, in a group so pious and intelligent,
could not fail to make a happy home. Those wha
have formed their ideas of Bishop Andrew from his
manner as President of a Conference and from his
pulpit utterances, and have never seen him in the
affectionate abandon of himself in the bosom of his
family, have no full and proper conception of the man’s
real character. The sternness that occasionally char-
acterized him in Conference, and which was sometimes
necessary to the peaceful control of a body of excited
men, was never seen in his own house. The strong,
sarcastic words he so frequently used in the pulpit,
when denouncing the corruption and meanness of sin,
were never employed when talking with his family.
At home he was all love and gentleness and patience
and good-humor. There was ever maintained a strong
government of the family. He sat on a throne—a
throne, too, whose will was very seldom, if ever, dis-
regarded. But the power of that throne was the
power of love and not of authority. No man’s family
ever obeyed him more implicitly, for no man ever had
more entirely the love and respect of wife, children,
and servants. No matter what company was present
he retired punctually at nine o’clock, when the chil-
dren all invariably gave him the good-night kiss. In
the morning they greeted him the same way, and al-
ways inquired how he had slept. The servants also,
on leaving the house, bade him good-night, and the
next morning inquired kindly after his health.
Yames Osgood Andrew, 419

‘‘ Where there was such abounding love and kind-
ness, there were no storms of ill-temper, no volcanoes
of wrath occasionally deluging everybody with fire
and hot ashes. Nobody expected to be whipped or
scolded. There was no flurry or hurry, nor confusion ;
everything was peaceful and quiet always, and every-
body had the widest liberty of words and action com-
patible with the general good, and with personal
duties assigned by the Bishop or Mrs. Andrew. On
this account, to persons of less patience of temper,
and with ideas more rigid and exact of such matters,
his family government seemed little better than an-
archy, and the general management of his business
the very perfection of carelessness. And it may be
possible that the extreme to which he carried this prin-
ciple of love in his government would ruin the families
and fortunes of most men. But it is very certain it
worked well in his case, as was proved by the prevail-
ing tranquillity of the household and the general re-
sults upon his family and affairs.

““By reason of bad health (consumption), Mary
spent most of her time in Florida with dear old friends,
the Prices, formerly of Oxford. Sarah was with her. -
In the spring of 1857 she died while in search of
health, and was buried near Miccanopy. By this sad
event a fresh sorrow was thrown over the cheerful
home at Summerfield. Mrs. Lovett’s death occurred
in 1856, Mary’s in 1857, and was followed by that of
Mrs. Merriwether in 1862. The Bishop loved his daugh-
ters tenderly as a father, and fully appreciated the
rare excellence and beauty of their characters. They
were a great joy and comfort to his heart. But when
God removed them from earth he submitted with an
420 The Life and Letters of

unmurmuring heart, and mourned not without hope,
being fully persuaded that before the lapse of many
years more he would greet them again in heaven. It
may be added here that within a few years of this
date both the daughters of Mrs. Andrew also died—
Mrs. Sturdevant first, leaving a little boy five or six
years old, who was reared by his grandmother An-
drew; afterward Mrs. Mixon, one of the loveliest
women and most affectionate of daughters.

“It was the Bishop’s habit to rise at four o'clock,
bathe his head in cold water, dress, and pray. He
then read the Bible till the bell rung for prayer and
breakfast. The time at table was never hurried, the
occasion being a time to enjoy conversation as well as
food. After breakfast he repaired to the study, where
he spent the forenoon alone, reading books, writing
for the papers, and writing letters, interrupting his
work now and then for the purpose of prayer. A little
after noon he came out and rested a while before din-
ing.

‘“«The afternoons were spent reading reviews and
newspapers, visiting the schools and his neighbors,
-especially if sick, and attending any religious meeting
that might be on hand. About sunset he withdrew
himself for meditation and prayer. He took the lead-
ing reviews of Great Britain and this country, and
kept on hand the latest book on the ever-changing
attitude of infidelity to the Bible, and thus he kept
well up with the spirit of the times. He read with
great rapidity ; some books he simply jumped through,
just touching the highest points of thought here and
there in the different chapters. But after going
through in this way he knew about all of the discus. ©
Ffames Osgood Andrew. 421

sion that was worth knowing. After supper he did no
work at all, the time being sacredly devoted to his
wife and children. This was the happiest period of
the whole day, one which he never neglected or
failed to enjoy. It was a kind of religious and literary
family sociable, in which all seemed to be on terms of
equality, each having a perfect right to introduce any
subject of personal or general interest, and to talk or
read upon it ad libitum, the only exception being
that harsh criticism on personal character was abso-
lutely forbidden.

‘« Such was the usual manner in which he spent his
time when resting from the toils of his episcopal work
and travels. His condition in life being easy, his
mind was under no strain from pecuniary embarrass-
ments, though it was never free from the care of the
churches. His children were all educated except
James, who was at home going to school to excellent
masters and was prepared to enter college in 18509.
From college James went to the war, and did not
graduate until two years after its close.”

This is a charming picture of the good old Bishop’s
later years. The election of the three new Bishops,
each of whom was strong to labor, gave him a little
more repose, but the work was extending and the de-
mands of the Church were still very constant, so that
he had not much time for rest. For twenty-five years

-he had been a Bishop, and was now practically the
head of the College. On his return to the East,
he visited Oxford. He delivered at the church, to
his old friends, a most delightful lecture on California.
‘‘ After describing the country,” says Dr. Allen, of
China, ‘‘ for two hours he suddenly stopped. ‘Go on,
422 The Life and Letters of.

go on,’ said his hearers, ‘you have left us in Cali-
fornia ; you must bring us out again,’ and he did very
delightfully.”

He presided, in the fall, over the Virginia, North
Carolina, and Florida Conferences. Most of the
preachers who were now appointed by him had en-
tered the Conferences since he had been a Bishop,
and were like children to him. He grew more and
more fatherly and simple as he grew older. Those
grand sermons that once thrilled the multitude were
now like the tender talks of a father to his family,
and yet there was no decay of any mental power.
He gave all his thoughts to the work of stationing the
preachers and directing the work ; no man ever did it
more firmly, tenderly, or wisely. The Virginia Con-
ference of 1855, over which he presided, was in the
midst of the most disagreeable and unhappy contest
which had followed the disruption. The Baltimore
Conference had for many years held the valley of Vir-
ginia, and a large portion of the upper part of the
State was in its boundary. Many members of this
body had led in the attack upon Bishop Andrew, and
while the Conference, as a conference, adhered to the
North and was decidedly anti-slavery, there were no
truer Southern men living than the Baltimore Confer-
ence preachers in Virginia. But many of the older
Methodists, especially those of the younger race, had
so revolted against the course of the Conference lead-
ers as to positively withdraw. To save these Metho-
dists, as has been noted, the Southern church had
been organized in all this section, and now some of
the ablest men of the Virginia Conference were ap-
pointed to this territory. The Virginia Conference,
Yames Osgood Andrew, 423

over which he had so often presided, has always been
a strong Conference, and now a body of young men
were coming in who were:to make it still more
famous. Bennett, Blackwell, Jas. A. Duncan, Proc-
tor Granbury, the Petersons, Paul Whitehead were
all young men coming to the front. Doggett, John
E. Edwards, Rosser, Langhorn, Lee, and Manning
were still in their prime. The Conference had over
thirty-two thousand members, and its liberality was
evinced by its contribution of $12,500 to Missions.

Dr. John E, Edwards gives us a very delightful
reminiscence of this Petersburg Conference :

*‘T have personal occasion for further recollection
of Bishop Andrew’s visit to the Virginia Conference
at the session of 1855. At that time I was pastor of
the Centenary Charge, in Richmond. My health was
greatly impaired by hard work: and an obstinate
bronchial affection, and ‘ preachers’ sore throat,’ that
threatened to lay me aside from the active work of the
pastorate. My parishioners and personal friends pro-
posed, at their own expense, to send me over the
waters on a tour of the continent of Europe for rest
and recovery, with the further proposition that they
defray all the expenses of a temporary supply during
my absence, provided the Bishop would reappoint
me to my charge and give his official consent to the
arrangement.

‘“‘Two or three leading laymen, in company with
myself, approached Bishop Andrew on the subject,
not without some misgivings as to the success of our
application. The Bishop heard the statement and
proposition, and promptly responded in an off-hand,
whole-souled sort of a way, about as follows: ‘I am
424. The Life and Letters of

but too glad to grant the request. Itisa great pleas-
ure to me to know that our people have such an ap-
preciation of their pastors. I will reappoint Brother
Edwards to the Centenary Charge with the under-
standing that he is to have leave of absence during
the year, for his trip to Europe.’ Turning to me, he
said, ‘I congratulate you, my brother, on your good
fortune, in having such generous and thoughtful
friends. Go, my brother, and God's blessing be on
you and your chargé. God bless the dear brethren
who are so considerate of their pastor.’ I did go, and
recovered my health. But for that respite and recrea-
tion, I think it more than probable I should have
been dead and forgotten long ago.”

‘*The Rev. Anthony Dibbrell, of the Conference,

- died of yellow fever, in Norfolk, but a few months
before the session of the Conference. A memorial
service was held in the Washington Street Church in
honor of this heroic and powerful preacher who fell at
his post, and Bishop’ Andrew delivered the funeral
discourse on the solemn and affecting occasion. The.
large house was crammed to its utmost capacity—
every inch of standing room even in the aisles and
galleries was occupied. From the first sentence to
the close of his discourse the Bishop held his audience,
by the magic spell of his eloquence, for the space of
an hour and a half without a thought of weariness or
discomfort arising from the crowded condition of the
congregation. That good man, Gesner Harrison, Pro-
fessor of Greek in the University of Virginia, stood in
the middle aisle, about midway between the pulpit
and the front door, wedged in by a mass of eager
hearers around him. I see him now, with quivering

\
Fames Osgood Andrew. 425

muscles and streaming eyes, standing as one in a
trance, all unconscious of the lapse of time, or, it
would seem, of the presence of any human being
other than himself and the great preacher in the
pulpit. The loss of that speech at Salisbury, N. C.,
and of that funeral discourse of the Rev. Anthony
Dibbrell at Petersburg, Va., leaves a void in the
annals of our literature that can never be supplied,
and leaves the name of Bishop James O. Andrew, D.D.,
without a record and memorial that would have per-
petuated Azs name in the imperishable literature of
his church when his gravestone shall have crumbled
- to dust.”

The Rev. Alex. G. Brown gives a fuller account:

“« First.—The nature of faith was defined in the
language of the Apostle Paul, in the first verse of the
chapter in which the text occurs: ‘ Now, faith is the
substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things
not seen.’ This definition was explained and illus-
trated, and the congregation, especially the ministers,
were affectionately urged to maintain this view of
the subject in contradistinction from that erroneous
theory which would make the faith of God’s people
nothing more than a cold, rationalistic belief.

“¢ Secondly.—The sure foundation.of faith was found
in the immutable promises of God's holy word. These
promises, as given to the saints of the olden time,
which are all ‘ yea and amen in Christ Jesus,’ embrace
both material and spiritual blessings, the earthly and
the heavenly Canaan ; blessings for life and death, for
time and eternity. Abraham,‘ though the father of
the faithful, did not enjoy on earth the full realization
of these precious promises. He had no earthly home
426 The Life and Letters of

for himself or for his family, but ‘ dwelt in tabernacles
with Isaac and Jacob, the heirs with him of the same
promises.’ Yet, while a stranger and a pilgrim on
earth, he was abundantly sustained and blessed; for,
with the eye of faith he beheld the promises afar off;
he was fully persuaded of them, and embraced them ;
and thus enjoyed, in his present experience, ‘ the sub-
stance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not
seen.’ This was insisted upon as the privilege, yea,
the duty, of every sincere disciple of Christ. Faith
should not only enthrone God in our hearts, but en-
able us to ‘endure as seeing him who is invisible.’
Its vision of divine things should be so clear and dis-
tinct as to make them sublime and precious realities
in the religious consciousness of God’s people. Thus,
heaven should begin on earth in the heart of every
believer.

What’er we hope, by faith we have ;

Future and past subsisting now.
Faith lends its realizing light,

The clouds disperse, the shadows fly,
Th’ Invisible appears in sight,

And God is seen with mortal eye.

“ Thirdly.—Faith, resting securely on this imperish-
able foundation, never fails to develop a life of entire
consecration to God and his holy service. By faith
Abel offered an acceptable sacrifice, by which he ob-
tained witness that he was righteous. The faith of
Enoch would never have translated him to heaven if it
had not first secured this testimony ¢hat he pleased God.
‘ By faith Abraham, when he was called to go out into
a place which he should afterward receive for an in-
heritance, obeyed; and went out, not knowing whither
James Osgood Andrew. 427

he went.’ These ancient servants of God ‘ confessed
that they were strangers and pilgrims on the earth.’
Here they had no abiding city. They sought ‘a city
which hath foundations, whose builder and maker is
God.’ Thus, as strangers and pilgrims in this world,
our faith should develop lives of holy consecration to
God. The obedience of Abraham was eloquently de-
scribed as an example worthy of pious emulation.
We were exhorted. to ‘deny ourselves of all ungodli-
ness and worldly lusts, living soberly, righteously, and
godly in this present world, looking for that blessed
hope, and the glorious appearing of the great God,
and our Saviour, Jesus Christ, who gave himself for
us, that he might redeem us from all iniquity and
purify unto himself a peculiar people, zealous of good
works.’

“ Fourthly.—The reward of faith was brought under
consideration. It was maintained that faith has its
reward in this life, in death, and in eternity. This
proposition was beautifully illustrated in the examples
of the text. Did not God reward the faith of His an-
cient servants in all the pilgrimage of life? Did He
ever leave or forsake them? Was He not with them
in the dying hour? Did they not die ‘in faith ? ’—
And hath He not prepared for them a city—the city,
of the New Jerusalem, which John beheld from the
Mount of Vision, descending from God out of heaven ?
And so shail He reward the faith of His people in all
the ages. So hath He rewarded the honored brethren
whose death we commemorate to-day. The Lord
counted them worthy, putting them into the ministry ;
His presence went with them to all their charges and
blessed them in all their labors, giving them many
428 The Life and Letters of

souls for their hire and seals unto their ministry. And
who can doubt that he was with them in the hour of
death? They ‘died in faith.’ Their faith triumphed
over death and the grave, shouting, ‘O death, where
is thy sting! O grave, where is thy victory!’ They
have entered in, through the gates, into the city ; they
walk its golden streets, and drink from its crystal
fountains; all tears have been wiped from their eyes;
and they have no more sorrow nor crying, neither
shall they suffer any more pain. There is ‘no night
there ; and they need no candle, neither light of the
sun; for the Lord God giveth them light, and they
shall reign for ever and ever.’

“‘In conclusion, the Bishop eloquently alluded to
California, as illustrative of his subject. He embarked
in a splendid ship for the city of San Francisco ; and
after a long and perilous voyage, it was announced
that he was passing through the ‘ Golden Gate,’ which
opens from the rough waters of the Pacific to the well-
protected harbor of San Francisco Bay. The passen-
gers all rushed to the upper deck ; and soon the mag-
nificent city of our western coast broke upon their
vision. As we neared the port, said the Bishop, we
saw many people standing upon the shore, waving a
joyous welcome to our approaching vessel. Soon the
ship was made fast, and the passengers were all on
shore. And such a scene of grateful joy I never be-
held! Friend clasped the hand of friend in happy
recognition; parents embraced their children. from
whom they had suffered a long separation, and wives
were restored to their husbands in the land of gold,
whither they had gone in pursuit of their earthly for-
tunes. All rejoiced; and many wept and shouted for
Fames Osgood Andrew. 429

joy. Oh, it was a happy day! So, my brethren we
are now upon the ocean of life. We have embarked
in the old ship of Zion for the distant port of heaven.
Thanks be unto God who hath given us a free passage
and guaranteed our safety! The voyage may be long
and the storms may be severe; we may grow weary.
of the trip and sometimes fear that all will be lost.
But never mind—Jesus is our Captain ; He will bring
us safely through the perils of the deep. Soon, if
faithful, we shall reach the ‘ Golden Gate.’ The City
of our God shall break upon our enraptured eyes;
and its shores shall be lined with the loved ones who
have gone before. Even now I see them! With
palms of victory and crowns of glory, they are waving
us welcome to the blissful shore. There I see the
sainted spirits of our beloved and honored dead—
Dibbrell, Eskridge, Jones, and Gibson. They have
safely reached the ‘shining shore.’ Soon we will
meet them. Oh, it will be a glorious re-union! We
will clasp them in the arms of perpetual embrace, and
forever shout the praises of Him who hath loved us
and redeemed us from our sins by His own blood, and
made us kings and priests unto our God. And all the
angels shall say, ‘Amen; blessing, and glory, and
wisdom, and thanksgiving, and honor, and praise, and
might, be unto our God for ever and ever.’ Amen.”

From hence he came to the North Carolina Confer-
ence, which met in Wilmington. This was the first
time he had presided over a Conference in this little
city. Around no place clustered more precious mem-
ories. Here he came with his young wife and spent
two of the most delightful years of his life. The Con-
ference was not quite as large in territory as it is now,
430 The Life and Letters of

but it had seven districts fully supplied with preachers,
and twenty-nine thousand members. It contributed
during the year $10,000 for missions. From Wilming-
ton he went to Florida. Over twenty years before he
had gone into this territory while it was connected
with the Georgia Conference, and traveled extensively
throughit. It was now a promising young Confer-
ence, embracing nearly all of Lower Georgia and all of
Florida east of the Chattahoochee River. There were
seven districts, extending from Key West to Albany in
Georgia. The work of appointing preachers is al-
ways difficult, and especially so when the Bishop has
such a field as this to provide with laborers. There
were but few parts of the work where family comfort
could be hoped for. There were no railroads as yet in
the young State, and provision for the bare necessa-
ries of life was very scanty. There was, however, quite
abody of efficient and laborious men. He made the ap-
pointments as best he could and returned to Alabama.

His Episcopal district during the year had led him
to the shores of the two great oceans. He had crossed
the great Andes chain of mountains twice and trav-
eled over twenty thousand miles, but with less fatigue
than he had known in his first tour to Tennessee and
the farther West.

He was now needing rest, and he found it in his
quiet home at Summerfield. Here cultivated Chris-
tian society, congenial in every way, provided him
with those social enjoyments which he was fond of,
and for a while his sky was calm, but the clouds were
again gathering. He went to the Commencement at
Macon, and thence to Newton to see his dear’ chil-
dren Hennie and Elizabeth. Elizabeth met him with
James Osgood Andrew. 431

her sweet, loving smile and her tender kiss, as she had
done for nearly forty years of her beautiful life. Ina
week’s time he buried her. Stricken again, he bent
his submissive head, and went on about his work.
His Episcopal charge was the Tennessee and Holston
Conferences, and from these he once more came to the
South Carolina Conference. Into this Conference he
came forty-three years before. Not a single man of
those who were active then was in the work now,
Henry Bass and Reddick Pierce, now retired, were
waiting for their change. As he looked over the Con-
ference, although the fathers were missing he found
the sons in their places. W.M. Wightman, in the
splendor of his power, was President of the newly es-
tablished Wofford College, and Whitefoord Smith,
whose career had been so brilliant and useful, was
professor in the same college. The four sons of his
old colleague, John Mood, were members of the Con-
ference. Francis M. Kennedy, the son of his first
Presiding Elder, was now admitted into full connec-
tion—after the Conference adjourned he came once
more to preside over the Georgia Conference. The
first name on the list of applicants for admission on
trial was his son-in-law Robert W. Lovett, who had
buried his wife the summer before. As the Bishop
surveyed this Conference he sadly asked, where were
the co-laborers of his early years. One of them was
left, Lovick Pierce, all the rest were gone.

He remained at home during the spring and sum-
mer of 1857 making, during the time, a visit to New-
ton County to his children. He had for years suffered
with occasional attacks of bowel disease. During the
summer he was quite ill, but rallied sufficiently to at-
432 The Life and Letters of

‘tempt his annual visitation. When he reached Boon-
ville, Mo., after having presided over the St. Louis
and Missouri Conferences he found himself unable to
go forward—and for the only time in his life he turned
his back on his work and returned home.

During May, 1858, the Fourth General Conference
of the Methodist Episcopal Church South met in
Nashville. It was an uneventful, unexciting session.
As soon as it was over he returned to Alabama and
in the fall presided over the Holston, Tennessee, South
Carolina, and Florida Conferences. -

In the spring of 1859 he made a rapid tour through
Georgia and then returned to Alabama, where he re-
mained until early in the autumn when he began his
tour through West Virginia, Kentucky, Louisville,
Memphis, and Louisiana.

While he was at home his pen was busier than
ever before. During this year the Publishing House
published a volume of biographical sketches of dis-
tinguished men from the various Conferences. “To
him was assigned Dr. Robert W. Kennon, who died
at Tuscaloosa, and he produced a short but interest-
ing sketch of him. Dr. Sprague, who was preparing
his interesting annals of the Methodist Pulpit, drew on
him for sundry sketches, which he willingly gave. He
supplied the Quarterly with sketches of McKendree
and Capers, and sent valuable contributions to the
Home Circle.

He had now been for some years on the east side
of the Mississippi, but during the fall of 1860 he for
the first time made a visit to the remote frontier of
Texas, presiding over the Rio Grande as well as the
Texas and East Texas Conferences.
Fames Osgood Andrew. 433

This was next to the last visit he made to this great
and young State. Nearly twenty years before he had
first gone to this republic. At that time there was only
a little band of heroic men forming one small Con-
ference; now, there were three Conferences, two of
them quite large. At that time there had been few
appointments on the eastern side of the State and in
the larger cities; there were now stations and circuits
reaching from the Rio Grande to the Sabine, and from
the Gulf to the territories on the north. The work
was very hard, and successive droughts had made
this year one which was especially trying. He made
the trips by boat to Galveston and thence into the
interior, and then returned to Alabama.

On his way to California he was deeply impressed
with the religious destitution of Central America.
His heart was stirred within him as he saw the whole
land given to idolatry. The American population at
Panama proposed to support a missionary, and he re-
solved to send several men to Central America. Dr.
Jefferson Hamilton, whose health was feeble, con-
sented to go on a prospecting expedition. When he
reached the ground he reported in favor of sending at
least three missionaries, two for Bogota and one for
Panama. The Bishop entered heartly into these plans
and began to inquire very anxiously for the men.
The missionary treasury was empty, and the men :
difficult to find, and before the mission was established
the war was upon us. The move of the Southern
Methodist Church upon the Spanish American races
of America was deferred for nearly twenty years. He
was always inthe van in missionary movements. From
1817, when, as a young preacher in Wilmington, his

19
434 The Life and Letters of ~

heart burned within him as he read of the deeds of
the Missionaries in India and longed to be there, until
he died, there was no abatement in his fervor. Afri-
cans, Chinese, Hindostanese, South Americans, In-.-
dians, and negroes were each objects of his concern.
To find men, to get money, were with him only ques-
tions of time. He believed in God and the Church.
He believed that if it went forward God would pro-
vide the means for its progression. Others were not
so sanguine, and the eager heart of the Bishop was
sadly tried by the want of faith and of consecration.
“Fames Osgood Andrew. 435

CHAPTER XII.
DURING THE WAR.

1861-1866,

His Political Views.—Letters to his Son.—Letter from General T. R. R.
Cobb.—Tour of 1861.—Visit to Jimmie in Camp.—Last Visits to
Henrietta.—Her Death.—Letters from Merriwether and Reply.—
Life in Summerfield during the War.—Merriwether’s House Sacked.
Annie's Account.—Letter to Merriwether.—Peace,

HILE he was engaged in this hearty work for

the Church the country was in a storm of
angriest political commotion. He had little use for
agitators, North or South, in Church or State. He
was a moderate, conservative man. He looked at
everything from a practical standpoint ; rode no hob-
bies, and was ruled by none. He was neither an anti-
slavery man nor an abolitionist. He believed that
the evils of slavery—and he saw them and denounced
them—were more easily managed than the evils of un-
restricted freedom to a race as ignorant and degraded
as the negroes were. No manever had a truer love for
the negro race. No man ever evinced more personal
interest for their good, but he believed immediate
abolition to be unwise and impracticable. But while
this was true, he had none of the advanced views of
the more extreme Southerners. The negro was to
him a man and a brother; to help him every way was
436 The Life and Letters of

the duty of the stronger race. He abhorred, politi-
cally, a fire-eater or a secessionist. He was an old-
time Whig of the Webster school, and probably voted
for John Bell and Edward Everett in the election of
1860. He did not believe the South desired disunion ;1
he did not believe the North was disposed to force
abolition upon the country.

Nor was he alarmed at the noise the politicians
made. He had heard it thunder before, he said,
and as the cloud had passed away with no serious re-
sults in days gone by, he thought it would again.

But the war came, and the quiet, peace-loving old
Bishop found the land invaded. He was a Union
man no longer. He believed in the justice of the
Confederate cause, and gave it, as far as he could,
legitimate encouragement.

These were trying times in Church and State, and
he felt the need of constantly keeping before the -
people the great duty of personal religion. The only
freedom he urged upon them was freedom from sin.

In April he wrote to his son: ‘‘ Truly, we live in
troublous times. God knows what will be the issue,
but the Lord Jehovah reigns. This is my comfort;
we have been a wicked people North and South, and
possibly God intends to scourge us and humble us till
we acknowledge that God reigns in heaven and
among the children of men. I write with rather a
trembling hand, and you must put up with a short
letter. If ever there was a time when it behooved us
to watch and pray, this is the time. Very likely the
devil will make us believe that zeal for our country is
quite sufficient to justify our neglect 'of God. Oh, let
us keep our*hearts with all diligence. God bless you,
Fames Osgood Andrew. 437

my son, and may you so act as to be the light and
comfort of my last days.”

“‘ Confederate flags,” he says again, ‘‘are flying
everywhere ; may God have mercy on us, and save
us from war and bloodshed.”

“ Great talk,” he says, in May, “of Lincoln and the
war, which, by the way, bids fair to be a pretty seri-
ous business, a bloody and protracted struggle, the
end and the cost of which no man can foresee. The
words of the men of Gotham are exceedingly bitter,
and give evidence of deadly hate and devilish malig-
nity. I wish most earnestly that our Southern people
would carefully avoid any approach to their spirit and
language.” :

I doubt whether he entered into the war excite-
ment with any heartiness. He did not protest against
his son volunteering, but he was unwilling for him to
go into the army for the whole war, and regretted
that Rush became a captain instead of a chaplain.

Jimmie entered the army as a member of Captain
Lamar’s company, in the legion of General Thomas
R. R. Cobb. Over thirty years before, while he was
pastor in Athens, he had known Howell and Thomas
as boys. Now Thomas commanded the legion in
which his boy was, and he wrote to the General to
have an eye to him. General Cobb wrote him as fol-
lows:

‘RICHMOND, August 21, 1861.
“ REV. BISHOP ANDREW:
“« Reverend and Dear Sir—I assure you that your
kind letter has been a source of comfort and pleasure
to me. You did know me.as a boy, and I have
438 The Life and Letters of

known and revered you ever since I was a boy. I
do thank God that I have your prayers. Had I met
you I would have asked for them.

‘“Mrs. Toombs: told me that your boy was in my
command, and I had determined to hunt him up. I
will certainly comply to the letter with your request
in his behalf. He could not be in a better company
than Lamar’s. I do not know that I ever saw a more
orderly and quiet set of young men anywhere. Iam
glad to speak proudly of all my men. I have heard
an oath but oxce since I have had them in camp, and
have heard of only one drunken man.

‘*My dear sir, most heartily do I sympathize in
your thankfulness for the great fact that our people,
our whole people, are looking to God as our refuge
and strength. I confess to you that I gather strength
and hope and faith, when I see not only God's provi-
dences toward us, but also the willing acknowledg-
ments of our people.

**T beg you to continue your prayers for me and
my command, and that you may remember also at
God’s throne the loved ones we have all left at
home.

‘* Drop me a line occasionally which appropriately
could be read to the regiment. Your name will help
us, and I know your words will lead us onward in the
path of righteousness.

“Yours truly,
“THOS. R. R. COBB.”

It was now time to go on his conference round.
The country was in a ferment. Pastors left their
flocks to enter the army, as soldiers and as chaplains,
Fames Osgood Andrew. 439

Nothing was heard but war! war! The son, then in
the fullness of confidence, rejoicing over the victories
which had been won, had little fear of the dread fu-
ture. The Bishop’s first Conference was the Holston.
This was the only Conference in which there was
serious division of sentiment, and it met in the town
of Greenville, where Senator. Andrew Johnson had his
home. The Bishop, however, held the Conference to
its one work; he left to Cassar the things which were
Cezsar’s, while he attended directly to the things which
were God’s. The Rev. J. H. Brunner, who was Sec-
retary of the Conference says :

‘‘The Bishop’s presidency over the Conference at
Greenville at the opening of the war was good in
every way, but was marked with a tinge of sadness
uncommon to him. As Secretary of the Conference
I was brought into close relations with him. Going
to his room the morning after conference adjourned
to get his signature to the recorded minutes, he let
fall a few utterances that led me to think he saw far-
ther into the coming storm than most of his contem-
poraries. He was a great man, and as good as he
was great.”

Leaving Greenville he went to Emory and Henry.
College, and while resting a little while. with his
old friend Dr. Wiley, he wrote to Rush, then at
Memphis, and among other things said: ‘‘ How do
you get on as a soldier of Jesus Christ in the midst of
the excitements of camp life? Are you able to pos-
sess your soul in patience and in peace? Do.you use
the influence which your position gives you to do
440 The Life and Letters of

good to the souls of your own? Oh, let your charac-
ter as a Christian minister ever shine forth predomi-
nant.” He went from Emory and Henry to Rich-
mond, on his way to Norfolk. The capital of the
Southern Confederacy was thronged with soldiers.
Dogget was presiding elder, living in Richmond.
Jimmy Duncan, as the Bishop always called him, was
editing the Advocate and preaching to immense
crowds at Broad Street; Bennett, Rosser, Lee, and
others were in the other city churches, and with these
brethren he held sweet counsel for a few days. He
then went to Yorktown to see Jimmy in his camp,
and thence to Norfolk, where he presided over the
Conference, after which he hastened home to Ala-
bama.

The change in everything made it necessary, he
thought, that he should leave Summerfield.and settle
on a plantation, which he called, strangely enough for
these times, ‘Tranquilla.”’” On his return to Ala-
bama he stopped a few days in Newton to see his
dear Hennie. She had been ill a long time, and was
still quite feeble. When he bade her good-by she
clung tenderly around his neck, but he did not then
think it was her last fond embrace. Yet he was
anxious about her, and on January 23d he wrote to
Thomas :

‘¢ TRANQUILLA, January 23, 1862.
“DEAR THOMAS:

“Among the many strange discoveries recently
made, one of the most surprising is that you had ac-
tually written me a letter some time since, for which
Tam still your debtor, and as I don’t like to be in debt,
Fames Osgood Andrew. 441

I have concluded to sit down this gloomy morning
and pay off that score at least.

“‘Well, how are you all these rainy times, and es-
pecially how is my precious Henrietta? I got Sallie’s
letter a day or two since, and was glad to hear she
was slowly improving. I feel very anxious about her.
Do, some of you, write me every day or two, and if
she gets worse write me instantly, and I will, God
willing, be with you as soon as possible. I was glad
to know from Sallie’s letter that she was staid on the
Redeemer by living faith; that she was still able to
cast all her cares upon God, and to feel a fervent as-
surance that her precious Savior was with her and
would order all things in the very best way for her
and for all concerned. Oh, it is precious to feel that
our Redeemer lives, and lives to sympathize with and
comfort us in the midst of all of life’s trials and sor-
rows. Thank God our High Priest can be touched
with the feeling of our infirmities. He knows with
what sore temptations we meet, for He has felt the
same. For many years Henrietta has been endeavor-
ing to do the will of God, and now her heavenly
Father calls her to glorify Him by suffering. This is
a work more difficult than the other, and equally
important, if not more so. But when in these fires of
suffering, God will enable her to triumph. Thanks be
unto God, who giveth us the victory through our
Lord Jesus Christ, in calling her to pass through the
fire. God is testing you also, and trying you as gold,
and when I have seen your patient and affectionate
attentions to my precious child, I have felt that I have
loved you as my own dear son, and I have thanked
God for giving her such a husband. God bless you

19* 1
442. The Life and Letters of

abundantly. You and I know He is doing it and will
continue to do it. You and yours are never forgotten
in our approaches to the mercy seat.

‘“‘ Emily wrote to Hennie a day or two since. Hope
she has received it.

‘Well, here we are ona plantation. I have turned
planter, and if you don’t look sharp will beat you
‘cropping.’ We are very quiet, and the ‘old lady’
seems greatly to enjoy the tranquillity of the country.
Sne is fixing up things ever so nice, and as soon as
Hennie is able to travel you must bring her to visit
Emily and myself. Give our love to your mother
and Sallie, and much love and many kisses for the
children, and just as much love to dear Hennie as a
letter can carry. God bless you all.

“Your affectionate father,
“JaMES O. ANDREW.”

Only a few days after this letter was written he re-
ceived the following from his son-in-law. Hennie, his
bright, poetic, affectionate, pious daughter, had joined
the mother and sister beyond the waves:

. *ArRyY Mount, January 27, 1862.
‘‘ DEAR BISHOP :

‘‘ The long-dreaded blow has fallen at last, and I feel
crushed and ruined so far as this world is concerned.
My precious wife breathed her last this morning a
little after one o’clock, and oh, what a happy release
to her! She had been a great sufferer for the last three
months—indeed, I might say for the last four or five
years. I have just been handed your letter, but dear
Hennie is not here to receive your sympathy or kind
James Osgood Andrew. 443.

words of encouragement. She is where sickness and
sorrow never come. No more suffering now, no more
pain. But oh, Bishop, what a void is here! how des-
olate and dreary everything looks and feels! Pray
for me, especially that I may have grace and wisdom
to raise our children as I know she would have done
had she lived. How much they have lost in their
mother, and how I fear I shall fail in my duty to them !
‘She felt great anxiety about Henry, and just before
she died laid her hand on his head and said, ‘Oh, my
boy!’ I pray God that he may never forget the pres-
ence of that hand. Annie feels the death of her mother
very deeply, and I fear its effect upon her health, but
she bears up like the Christian I believe she is. This
morning before breakfast she came into my room, and
seeing me weeping said: ‘Don’t cry, papa; mother is
happy now, and if we live right we will go to her.’

““Oh, Bishop, I feel so desolate. When in the
house I was always with Hennie, and if she was not
in the room when I entered, my first question was to
ask where she was, and if not very particularly en-
gaged, she came ‘in and stayed with me. She was
my counselor and adviser—and how competent she
was to advise me. How shall I get along without her
restraining influence ? Oh, what a help she has been
to me, and how much I owe to her. Bishop, I knew
her well, and I can most conscientiously say that I
don’t believe there ever lived a more unselfish, pure-
minded woman. Iam confident she did not have an
enemy in the world. Hennie requested me, just be-
fore her death, to write and tell you that she thought
of you, and prayed for you to the last, and that she
loved Cousin Emily dearly.
444 The Life and Letters of

‘‘Bishop, no father ever had a more affectionate,
reverential daughter than you had in Hennie, and I
know you will feel her loss greatly. She expected
you to write her obituary, and told me to ask you not
to say much about her, for she felt that she was not
worthy of much. As to her spiritual condition, I
know that all was well. She said that while she did
not feel that ecstacy which she had sometimes experi-
enced, yet her confidence in God was unshaken. She
did not, through her whole sickness, express a doubt
as to her acceptance with God or her preparation for
the great change. I never saw so uncomplaining,
patient a sufferer. I did not hear a single murmur
escape her lips, and I was with her nearly all the
time. It is a great gratification to me to know that I
stayed so much with her during her sickness, and to
the best of my ability tried to alleviate her suffering,
and I shall always cherish with pleasure her loving
words of gratitude. I rarely did the most trivial
thing for her without receiving sweetest thanks for it.

‘‘But, dear Bishop, I feel incompetent to write
more. I have wished so much this morning that you
were here, that I might pour out my whole heart to
you. I need your advice so much.

“‘ Give a great deal of love to Cousin Emily.

‘We expect to bury Hennie to-morrow morning
in Oxford. Luther Smith will preach her funeral
sermon.

‘“‘ Yours most affectionately,
“TT, M. MERRIWETHER.”
-Fames Osgood Andrew. 445

REPLY.
“January 31, 1862.
““My DEAR THOMAS:

“Your letter, bringing the sad tidings of your great
loss and mine, reached me on yesterday morning.
Need I say it took me by surprise. Although I knew
that my precious child was very feeble, yet she had
been so long in delicate health that I thought she
would probably linger for some time yet, and I in-
tended very shortly to have again written her. Oh,
if I had thought, when she so fondly clung around my
neck and kissed'me as I bade her farewell, that I was
gazing on her sweet face for the last time, I would have
lingered about her habitation till the struggle was over.
But I shall ‘never hear that gentle voice again till I
hear it among the angels around the throne of God.

“From my soul I sympathize with you and with
those precious children, who are thus early deprived
of a mother’s love and care. TZhat, I have no doubt,
will be supplied, as far as possible, by your excellent
mother; but oh, who can fill the void in your heart
and in your domestic relations ? You have not only
lost a devoted wife, but a wise and gentle counselor,
whose influence over you was always for good. I
have often thought what a blessing it was for you
that you had just such a wife. Well, God has done
it, and He will give you grace to meet your increased
responsibilities. Only look to Him for the grace ne-
cessary, and cast your all upon Him who hath said
that He careth for you. Oh, that this severe stroke
may be sanctified to the increased consecration of all
our hearts to His service and glory. Oh, how my
heart yearns over you all, especially dear little Annie.
446 The Life and Letters of.

May the Good Shepherd have her in His special care.
I know how deeply dear Hennie felt for Henry. I
hope he will never forget her dying charge and her
earnest prayers for him, and may he live to honor the
memory of his mother. And my precious little Hen-
nie, too young to know the greatness of her loss.
God take the dear little lamb into His own care!
Your mother, I know, feels the loss as keenly as any
of you, but to her there is this satisfaction, that it
cannot, in the course of nature, be long before she will
meet the loved and lost in the land of eternal rest.

‘©All you say of my precious child as a daughter is
strictly true. Never did a father have a more obedient,
devoted child. I don’t remember that she ever gave
me pain by an act of disobedience since she was a very
small child, but her every act and word showed that
she reverenced, honored, and loved her father with
her heart’s deep devotion, and her love met a full
response from me. I loved and admired her greatly,
and I had hoped to enjoy many more hours of sweet
communion before either of us was called across the
dark river. But God has ordered it otherwise, and no
doubt it is all right. Well, it cannot be long before
we will meet again.

“‘ Yesterday was a sad day, and last night—oh, how
gloomy! But I have endeavored to call upon God
and trust him, and my soul feels this morning a sweet,
calm assurance that God is in it all. I have been
thinking of the meeting of our departed loved ones.
No doubt, her precious mother was the first to greet
her on her arrival, and her sisters—the dear children
whom God gathered home years ago. No doubt,
they all welcomed her to the joyful home of the Re-
“Yames Osgood Andrew. 447

deemer, where they shall never again hear of war, or
sin, or death. Oh, may we all join them there when
our pilgrimage is ended.

“Emily wrote to you and Sallie yesterday. Give
our love to all, white and black. God bless you.”

He visited the desolate home at Airy Mount, and,
taking with him ‘his two little granddaughters, re-
turned to Tranquilla. He was watching the progress
of the war with some anxiety, for if Mobile fell the
whole section in which he lived would fall into the
hands of the Federals. There had been quite a re-
verse on the coast, and he writes to Merriwether to
come for them, lest he should be cut off; but the ene-
my did not at that time reach the centre of Alabama.

He was trying to carry on his farm, but a terrible
drought was burning up the fields; Rush had been
captured at Island Number Ten; Jimmie was in
Maryland. He was tried on all sides. He came
over, however, to camp-meeting in Newton, after
which he returned to Tranquilla. The tidings of
bloody battles in Maryland came. Jimmie’s regiment
had been engaged, and was terribly cut up. His
command belonged to the immortal corps which held
the passes of the Cumberland Mountains. They had
fought a fierce fight, and he fell wounded and was cap-
tured. His father heard nothing from him for a long
time, and the dear old man was making ready to go
and search for the boy, and so wrote to Merriwether.

‘© TRANQUILLA, October 21, 1862.
““My DEAR THOMAS:
‘““A few days since Emily received Sarah’s very
welcome letter. We thank God for Henry’s con-
448 The Life and Letters of

tinued improvement, although ‘tis slow, which of
course might be expected. We hope and devoutly
pray that the God who has begun the cure will be
graciously pleased to complete it, and he will in the
meanwhile sanctify the sore affliction through which
he has passed to the good of his undying spirit. Oh,
may he never forget the obligations he is under to a
gracious God for snatching him, as it were, from the
very jaws of death; and when he shall be restored
may he show his love and gratitude to his Savior by
a life of consecration to His service. I want you to
tell Anderson and Cynthia’ that I sympathize with
them in-the loss of their child. J know they will feel
it deeply, but they must trust in God. He will do all
things right. God bless them both. I have thus far
looked in vain for tidings from my poor boy. I can’t
help feeling a good deal of anxiety. JI would go to
him, would have been before now, but don’t know
where to find him. However, if I hear nothing short-
ly, I shall be obliged to go on and try to look him up.
I think if he were able he would certainly have writ-
ten, either he or Hardy, even if they are prisoners ;
they might occasionally find some conveyance for a
letter by flag of truce. But I have from the begin-
ning tried to commend him to God, and must do so
still, calmly and strictly. Ina short time I must start
to the Mississippi Conference. I think I may safely
venture, unless something new shall take place in
Mississippi. If I go I shall go from here to Dem-
opolis, from there to Meridian.

“‘ Have only some twenty miles of staging to do be-

 

1 Colored people.
Fames Osgood Andrew. 449

tween here and there, and thence by rail to Jackson
and Grenada or Holly Springs. Such is my present
purpose, but none can tell what a day may bring
forth.”

**October 24th.
+“ This morning received your very welcome letter.
The news from Jimmie is cheering and will enable me
to leave home with more pleasure than I could other-
wise have done.
“My wife joins me in love to you all. God bless

you.
““ A ffectionately,

“(JAMES O. ANDREW.”

Ere he mailed the letter he heard from Merriwether
—Jimmie was captured not killed. The incident of
his capture he has been kind enough to give us.

From JAMES O. ANDREW, Jr.

“About midday on September 14, 1862, while
Cobb’s brigade was lying at the village of Sandy
Hook, forming part of the force investing Harper’s
Ferry, we were ordered back to Crampton’s Gap,
eight miles to the rear, to hold the gap against a
column of Federals thrown forward to’ strike Lee’s
rear and save Harper’s Ferry. The march was rapid,
the weather hot, and when we reached the foot of the
mountain and halted to rest, rapid firing, two miles
ahead, made us understand the command, ‘ Forward !
double quick,’ which was immediately given. Away,
with beating hearts and panting breath dashed the
gallant brigade without pause through those two miles
of steep turnpike till halted at the gap to unsling
450 The Life and Letters of

knapsacks; then deploying into a little clearing to the
right of the road, the regiment formed in line of bat-
tle, and as the handful of pickets retired before the
advancing foe, the command rang out, ‘ Forward!
double quick! charge!’ and Cobb’s legion, with the
wild yell of the Confederate troops, dashed down the
mountain-side like a torrent, and as it broke like a
mighty wave over a stone wall across the pike the
horse of the gallant Lamar fell under him, riddled with
balls. Just at that moment the glorious Colonel
stands at the head of the column, and as he waves his
sword the ‘charge’ rings out like a trumpet-call, and
the surging tide of gray hurls itself down into the rug-
ged forest against the line of blue, which reels,
staggers, and falls back. But what avails it? Two
lines of battle stay the retreat, and the three lines ad-
vance with murderous fire. At the same time a
column of Federals advance up the pike at a double
quick, and striking the Twenty-fourth Georgia ere it
can form, scatters it, and then turning about pours its
deadly fire upon the rear of the two regiments which
stand between them and the three advancing lines of
battle, almost at pistol range. The work of death is
terrible. Lamar has fallen mortally wounded, Captain
Conyers disabled. Lieutenant Sims lies with his
face upturned and a bullet through his brain, and all
around me the dead and wounded are lying. But one
man is left standing near me, and as I miss the firing
and turn to look, I see the shattered remnant of the line
is falling back. Alas! the order has come too late.
Across their path of retreat stands a living wall of
blue, upon the muzzles of whose guns they are ad-
vancing to surrender or die. As I turn to follow the
Fames Osgood Andrew. 451

retreating line, a ball tears through my thigh and I
fall. Soon the firing ceases, and as the advancing
lines pass over us, I ask a man for water, for I am dy-
ing of thirst, and my own canteen has been torn open
by a ball. He stoops to give it, and as he does so,
tells me there is a surgeon just down the hill who will
stanch my wound if I can get to him. He points me
to where he is, and promises to look me up when the
line halts. I drag myself a hundred yards and find a
crowd of wounded collected about a small fire, and
the surgeon is busy. Ah! the sickening scenes of a
battle-field when the fighting is done. I gaze upon it
with too much pain to take in all its horrors. Every
thread of clothing upon me is saturated with perspira-
“tion. I have bled until it seems there can be little
blood left in me, and the chilliness of a September
night in the mountains has succeeded the burning
heat of the day. My wound is getting terribly sore. I
cannot bear the slightest movement of a muscle, yet
I shiver with cold till Iam shaken into the intensest
agony. I search eagerly among the passing soldiers
for my acquaintance of the battle-field, the man with a
canteen and heart.

“Ah! here he comes, and with him a comrade. He
recognizes me, and they both take me up tenderly and
lay me nearer the fire. Then, searching among the
dead lying so thickly around us, they bring a couple
of overcoats and a blanket and throw them over me.
I have eaten nothing since early morning, and am
weak and faint. They make me a can of strong cof-
fee—real coffee. If there was anything that reconciled
a man to being wounded and captured it was a cup of
veal coffee. Coffee and crackers—I have seen neither
452 The Life and Letters of

for a long time. My spirits rose as I drank the fra-
grant draught, and my two friends of the Third New
Jersey and myself, who an hour before had been shoot-
ing at each other with deadly intent, lay down together
upon the bloody ground beneath the peaceful stars
and chatted pleasantly, I with a heart full of gratitude,
and they with the generous magnanimity of brave and
noble natures that were full of tenderness for a fallen
foe. They slept beside me at length, a sleep of weari-
ness and peace. I didnot sleep, for I was aching with
cold, chilled to the bone. But their kindness kept
me alive. My prayers have followed them all these
years.

“« Such is, as briefly as I can state it, the story of our
regiment that day. Howell Cobb had almost carried
out his orders, which were to hold the gap if it cost
the last man he had. Three days afterward his glori-
ous old battalion went into the battle of Sharpsburg
with twenty-five men and one commissioned officer.
Out of my own company of forty-five men twelve were
killed on the field, five escaped, and all the rest were
wounded or captured.”

In November the Bishop came to Macon and pre-
sided over the Georgia Conference. Bishop Pierce
was with him until after the Sabbath, and relieved him
of much of the labor of making the appointments.
From Macon he went to the Florida Conference, which
met in Tallahassee. After this session was over he re-
turned to Tranquilla. Dr. Lovett had sent his whole
family of children to see their grandfather. The en-
joyment which the dear old man had in their com-
pany was very great, and his predictions of what they
would be was at least in one respect accurate. Willie,
Yames Osgood Andrew. : 453

he thought, would be a preacher, and so he is, sta-
tioned now at St. Paul’s church, Columbus.

The war was to him an accursed thing, and he turned
from its horrors to consider the delights of that heaven
to which he was going. Death held high carnival in
those days, and his sister Betsy had lost two fine boys.
He writes her in February, 1863:

‘© TRANQUILLA, February 5, 1863.
‘* My DEAR SISTER :

‘«Some days since I learned through my children
the sad tidings of the death of your son and daughter.
I know well how to sympathize with you, and how to
appreciate your loss, for, as you well know, I too
have buried six out of my nine children. Three of
them died in comparative childhood. The other three
were grown, and two of them mothers, which ren-
dered the death struggle more painful to them, and of
course more painful to me. I loved them with all the
warmth of a fond father’s heart, and had looked for-
ward to their comfort and support in my old age.
But it pleased God to order it otherwise, and although
I now can seldom restrain my tears at the remem-
brance of them, or when I hear their names called,
yet I bless God that there has been no rebellious mur-
murings from my lips or heart.

“Tt is well, for the Lord hath done it, and I know,
too, that it was done in love to me and my sainted
children, and I doubt not in heaven I shall praise
God for having taken them. I gave my children to
God in infancy, and every day since I have endeav-
ored to renew the dedication. My prayer to God has
constantly been that they might all be gathered to
454 : The Life and Letters of

-heaven at last. Should we not say from our hearts,
‘Good is the will of the Lord; the Lord gave, and
the Lerd hath taken away; blessed be the name of the
Lord’? |

““You, my sister, have been singularly favored.
God has permitted you to raise a large family of chil-
dren without losing one until lately. Now the Lord
is trying and testing your faith and confidence in His
goodness. He has taken three of your dear children
to Himself, for of their safety none can doubt who
-know their consistent Christian lives and their peace-
ful death. You were not permitted to watch by their
dying pillow and hear the last words of the depart-
ed as they lost sight of earth and entered the heav-
enly world, and this, possibly, may add to your
grief. But this, too, was ordered by a kind and
unerring Providence, who always knows and does
what is best for them that humbly and heartily trust
in Him.

“Your two sons were noble boys, and Géd loved
them and took them. And dear Matilda!—what a
crowning victory was her death! That she now rests
with God cannot be doubted. God bless and save
her children and husband. He has my sympathy in
his sad bereavement. Remember that whom the
Lord loveth He chasteneth. We all soon shall pass
away. Our children have only gone a little before
us. It will not be long before the chariot which bore
our children home will call for us. Oh! that we may
be ready when the Master calls.

‘« Give my love to your excellent husband and dear
children. The family is, with the exception of some
of the servants, tolerably well. God bless you.”
Fames Osgood Andrew, 455

During the larger part of this year he remained at
Tranquilla. He was still trying to manage a planta-
tion. The times were very dark and grew darker.
Drought had cut short the corn supply ; cotton could
not find any market; the army called imperatively
for a tenth of all that was made, and seizures were
made of cattle and provisions of all kinds in order to
feed the troops. The times were not favorable for
any travel, and no General Conference could meet.
The members, however, of the Mission Boards and of
the Book Committee, and the editors, met with the
Bishop during the year for consultation. In the fall
he attended the Mississippi Conference, and at Bishop
Paine’s request he visited him, and writes to Lovett
from the Bishop’s home.

‘* ABERDEEN, Miss., November 19, 1863.
‘© DEAR ROBERT :

“TY think Tama letter in your debt, but am not
certain. At any rate I will drop you a few lines. I
left home three weeks since, during which time I have
not heard a word from home. I have visited Enter-
prise, Meridian, Brandon, and Canton on my way to
the Mississippi Conference at Kosciusko. At the close
of that Conference I came to this place to assist Bishop
Paine at the Memphis Conference, which closed its
session on Tuesday last. Several of the brethren from
within the enemy’s lines attend the Conference. The
tales they tell of Yankee outrages are not calculated to
increase our love for our invaders, or to make us de-
sire to be reunited to them. You who live away down
there in the piney woods of Scriven know nothing of
the horrors of the war, nor can you too deeply sym-
456 The Life and Letters of

pathize with the unfortunate refugees who have fled
from Yankee outrage and oppression. The fairest
portions of the southwest have been laid waste and
desolated, and if peace should come to-morrow it
would be at least a quarter of a century before it can
be restored even to comparative prosperity. God be
merciful to us.

‘“‘The Alabama Conference meets in Columbus,
Miss., next Wednesday, and I expect to leave for
that place to-morrow. I shall probably reach home
the first week in December. Shall leave again in
about a week for the Florida Conference in Thomas-
ville, Ga. Some time during my trip I intend (D. V.)
to call and see you all, for I greatly desire to see
you.

“‘T hope you are all well and doing well temporally
and spiritually—more especially spiritually. Ah! what
is life after all our anxiety and labor. Much the largest
part of the crop we reap here is disappointment and
trouble, and too often the loss of the spiritual enjoy-
ment of God here, and not unfrequently the loss of
heaven. Oh! let us watch constantly and pray that
God may keep us and save us.

“‘ Write to me when you can.”

Returning, he presided over the Alabama Con-
ference at Columbus, Miss., and then the Florida,
which met in Thomasville, December 16th. I was
present at this Conference, and have a tender mem-
ory of the occasion. I had gone to Thomasville with
him especially to visit my sister, Mrs, Col. Young.
She was taken suddenly and alarmingly ill. All day
and all night she lingered at the grave’s mouth.
Fames Osgood Andrew. 457

About the dawn a servant came to call me to her
bedside. When I reached it I found her given over
by the physicians to die. She had been named for
his Amelia; he had baptized her. I sent at once to
the village for him. In less than an hour he was at
her bedside. With wonderful sweetness he talked to
her of the future, and then said: “‘ But perhaps, my
child, God will spare you; let us ask him,” and he fell
upon his knees. The prayer was simple, earnest, and
confiding. I went from the room to hide my emo-
tion, and in less than five minutes her husband came
to me, saying, “ She is safe.” The Bishop rode back and
was ready for the Conference session that morning.

His talks during this session were full of tenderness
and cheerfulness. Dressed in blue jeans, with a wool
hat on his head, he was rather an unbishoplike old
man in looks ; but he was a very prelate when he pre-
sided.

The days of 1864 were days of peculiar trial. The
public interests absorbed all thoughts. Conscription
had reached all homes. From sixteen to sixty the
men had gone to the field, The great provision-rais-
ing States were overrun, and the cotton country was
called upon to feed the armies and the people who
had hitherto fed them.

Victories were won at a cost which rendered other
victories impossible. Preachers were driven from
their pastoral charges to do anything to make bread.
Conferences were unable to meet. The Trans-Missis-
sippi could not be reached. Kentucky, West Vir-
ginia, Missouri and the Pacific were entirely cut off.

His family affairs were perplexing. Jimmie and
Thomas were in the army. His delicate wife was

20
458 The Life and Letters of

worn down by the anxiety which was eating out so
many hearts; but in the midst of all he was calm and
untroubled. His soul was stayed on God, and he
went on calmly in the way of duty. He presided over
the Mobile Conference in November, and over the
Montgomery in December.

During these days the Federal armies had been
moving nearer and nearer to the heart of Georgia,
and had captured Atlanta, and now Sherman began
his famous march to the sea. Merriwether was on the
march, and the Federal troops paid their raspects to
Airy Mount. Little Annie writes her grandfather of
this visit.

‘© ArryY Mount, January 9, 1865.
‘My DEAR GRANDPA:

‘“*T would have written before, but I did not think
that letters would go through; but as your letter
came to Aunt Sallie, I will now write, hoping it will
reach you safely, Uncle Jimmie and Aunt Sallie
have both written since the Yankees were here. She
Says don’t be uneasy about her clothing; she is not
suffering for clothes. Oh! Grandpa, the vile invader
has again entered our home, and what they left be-
fore they took this time. But we still have plenty of
bread to eat and a house to live in. I am thankful
for that, for many have not even that. They threat-
ened to burn our house, too, because they found our
Confederate flags. They did so much meanness, I
can’t begin to tell you half they did do. ‘Old Cath-
erine,’ Sam, Lizzie, Adeline and Ben, Mary Ann’s
child, went, at least ‘old Catherine’ made Ben go.
His mother was in Scriven.
Fames Osgood Andrew. 459

‘“« The Yankees took five horses from us this time,
and Oh! Grandpa, old Betsy, too. I could not help
crying when I found they had taken her. I loved her
because she was my darling mother’s horse.

‘“We heard from father not very long ago. He
was well, and expected to be home the last of this
week. We gota letter from Brother Henry on Sat-
urday. He was very well.

“« And, now, dear Grandpa, I come to the saddest
part of my letter. Aunt Sallie Lovett is dead. She
died in November of hemorrhage of the lungs. Now
poor Cousin Lou has all the charge of them children
and that little baby, too. Oh! Grandpa, do write her
along letter. It will do her so much good to get a
letter from you.

‘“‘Oh! Grandpa, please don’t take Aunt Sallie home.
We will be so lonely without her. She is so distressed
about Cousin Lou. Poor cousin! I feel so sorry for
her. She is so young to have such a heavy charge on
her hands. But God will take care of her. Uncle
Jimmie will start home soon, so don’t be uneasy about
him.

‘‘ All send love to all. The darkies send howdy.
Hennie sends a kiss to all, and one from your own
little

“‘ Granddaughter
‘* ANNIE.”

He wrote to Merriwether in February :

‘‘ SUMMERFIELD, February 2, 1865.
“My DEAR THOMAS:

‘‘T have been for some time desirous of writing to
you, but knew not where to address your letters. Jim-
460 The Life and Letters of

mie tells me that you are in Augusta, and I venture to
direct this letter there hoping that you will receive it.
I need not tell you how deeply I sympathize with you
in all your recent troubles. You have indeed been
called upon to pass through the fire. But yet I trust
you have not been consumed. You have lost much, but
still you have something left. Your house has not yet
been given to the flames, and you have bread and
milk anda little meat. Thousands have nothing left.
It was fortunate for you that you were not at home,
or you would have been captured, and probably have
been now starving in some Northern prison. Thank
God you are at least, up to this date, free.

“Your mother, Sallie, and the little girls must be
having a lonely time of it, but God be praised, they
are saved from personal violence. What are you go-
ing to do with your plantation this year? I suppose
you have a few hands left, and I understand you have
Andrew at home. I suppose you might make a crop
with him, but I can’t help feeling some anxiety about
you and your family, and my only comfort is to trust
you all to the gracious providence of a wise and merci-
ful God. You are in the army, and I fear you will
have some bloody fighting to do, and you may prob-
ably fall. If so, what arrangement have you made
about the little girls? I hope that Iam not asking
too much in this inquiry. Please write me all your
plans in perfect confidence. I may be able to help
you or yours in the future, and be assured if I can be
of any use to you, you can depend on me as far as my
ability goes. I greatly desired to visit you last sum-
mer, but the state of the country and the heavy ex-
penses of traveling at that time kept me from travel-

-
Fames Osgood Andrew. 461

ing. But it is my purpose, God willing, to make you
a visit this coming spring, but ‘man proposes and God
disposes.’

“‘T hope that all your losses and troubles have not
shaken your confidence in God, and that you live in
daily communion with him. Trust in him in all things
and at all times, and he will make all these troubles
work for your good. I hoped you would send the
little girls to us. We would gladly do all in our power
to make them comfortable. So far our quiet village
has been kept in peace. How much longer it may be
so God only knows. I fear there will be raids on us
as the spring advances. It really seems that it is
scarcely worth while to fly to any place to keep out of
the way of the inevitable Yankees. Perhaps the chance
would be to go where they have previously been, on
this principle, if I fly from Summerfield I shall go to
Newton, as they have been there. Jimmie came
home a few weeks ago, looking tolerably well. A
letter from Henry a few days ago says he is well.
J. W. Rush remains at Suggsville. Occie has pre-
sented him with another daughter. All were doing
well when he wrote. .

“My own health and Emily’s is uncommonly good,
thank God. We are trying to live for a world not
interrupted by wars. There is much talk about peace
and peace commissioners, but I have not much faith
in results, though God, I trust, will manage the mat-
ter for the ultimate good. In Him is all my trust,
Emily writes in affectionate remembrances to you.
God bless you, my dear Thomas, and guide and keep
and save you.”

The end was drawing near. The wonderful cam-
462 The Life and Letters of

paign of the Federal army in the early part of 1865
placed Federal soldiers almost everywhere.

They reached Selma, and Summerfield was only
eight miles away. There was a fear lest the Bishop’s
position would render him particularly obnoxious to
the army, and, while he had no fear himself, in order
to gratify his wife, he changed his place of abode and
went to a good local preacher not far away. Here he
stayed for a few days and then returned home to re-
main unmolested.

During all these stormy years he resided in Sum-
merfield. There was a delightful circle of Christian
friends, Colonel Baker, Dr. Mitchell, who had all his
lifetime been so dear to him, and now Dr. Rivers,
whom he had ordained when he was a young Bishop.
Dr. Rivers says:

“Bishop Andrew ordained me as an Elder in the
Church of God. He baptized my children. He was
always and ever a favorite of mine, but it was not
until the year 1861 that I became intimately associated
with him. Suffering greatly from a fractured limb,
and unable to do efficient work as a pastor, I had
taken charge of the Centenary College at Summer-
field, the village in which the Bishop resided. I was
on crutches. The Bishop was often at the college.
He was always welcome, for he was a true friend, a
wise counselor, and a sympathizing brother. Our
oldest daughter used to sing very sweetly, and her
hymns were a source of great pleasure to the Bishop.
He would often sit while she would sing ‘ Eternal
Home.’ The big tears would roll down his cheeks
and he would exhibit the deepest emotion.

‘« Whenever he went off on his preaching excursions
Fames Osgood Andrew. 463

to Conference his return was watched for with great
eagerness. The night after his return he was sure to be
greeted with a serenade from some pious and cultivated
ladies. These serenades were often closed with the
beautiful anthem -‘ Our Pastor,” which they changed
to ‘Our Bishop.’ His good wife used to say that the
Bishop was often made very happy under these songs.
The Bishop was a faithful attendant at our prayer-
meetings and enjoyed them greatly. During the last
year of the war we had prayer-meetings every after-
noon, and we always felt sure of the Bishop’s presence
if he were at home. We were very much like one
family in Summerfield, and with the simplicity of a
child he would often say, ‘ Now, Sallie, sing ‘‘ Eternal
Home.”’ This was a call on our oldest daughter,
to which she always responded, much to the gratifica-
tion of the dear old Bishop.”

At last the end came. The Confederate armies sur-
rendered. His children returned home ; they had all
been spared. The negroes were free; the country
was devastated; there was no money; the church
machinery was all deranged ; there were wild conjec-
tures as to the future, and especially the future of the
Southern Church. More than one heart sank into de-
spair of the country, and more than one prominent in
church circles gave up all hope of Southern Method-
ism, but the brave old Bishop held on his way. He
saw God in all. His religion was left; he was a little:
nearer Heaven than he had been before the war be-
gan, that was enough.

All mail communication was suspended. Railways
were torn up, and there was no money to repair them.
Episcopal visitation seemed almost impossible.
464 The Life and Letters of

The Trans- Mississippi had not had any Episcopal
supervision for years. Some one must go, and al-
though he was old and feeble, and moneyless, he con-
sented to make the journey. How he made it Brother
Rush tells. .

He reached the seat of the Texas Conference and
presided over it and over the East Texas.. During his
visit to the Texas Conference, of the amount raised for
stiperannuated preachers, widows, etc., the Conference
proposed to appropriate one hundred dollars to Bishop
Andrew; he refused to receive it. Penniless as he
was, he would not take a penny of that fund, but the
brave Texans were not willing to allow him to go out
empty handed, and raised a handsome purse for him,
which he did receive without hesitation. He did not
attempt to reach the Rio Grande Conference, but
made his way to Summerfield again.

During the winter he received a letter from W. T.
Smithson, inviting him to meet him in Baltimore,
where he was doing business as a banker. Bishop
Andrew was always fond of Baltimore; he had a
strong hold on the hearts of the Baltimore preachers.
His affection had not abated for his old friends. There
were some of the preachers in 1844 who had been true
to him in the issue then, and he had never lost his
place in the hearts of many of the laymen. The action
of the General Conference of 1860, in introducing the
new chapter, had driven off quite a number of moder-
ate conservative middle men, as well as those whose
sympathies were more ardently Southern. These were
now in independent congregations, and he was most
kindly welcomed by them all.

The Methodist Episcopal Church had very kindly
Fames Osgood Andrew. 465

paid some large drafts for the Church South in favor
of the China Mission, and these drafts were still un-
provided for. It was needful that Bishop Andrew
should have an interview with Dr. Carlton, Treasurer
of the Missionary Society. The doctor came on to
Baltimore, and the interview was full, free, and affec-
tionate. Dr. Carlton was one of the most moderate
of men, and was very anxious for a reunion, immedi-
ate and complete, of the two churches. He expressed
himself very generously, and Bishop Andrew seems,
from a letter from Dr. Whedon to the Bishop, to
have led him to believe that he was not averse to such
aresult. Perhaps this was true. Perhaps, however,
Dr. Carlton mistook the earnest desire of Bishop An-
drew for fraternity for a desire for an organic union.
It is certain Dr. Whedon wrote a long, full letter to
the Bishop, suggesting a way by which it could be
brought about. The letter is courteous and even
affectionate. After a delightful visit to the East he
returned home by the middle of March.

The General Conference, after eight years of inter-
mission, was to meet in New Orleans in April. There
was great perplexity as to what was best to be done.
The missionary treasury was empty, and a large debt
hung over it. The property of the publishing house
could not have been sold for the amount of its liabili-
ties. The Methodist Episcopal Church, with a large
body of its most gifted men, and with not a few who
had gone from the ranks of the Methodist Episcopal
Church South, was seeking to disintegrate and absorb
the Southern Church. The colored people had gone
away from the Church almost ez masse, some to the
Methodist Episcopal Church and some to the two

20*
466 The Life and Letters of

African Churches. The regular class-meeting had
been suspended by the absence of the teachers, and
there seemed to be little hope of re-establishing it.
There was in the ministry almost an insane demand
for changes in economy. Men seemed to think the
remedy for present ills or future dangers was to be
found in the church.

The laymen were to be brought in. The pastoral
term extended indefinitely. The name of the church
changed, class-meeting was not longer to be obliga-
tory, Mr. Wesley’s Sunday service was to be brought
into general use, etc. The Conference met in April.
The Bishop wrote the address—the last he ever wrote.
He and his colleague recognized the need of change
in some things, but they recommended great caution
and urged the delegates to do all they did in love,
and give all due credit to those who differed with
them. During the session he rose before his brethren
and asked them to give him a retired relation, and to
assign no regular work. He felt he was not able to
do it efficiently, and he would attempt it no longer.
No one had breathed the wish that he should retire.
No one had expréssed the slightest distrust. It was
of his own will. The grandeur of his service was now
fitly crowned by the grandeur with which he laid
down his office. Perhaps the saddest sight in the
world is a grand old man who has lived too long;
who cannot do the work he wishes to do, and who
will not, does not, know it. Perhaps one of the most
offensive sights in the world is to see the disposition
of selfish young men to elbow the man with gray
head, feeble in body but still strong in mind, from the
work he still does well; and perhaps the most un-
Fames Osgood Andrew. 467

grateful and despicable thing in the world, is fora
church that is established, built up, made all that it is
by the labors of the now old men, to be unwilling to
have their services, and to eject them from the pul-
pits, that they may place young and more attractive,
though by no means more useful, men in them; but
one of the grandest sights in the world was one like
that seen in New Orleans in 1866, and continued for
five years afterward. A voluntary surrender of his
place as leader, and a cheerful, patient, gentle, untir-
ing service anywhere as God should give him strength
to labor.

What a half century for retrospect! The boy, un-
lettered, timid, home-loving, going out at God’s com-
mand, he knew not whither, with only a father’s bless-
ing anda mother’s prayer. The struggle onward for
these fifty-three years through all the gradations from
the lowliest place to the highest one. He had endured
much and suffered much; and now, at the end, his
escutcheon had not a blot upon it.

He was near the end and there was nothing in the
past.to deplore, nor in the future to fear. His life for
nearly seventy years had been hid with Christ in God,
and for nearly sixty consecrated to God’s service in the
ministry. He could now well rest under the fig-trees, an
Israelite indeed in whom there was no guile. At this
General Conference W. M. Wightman, David S. Dog-
gett, Enoch M. Marvin, H. N. McTyiere, were elected
bishops.

These new colleagues were all gladly welcomed by
him and inducted into the place he was about to va-
cate. The father of Bishop McTyiere had lived in the
boundary of his first circuit, and he had presided at
468 The Life and Letters of

the Conference in which the son was admitted to the
traveling connection. Bishop Marvin he had first met,
a gifted but uncultivated boy, in the west of Missouri,
and for him an attachment was formed which grew
with every succeeding year. But toward none of
them was the relation so tender as it had been toward
W. M. Wightman. When he was a little child he was
his mother’s pastor; when he was a bright, thought-
ful schoolboy, he had him in his charge, and at a
camp-meeting near Charleston he had received him
into the Church.

From those days till now he had marked his steady
progress, and with a glad eye seen how his boy had
moved to the front. As a circuit preacher, a preacher
on a station, a presiding elder, an editor, a professor,
a college president, the chancellor of a university, he
had filled his station well, and now he was elected
to the highest office the Church could give. The old
Bishop walked down the aisle of the church, and draw-
ing near him silently threw his arms around him and
pressed him to his heart. Bishop Wightman said few
things in his life ever touched him so deeply as this
embace of the dear old Bishop.

He preached a memorial sermon of his old friend,
and says of this scene :

«‘At the General Conference of 1866, in New Or-
leans, being senior Bishop by the death of Joshua
Soule, he presented the address of the bishops, but
was too feeble to discharge the duties of a presiding
officer. Before the adjournment, in a brief address
replete with profound and affectionate feeling, he re-
quested to be relieved of the active duties of his office
and placed on the retired list. This was accordingly
Fames Osgood Andrew. 469

done, and the following resolutions were adopted by
a unanimous rising vote:

“© Resolved, That the General Conference has heard
with profound emotion, the request made by our
honored and beloved friend, Bishop Andrew, that he
be allowed, on account of advanced years and grow-
ing infirmities, to retire from the responsibilities con-
nected with an active participation in the Episcopal
administration. While the Genera] Conference cannot
be indifferent to the important considerations, and
cannot but approve of the high and delicate motives
which prompt this course, at the same time the repre-
sentatives of the Annual Conferences of the Methodist
Episcopal Church South cannot allow the occasion
to pass without expressing, as they now take pleasure
in doing, the respect and affection universally felt for
the venerable Bishop; the honor in which his past
services are held, and the lustre which his spotless
character has shed on Southern Methodism. They
devoutly pray that the evening of his life may be
serene—full of the consolations of that gospel he has
preached for more than a half century—bright with
the unspeakable hope of eternal life through Jesus
Christ.

“«* Resolved, furthermore, That Bishop Andrew be,
and he is hereby released, according to his request,
from active participation in the responsibilities of the
Episcopal office. At the same time the General Con-
ference beg that he will, as far as his health and cir-
cumstances allow, give to his colleagues and the
Church at large the benefits of his experience and
counsels and highly appreciated visits to the Annual
Conferences.’

\
470 The Life and Letters of

“One can but faintly imagine the swell of feeling in
the soul of this good and great man, on an occasion
which, with so much moral grandeur, closed the
active labors of a long public life. Through more
than fifty years he had ‘served his generation by the
will of God;’ and now, without slip or stumble, he
was approaching the goal and coming near the end
of the course. The pronounced ‘ Well done, good
and faithful servant,’ which carried to his heart the
-assurance of the affectionate respect of the assembled
representatives of the largest Christian communion
of the South—might it not awaken the anticipation—
ah! how entrancing—of that other ‘Well done, good
and faithful servant,’ to be spoken ere long by the
lips of the glorified Saviour, to whose service he had
given his whole heart and life, without sting, from
boyhood ?”’

He remained at New Orleans till the close of the
Conference, and returned home to Summerfield. He
needed rest, and gladly entered into it. He had acted
wisely. During the summer he visited his grand-
children in Newton, and writes Rush in September:

‘* SUMMERFIELD, July 3, 1866,
‘* DEAR WESLEY :

“I received your welcome letter some time ago,
and should have replied before now, but was in bad
health for the first four or five weeks after my return.
I have only attempted to preach once or twice since
my return home, though thanks be to God I am now
better, and begin to feel like myself again. I bore
my trip through Texas and Louisiana much better
than I feared. Kept up pretty cleverly until I reached
Fames Osgood Andrew. 471

home, when I immediately collapsed and lost all
strength, and, without being very ill, was of no ac-
count, and lay about the house fit only to be nursed.
Well, God was very gracious to me in that I was not
stricken while among strangers, but was permitted to
reach my quiet home to receive the attention of my
excellent wife. We are-now all up. I have said
enough to excuse my not meeting you or writing to
you. I-hope to be able to visit your work after the
General Conference, God willing.. Well, how are you
all? I should greatly rejoice to hear from some of
you. Do write to me soon. ‘You must be sure to
bring Occie up to see us when the summer comes, or
sooner if possible. I hope you are all well and pretty
comfortably fixed in your Suggsville home, and that
the pleasure of the Lord is prospering in your heart.
Oh’! that he may pour out the Holy Spirit in abundant
showers on you and your people. We have had ‘for
some ten days past a comfortable state of feeling in
the Church. Within the last week perhaps some
twenty ‘conversions. Oh! that the work may go on
and increase in interest. The small-pox is raging
fearfully in Selma and its vicinity, and we are under
considerable apprehension here, though as yet none
of our citizens have died, though some two or three
straggling negroes have died within the limits of the
town. Alas! what will become of the poor negroes
with no homes and no one to care for them?”

Dr. Rivers says:

‘‘T must narrate one more incident of this best of |
men. I was compelled by solemn duty, which I owed
an aged mother, to leave Summerfield at the close of
the war.
472 The Life and Letters of

“T spent the last night in the hospitable village in
the family of Colonel Thomas Baker. He was a close
neighbor of Bishop Andrew. In the evening I went
over to bid a sad adieu to my venerable friend. He
said, ‘I will see you in the morning.’ I told him I
had to leave at 3 A.M., in order to meet the train at
Selma on the next morning. About fifteen minutes
before three o’clock the Bishop came over to hold
prayer with us. Oh, that prayer! It was the last I
ever heard from his hallowed lips. He had left his
own warm bed and comfortable room to bid us all
good-by, to bestow upon us his blessing, and to offer to
the Father one more prayer for me and mine. It was
the most touching evidence of affection that J had ever
received, even from him. I can never forget that
prayer, offered by one that was nearer to the blessed
Master than any one I ever knew.”

Mr. Rush, who knew much of his last days, gives
an account of them, which we have been compelled
somewhat to anticipate, but which the reader has in
full.

“The spirit of the Hélittes that marked the closing
months of 1860 and the opening months of 1861
deeply distressed this good man’s heart. He had ac-
cepted as true Mr. Webster’s views of the Constitu-
tion and powers of the United States Government,
and hence believed that, except as a last resort, seces-
sion was not the way for one State or many to seek
redress from wrongs, real or imaginary, which grew
out of their relations to the general Government or to
the other States. He feared that secession would in-
evitably bring war, and war was deprecated as the
greatest calamity that could befall the country or
Fames Osgood Andrew. 473

either section of it. The prospect of a deluge of
blood, of widowhood, of orphanage, and of the de-
moralization that comes from such a state of things,
grieved him beyond expression. And besides, what
would become of the Church amid such scenes of
strife and bitterness? Would the preachers forget
their high vocation? Would the Church, as such,
take up the sword? ‘Would the gospel by any means
be made of more effect ?

‘‘In December, 1860, he presided over the Alabama
Conference in Montgomery, Bishop Soule also being
present. The politicians, wishing to mould and fix
public sentiment, sought the aid of the Conference,
entreating some of the leading members to have reso-
lutions on the state of the country passed which would
cover their points. The fact was communicated to the
two bishops, who, after a short consultation, planted
themselves firmly, side by side, on the clear open
ground of a non-political church, and determined,
should the resolutions be introduced, to rule them out
of order and refuse to let them come to a vote.

‘““ When the State, however, did secede, like all true
men of his political convictions he acquiesced in the
action, and without hesitation gave allegiance to the
newly formed government. When hostilities began,
in sermons, in newspaper articles, and in private con-
versations he did what he could to cheer and comfort
the people at home; encouraged preachers to go as
missionaries to the army, and visited in person the
soldiers in camps, preaching to them as opportunity
was given. And when the struggle finally closed, al-
though the termination brought sorrow and mourning
to his soul for the loss of the cause, and he clearly saw
474 Lhe Life and Letters of

that it also brought new and grave and perplexing
problems of government and society and industry to
the South, with which the people were poorly pre-
pared to grapple, yet the fact that the dreadful car-
nage had ceased, and the horrible carnival of death
had ended, brought positive relief to his suffering mind.
During this period in 1862 and 1863 he lived ona
plantation he had bought eight miles west of Selma.
This place was called ‘Tranquilla.’ Like almost every
other man he thought he.could make a living by farm-
ing, and went there for this purpose. But a poorer
farmer never put foot in a field. The mental consti-
tution and moral principles of the negro require a kind
of authority in the management of such business
which it was simply impossible for Bishop Andrew to
exert. Itis told in his family that once he did slap
the jaws of a dining-room boy about sixteen years old,
and that when the boy told the other servants about
it they could not believe a story so strange; and that
on another occasion he made another sixteen-year-old
fellow stand on a stump in the yard, so that the rest
of the negroes could see and laugh athim. These two
cases make the sum total of his harsh discipline over
servants. It soon appeared to Colonel Woolsey, Mrs,
Andrew’s son, who lived near by, that things would
be ruined if the Bishop did not go back to Summer-
field—which he very cheerfully did, turning the man-
agement over to the Colonel. It was while living at
Tranqufila that he fell, for the first time, by a stroke
of vertigo (or it may have been a slight attack of par-
alysis), which followed him thenceforward to the end
of life.

“‘T have heard him say more than once that up to
Fames Osgood Andrew. 475

the time of his holding his first round of Annual Con-
ferences, excepting occasional spells of sickness, he
had been a perfectly healthy man; could endure any
reasonable amount of exposure without harm, work
as he pleased, eat what he liked, and sleep all night
without waking. But that after the close of that first
round he had never passed a night of uninterrupted
sleep, nor seldom gone more than a fortnight in un-
interrupted health. “The trouble this care brought
upon him was of the bowels. It became chronic, and
for more than thirty-five years he was never without
a supply of astringent medicines. It often enfeebled,
sometimes prostrated him, especially after a Confer-
ence. But by rest and quiet and the use of remedies
he soon regained himself and rapidly became robust.
At this period of life his health was constantly alter-
nating between robustness and feebleness. The time
of greatest danger was the time of greatest apparent
strength, on account of the greater liability to vertigo.
The uncomplaining, unselfish manner in which he
spoke of his health, when allusion was made to it at
all, prevented the appreciation of his real condition by
any but his family and his physician.

‘‘ Approving the old English rule by which a judge
over seventy years of age was forbidden to preside in
the trial of causes, and believing that the duties of a
Methodist Bishop involved interests as grave and as
delicate as those of any civil office, requiring for their
proper management a head as calm and clear-as that
of the very wisest judge, he firmly held that as a
general thing it would be well for the church to adopt
this rule with reference to its chief officers. At any
rate, he was perfectly persuaded that the rule should
476. The Life and Letters of

apply to his own case. The inveterate old trouble,
the new phase of vertigo, and the decided decline of
the general vital forces experienced about this time,
left no doubt upon his own mind. These were his
reasons, his only reasons, for deciding to ask the next
General Conference to grant him a superannuated
relation. His zeal for God was as glowing as in the
days of his youth. His love of the work was as ardent
as when he was in the zenith of his pulpit fame. But
he conscientiously believed that the good of the church
demanded his discharge from the responsibilities of
the episcopal office, and he knew there were men who
could bear the burdens and discharge the duties of
that high office far better than himself at his age and
with his infirmities.

“‘In 1865 an incident occurred that well illustrates
some features of his character as a bishop and a
Christian. It was a trip to Texas—the preparation
for it, and its results. The prominent men of the
Conferences had written the Bishops that the agents of
the Northern Church had come down to disintegrate
and absorb their members, and that some few of their
own preachers were disposed to complain of what ap-
peared to them to be episcopal neglect, and that an
episcopal visitation was highly important. The lot
fell on Bishop Andrew. The whole journey had to
be made by public conveyance, with rates of travel
very high. But the Bishop had not a dollar, and no
way to make one. Yet he decided to go; had his
trunk packed, and, as was his custom under such cir-
cumstances, prayed to the Lord for the money and
waited for the answer. But the Lord did not send the
money as he had always done in such emergencies,
James Osgood Andrew. 477

Things stood thus for more than a week, until his
wife, who herself was a woman of great faith, began
to think the state of his mind was one of presumption
and not of faith. She wanted to unpack the trunk;
but no, he would not permit it. Things standing this
way a few days longer, he decided to start without the
money. So to Selma he went with his trunk all
packed and his pocket-book empty. He had been in
the city but a short time before a steamboat captain
invited him to take a trip to Mobile. In Mobile
another captain invited him to ride over to New
Orleans, and when in that city a friend paid his fare
up Red River. Thus the destination was reached by
the unsolicited aid of men who knew nothing of his
poverty or his plans. Friends in Texas showed their
appreciation of the visit by presenting him with a sum
sufficient to pay his way home and leave him quite a
handsome surplus. i.

‘“‘From the beginning to the close of his ministry,
life was marked by many such instances of honored
faith and obedience.

‘« The General Conference of 1866, at New Orleans,
granted the superannuated relation, but notwithstand-
ing he had asked the relation purely of his own
notion, after long and prayerful deliberation, and
knew perfectly well what it would be in all its out-
ward, visible aspects, still it was a very great afflic-
tion when he returned home and realized that he was
in actual retirement. It was not that the Conference
had assessed an insufficient support, for the allowance
was perfectly satisfactory. Neither was it the loss of
authority and control, for while he never shrank from
the responsibilities of his office, yet he never did love
478 The Life and Letters of

to exercise power over others, and from the very first
this power had been a mental burden and a bodily
distress. Nor was it that the new bishops would
henceforth receive more of the applause and attention
of the public than himself, for no man was freer from
such jealousy. For more than thirty years had cir-
cumstances beyond his control fixed upon him the
steady, scrutinizing gaze of the American churches, and
if his heart had ever taken delight in the praise of men,
it had long ago been sated even to nausea. Further-
more, he was greatly delighted with the election of the
new bishops, and no man looked forward with more
hope to their administration, or expected from it
greater and better results. But he did grieve, deeply
grieve, with that unselfish feeling which subdues the
heart of every true and faithful soldier, who, worn out
in the service, at last comes to the painful conscious-
ness that he can no longer respond to the bugle’s
battle-call.

‘‘In the summer of 1866 I found him in his study
one morning weeping, and inquired the cause. He
replied that in glancing over one of the Advocates he
had noticed the absence of his own name from the
plan of Episcopal appointments and that this was the
cause of his tears. That was all. He was not com-
plaining, but wept because his work for the Mas-
ter was well-nigh done—he had, in a measure, noth-
ing more to do—his strength had failed at a time
when the battle was fiercest, and when the greatest
prudence and skill in the management was needed
most.”

Except the letters I have had of Bishop Andrew’s,
which fell naturally in the line of the narrative, I have
Fames Osgood Andrew. 479

preferred to defer the publication of others to a
separate section of this chapter. He wrote very ex-
tensively, but the delay in preparing his biography
has forbidden the recovery of much of his corre-
spondence. The letters to Bishop Wightman and
Dr. Duncan would have been of very great interest,
but they are both gone, and the letters cannot be
found. Bishop Paine sends me quite a number
of letters, and Mrs. Cornwell, the daughter of Bishop
Soule, a few she had recovered from her father’s pa-
pers. Dr. Summers lost his in the fire, nor has
Bishop Pierce been able to recover any.

To Dr. JAMES MOOD.

‘¢ SUMMERFIELD, February 7, 1837.
“My DEAR JAMES:

“Your letter containing the expected but melan-
choly intelligence of the death of your beloved mother
has just been received. I need not tell you how deeply
I sympathize with you all, but more especially with
your beloved father. To you a// it is a heavy stroke,
but none can feel itas he does. To be thus bereft of
one who has been his faithful partner and aided him
in battling with the thorns of life, is the heaviest
earthly calamity that could have befallen him. I know
how to feel for him, having had a deep and bitter ex-
perience myself. But then our departed friends have
passed from life’s battle-field to the home of God.
No woman has more faithfully sustained life’s re-
_ sponsibilities as did your mother, and God has abun-
dantly crowned her with the honor that cometh from
God.
480 The Life and Letters of

“‘Billy requests me to write an obituary, which I
will cheerfully attempt. Will you tell me at what
time she embraced religion and connected herself with
the church, also as many particulars as you can re-
member of her experience in her last illness ?

“‘We are all, thank God, pretty well. Octavia is
with us and together send their love and the kind-
est expressions of sympathy to you all. May God
bless and comfort you all in this season of bereave-
ment.”

To GEORGE G. SMITH, Jr.

‘SUMMERFIELD, Ala., September 16, 1856.
“DEAR GEORGE:

“‘T received your letter a few days since, and was
glad to hear from you, and especially to hear that
you intended to enter the ministry. I am glad you
have not imitated Jonah. God, I doubt not, will make
you useful if you are faithful to the grace given. Look
well to your own personal experience of the things of
God; keep the vital flame alive in your own heart,
then you will be able to win others to Christ. As to
the question you propound,I should say as soon as
you are free from debt enter the work at once. You are
prepared by your early training to study to advan-
tage, and, if industrious on your circuit, you will very
soon know all you could have learned in college ; be-
sides, if you go to college, an increase of embarrass-
ment and debt may be the result—besides, life is short,
death at the door, therefore let us work while it is
day. May God direct you in all things, and bless you
abundantly, is the prayer of

‘Yours very affectionately.”
Fames Osgood Andrew. 481

To BISHOP PAINE.

‘¢ OxrorD, Ga., April 24, 1847.
“My DEAR BISHOP:

“T trust you are safe at home again after your
rough ride through Texas, and that you found all at
home well and happy. I have a few things which I
wish to talk about, and upon which I wish you to
think, and give me fully and freely your thoughts.
First, the China mission. You know the excitement
in the public mind on that subject for some time
past, and the frequent hints in our papers, designed
to quicken the tardy movements of the bishops. As
you will remember, there was nothing decisive done
at Petersburg. The matter was left by the bishops
without any special direction. When I met Bishop
Soule last fall, I proposed to him to take special charge
of that work, to which he consented. But he writes
me a few weeks since that he has been unable to find
a second man to accompany Taylor. That conse-
quently he has done nothing, and that on account of °
his growing infirmities, he must turn the whole mat-
ter over to his colleagues. I have seen Bishop Capers,
and he insists on turning the whole matter.over to
me. Now I have no anxiety for this additional bur-
den, still, in view of the importance of prompt and
vigorous action in the premises, if you concur in
opinion with Bishop Capers, I will endeavor to at-
tend to it, asking at the same time freely your views
in reference to the matter. Is it better to send Taylor
at once, with directions to examine the ground care-
fully in view of the best site for permanent location
of the mission, and then send him the needed rein-

21
482 The Life and Letters of

forcements? Or had we best wait until we can send
two? If you think the latter proposition is the best,
can you recommend to me a suitable man? Have
you considered the subject so as to give any opinion
in regard to the most favorable point in that empire
for the establishment of such a mission? The second
point about which I wish you to think and write is the
propriety of a meeting of the Bishops at Louisville
about the middle of September next, to consult to-
gether upon matters affecting the interests of the
Southern Church. I write at the suggestion of Bishop
Soule. Both the time and place will be very conven-
ient for yourself and Bishop Capers, though not for
me. What say you? Shall I announce such a meet-
ing? My health is not so good as I had hoped it
would be. I find I have but little strength for much
labor, and I fear it will be long before I recover from
the effect of last year’s attack. However, God is wise
and good, and what he does I know is right.”

To BISHOP PAINE.

‘SUMMERFIELD, ALA,, July 25, 1860.
““My DEAR BISHOP:

‘¢ Where are you and what are you doing? I wrote
to you some weeks ago and have been anxiously
waiting an answer, but up to this time I have not
heard from you. The same is the case in reference
to Bishops Pierce and Kavanaugh—not a word from
any of you. I wrote you that I wished to send mis-
sionaries to Central America, say one to Panama, two
to Bogota and its neighborhood, and one to Costa
Rica. Also, I wish to send one or two men to ope-
Fames Osgood Andrew. 483

rate somewhere on the Tehuantepec route. And I
wrote requesting you to afford me whatever help you
might be able in procuring suitable men to supply
this important field. Can you help me? I want at
once to send out at least three men. But where can
I get them? I dislike to call for volunteers through
the Church paper, but I reckon I shall have to do it.
Do help me if you can. We are here parched with
the drought, and gasping for weeks through a succes-
sion of the hottest days and nights which I ever re-
member to have encountered. The times are, in some
respects, gloomy enough. The corn crops are pretty
well burned, so that there cannot be, in any event,
bread enough made in the country; and the cotton
crop is more than half cut off, so that there won’t be the
means wherewith to purchase corn. This state of affairs
is gloomy, but the Lord reigns and all shall be well.
I think that this scourge will, in the end, be sanctified
to the spiritual profit of the people. We need these
visitations to remind us that God reigns in the heaven
above and in the earth beneath. For in our pros-
perity, if it be long continued, we are apt to forget
God and kick rebelliously against His government.
Oh! that the” people may learn righteousness while
God’s judgments are abroad in the earth.”

‘NEWTON, Ga., August 28, 1860,
‘““My DEAR BISHOP:

‘‘Yours came to me two or three days since. I
had left Summerfield for Georgia before it reached
there, and it was forwarded to me at this place. Our
pecuniary prospects for our missions are indeed ex-
tremely dark. The fearful drought of the past summer
484 The Life and Letters of

will, I fear, carry want to thousands of households,
and, in some instances, starvation. Yet the people
seem, generally at least, not to regard the hand of the
Lord displayed in this fearful judgment. I think it
will be necessary to retrench, yet I fear that thou-
sands of professing Christians will begin their curtail-
ment first in God’s portion. Retrenchment will begin
there and not with their fine equipages; furniture,
dress, jewelry, etc. God help us! I think I shall
postpone the appointment of missionaries to Central
America for a while. Possibly I may send one to
Panama, as they propose there to support their mis-
sionaries themselves.

‘Iam glad to hear that you have been for some
time past employed so happily and profitably. Would
that I could strike such a streak. I am at present
at my daughter’s in Georgia. Bishop Early writes
me that he thinks the Baltimore Conference will come
South. If so, he asks if it would not be right for the
Bishops to recognize them as other Southern Confer-
ences. I have answered in the affirmative, provided
they come freely of their own accord and are wil-
ling to submit to our laws and usages. Was that
right?” . ,

“Se_mA, ALA., September 8, 1862.

“My DEAR BROTHER:

‘‘ I was rejoiced to hear from Brother Lupton, whom
I met the other day, that he had seen you, and that
you were so greatly improved in health as to justify the
hope that you may be able to attend at least some of
the Conferences in your district. I have been arrang-
ing, in my mind, to assist you in the North Georgia
Fames Osgood Andrew. 485

Conference, if God permit. My dear brother, I have
deeply sympathized with you in all your afflictions,
and should have been greatly pleased to visit you, but
what with over-feebleness and other difficulties I have
been unable to do so. I did what I could in praying
for you and asking the congregations to do so.
Thousands of prayers ascended to heaven for you, and
I trust that God has heard them and will continue to
hear them, and that you will soon be able to resume
your work; but, by the way, don’t work too soon.
Remember that you must, for a while, work like an
invalid. I hope to see you during the approaching
winter; should you pass through the neighborhood
of Selma do stop to see me at my humble home. My
own health is not very stout, sometimes very feeble,
but I am-still able to do a little in the vineyard of the
Lord. Walking is, however, a task to me, likewise
standing, so that I am frequently obliged to talk to the
people sitting. However, I love the Church and her
glorious head, and while I live I mean to preach, as I
may be able, Jesus and his salvation. Ihave attended
during this summer seven district meetings, and found
them all to be seasons of great profit. I write these
lines with a trembling hand, and must close.

“Much love to your family, and may great grace

be with you all.
“R. PAINE,
‘* MARCH 21, 1882.

“NOTE.—At a time when I had just fairly begun to
convalesce after an attack of typhoid fever, in which
I was and have remained entirely oblivious of passing
events during a hundred days, this kind note was re-
ceived :
486 The Life and Letters of

To BISHOP PAINE.

‘“CoLuMBIANA, ALA., October 16, 1862,
“My DEAR BROTHER :

‘On my return home a few days since I received
your letter. I still think of trying to reach the Mem-
phis Conference, but think it rather doubtful. In ad-
dition to the uncertainty about encountering the Yan-
kees, I have intelligence that my only son was wounded
and taken prisoner in one of the battles in Maryland,
and of course I feel considerable anxiety about him,
and think it not unlikely that I shall go to look after
him. I shall do so unless I hear some satisfactory in-
telligence from him very soon. In such circumstances
as are now around me I must beg that you attend the
Conference for me; if not the Conference -must do
without a bishop.

“« Now for a few questions about matters and things.
Ought we not to hold a General Conference as soon as
practicable ? things are getting very much out of gear.
Now, if we hold a General Conference who shall com-
pose it—the delegates already elected, or new ones to
be chosen by the approaching Conferences? I had
thought those already elected, but I find others enter-
tain’a different opinion. Bishop Pierce thinks we had
better not hold a General Conference until 1866, but
get the Annual Conferences to authorize the bishops
to appoint all the editors and book agents—in fact all
the necessary officers which the General Conference.
has usually appointed. I don’t think this will do, for
various reasons. I think we should by all means have
a General Conference, even if not more than half the
Annual Conferences be represented in it. We can’t
Fames Osgood Andrew. 487

do things regular now; we can only make the best of
our circumstances and try to save the Church from
utter disorganization. I had heard of the sad fall of
the editor you refer to, as having fallen in the army,
but can’t say that I was much surprised. I have always
been rather afraid of him. But I was pained to hear
that.our friend had fallen likewise ; I hope that may
not be so. I fear the army is destined to be the grave
of many a preacher’s religion. God help the army
and the chaplains, many of whom, I fear, do more
harm than good.

‘‘ We have had some good revivals on this circuit,
and in a few other spots in this country. In Georgia
they have had some interesting meetings—some good
old-fashioned camp-meetings. Thank God for some
light in the midst of: surrounding darkness. Should
we have a general Conference, when and where ?
And who should call it together? Where is Bishop
Soule ? Have not heard from him in a great while.
I feel some apprehension for you, especially since the
late affairin Corinth. I don’t like the way our leaders
have managed in reference to matters on the Missis-
sippi. It seems to me the whole management of the
war on the great river has been a series of blunders.
I hope Van Dorn will be removed, and may be suc-
ceeded by a better man.

“But I'll stop. My kind regards to Sister Paine
and the soldier’s wife, and to James and his family. I
hope he will recover, and that God may sanctify his
affliction. My love to John Merriwether when you
see him. My health is tolerably good, but my wife’s
health is feeble. God bless you and yours.”
488 The Life and Letters of

To BISHOP PAINE

‘“ NEWTON County, Ga, September 20, 1862,
‘“DEAR BROTHER:

‘Your letter directed to Oxford was received a few
days since. I have deeply sympathized with you in
your troubles consequent on the proximity of Lin-
coln’s men. Though your picture makes it even a
little worse than I expected, I’m glad your country is
rid of them. God grant that they may never return.
Oh, war, cruel war! How fearful are its curses upon
any people! Memphis Conference is to be held at
Holly Springs if the coast is clear. Now, as you are
on the spot,’and can more readily have communica-
tion with the brethren, please consider. yourself in
charge of the Conference and make any changes which
you think best, and I will work into your place.
Should the Yankees return or continue to occupy the
Southwest in any considerable force, it will not be ad-
visable for you to cross the Mississippi to your work.
But you will be better able to judge as the time ap-
proaches. Should you not go I shall expect you with
me at the Memphis Conference. But by what route
shall I reach either Holly Springs or Grenada? I sup-
pose railroad communication is entirely cut off. How
can either place be reached supposing the Yankees
retain their present hold on the country? I suppose
it is well to be looking ahead. I think we must make
an effort for a General Conference some time this win-
ter or in early spring. If so, where shall we hold it?
Shall the delegates already elected be the represen-
tatives, or shall Annual Conferences elect others?
Everything now is obliged to be irregular. Necessity
Fames Osgood Andrew. 489

~is upon us and we must do the best we can. We
are having some fine revivals in this country. A
good deal of the old camp-meeting fire yet burns in
Georgia. My own health is good—my wife’s very
poor. I wish you joy of your new son in-law, and I
hope he may prove a blessing to his wife and her
parents. I trust James has recovered by this time.
Give my love tohim. Remember me kindly to Sister
Paine and to all the children, and also to James’s wife.
God bless you and yours and bless us all.”

To BISHOP PAINE.
‘March ro, 1862.
““My DEAR BISHOP:

“JT wrote to you some time since that I had con-
cluded to postpone the General Conference to some
future time to be fixed by the Bishops, and I now
write to say that that meeting will take place in
Atlanta, Ga., on April 10th next. I have selected
Atlanta as perhaps it will be the most central position
for us all. I trust it will be agreeable to you.

“Well, we are in a bad fix. What is to become of
us in Church and State! God only knows, and he
alone can help us. Shall be glad to hear from you.
God bless you and yours.

‘* A ffectionately,
“JAMES O. ANDREW.”

The arrangement for the General Conference in
Atlanta fell through, but the Bishops, with Dr. Mc-
Tyiere and other preachers, met in Columbus, Ga.

: 21*
490 The Life and Letters of

To DR. F. A. MOOD.

‘¢ Summerfield, October 13, 1863.

“DEAR FRANK:

“lam greatly obliged to you for your kind letter,
received some little time since, and should be very
happy to have often a repetition of such favors. They
tell me that your big’ gun is bursted: how now? I
suppose that your defences are by that much weak-
ened, yet I guess your able and indefatigable officers
will find means to supply its loss. Well, good old
Charleston is defending herself nobly against the most
unscrupulous, persevering, and ingenious foes that
ever beleaguered a city. May God disappoint them at
last, and may the Confederate flag always float proudly
over your city. Our country is certainly in a perilous
condition, and God alone can deliver us. I rejoice in the
weekly tidings of extensive revivals of religion among
our soldiers. This is, I think, one principal encourage-
ment at preseht. It says plainly that God is with us,
and affords strong ground for believing that He will yet
deliver us. In Him is all my hope for myself and my
country. Thanks to God for our-recent victory. We
are in danger of making.too much ado about it. As
long as Rosecrans occupies Chattanooga our victory is
only half achieved, and.I doubt not that it will be found
very difficult to drive him from his position. This
seems to be the case with all our victories; the work is
left only half accomplished. Our generals appear to me
to know how to fight well without knowing how to im-
prove their victories. The clouds are dark, and our sun
is deeply obscured, but Jesus reigns in heaven and in
earth, and we may rest assured if the Lord delight in
James Osgood Andrew, 491

us we shall succeed, and in any event God will over-
rule all for His glory and the good of the Church.

‘“‘T was glad to see by the Advocate, that you were
now a chaplain to one or more of the hospitals in
Charleston. I congratulate you on your appointment
to this most honorable and useful position. It opens
a fine field for usefulness which I trust you will most
assiduously and successfully cultivate. Oh, to be the
humble instrument of pointing the sick and the dying
soldier to that Jesus who died to redeem them and is
ready to save them! What a glorious privilege! The
work may be painful, and you may lose all your ener-
gies and your powers of endurance, but you will not
falter, for Jesus is with you and will commune con-
stantly with your heart. May God graciously and
abundantly bless you in your soul and body. Write
me whenever you can and tell me how things go on
in the city. Remember me kindly to the family and
all my friends in Charleston, and tell them how deeply
I sympathize with them and pray for them. My wife
joins me in love to all. Jimmie is still an invalid; he
is with me at present. I wish you would write to him.
I want you a// to love each other.

“Yours very affectionately,
‘JAMES O. ANDREW.”

To Dr. JAMES R. MOOD.
‘“ SUMMERFIELD, July 28, 1861.
‘““My DEAR JAMES:

“It has been a long while since I heard anything
from any of you. Once you did write to me occa-
sionally, but of late you don’t trouble yourself about
me. Now, it is true I’m an old fogy, but still I love
492 The Life and Letters of

my kinsfolk and love to hear of their well-being, and
the fact is I grow a little jealous if they neglect me. I
want you to make a note of this and govern yourself
accordingly. The fact is, I want to know how you all
are getting along. I heard that Martha was very ill
last summer, and came up to Atlanta for her health.
How has she got? Well, I hope. And I hope an-
other thing—the next time she gets up the country
she will make a brief halt in the neighborhood of Yel-
low River Bridge. I trust you all are not so elated at
being an independent foreign nation that you will
grow proud and forget your obligations to God and
His Church. I see you have been in a great state of
excitement-—‘ War and rumors of war.’ I pray God
that He will overrule all these disturbances for the
advancement of’ His own glorious kingdom, and for
the ultimate peace and prosperity of this once glorious
and happy country. My soul has been greatly trou-
bled at the state of the country. But my reliance is
in God; He sitteth King above the water-flood. If
He be pleased with us we shall prosper; if He is
angry with us we shall be scourged. Oh! may our
people bear the rod and Him who hath appointed it.
If He scourge us, may it be in mercy.

‘‘T should like to hear the news from Charleston
fully, ‘and I reckon I had best take a Charleston
paper. Can you have the Charleston Courier (weekly)
sent tome here? My love to your father and to the
preachers, and everybody else who may think enough
of me to ask after me. Let me hear from you. God
bless you.

“JAMES O. ANDREW.”
‘Fames Osgood Andrew, 493

CHAPTER XIII.

LITERARY LABORS.

Qualifications for Authorship. —Work on ‘‘ Family Government.”—"' Mis-
cellanies.""—Newspaper Contributions.—Review Articles.

AD Bishop Andrew been less modest he would
have written much more. The fact that his
early education had not been advanced, united to the
fact that his estimate of his own abilities was always
low, kept him from attempting what he had all ability
to do. He was, however, always inclined toward
authorship. Had his life been less active, could he
have remained in his study more, he would have
written ‘much and have written well. He did write
much, and did write well; but his articles were mainly
for the periodical press and designed to meet.a pres-
ent need. No man was ever read more generally. He
was never tedious, never obscure. He said what he
thought, and said it forcibly.

He was rather a thinker than a reader, rather a
reader than a student—as students are generally
known—and it would be a great mistake to suppose
that since he did not apply himself to grammars and
lexicons he did not study. No man studied more
closely, and his writings clearly evince the lofty range
of his thought. He read rapidly but thought pro-
494 The Life and Letters of

foundly on what he read, being a bold, practical
thinker. He was little given to mere speculation.
Fond of poetry, he read it with avidity when it was
the poetry of the heart; fond of music, he enjoyed it
greatly when its ultimate was to awaken and stimulate
a holy affection. His style was the luxuriant elegance
of nature—not the studied regulation beauty of a land-
scape-gardener with shears and pruning-knife. He
prepared his sermons in his own way. If he ever
wrote one I have never seen it, and I doubt whether
he ever did. He thought them out fully, and spoke
as he thought.

The sense of his deficiencies, as he often called
them, of early education always kept him humble—
too humble—and he seemed unaware that his schools
had led him to the same goal as those of the univer-
sity. He knew how to conceive and to bring forth
thoughts of the highest practical value. Addison
himself never used the English tongue with more
felicity than he often did—a characteristic which clung
to him from boyhood. If his father had had more
books perhaps it would not have been so; but the select
library he had, shut the boy. up to the best works and
thus formed his style. There are not a few class-room
critics who read books like a good proof-reader reads
proof—professionally and automatically. A misplaced
comma, a misspelled word, an awkward sentence, a
pleonasm, causes them to lose sight of all that is ex-
cellent in the subject-matter, and with such Bishop
Andrew would have stood rather a poor chance.
He wrote rapidly and very carelessly. Capable of
writing the purest English, his composition did not
always measure up to his capacity.
Fames Osgood Andrew. 498

_ Wise books are not always large, and the best are
not those freshest from the press; and Bishop An-
drew’s little book on ‘‘ Family Government,” pub-
lished nearly forty years ago, is full from cover to
cover of. most excellent and needed counsel on the
most vital of subjects. The chapters were originally
published in the Southern Christian .Advocate, and
the demand for them was so great that he was com-
pelled to issue them in book form, wherein was dis-
cussed, in the most racy manner, the great questions
involved. The choice of a companion, the proper rela-
tion of husband and wife, the tender care and perfect
confidence of the husband, the love and truth and obe-
dience due from the wife, parental discipline, the educa-
tion and religious training of children, duty to servants
—on these all-important subjects he had very decided
and pronounced views, and he gives them utterance
in his little volume. In his chapter on the ‘‘ Duty to
Servants” his opinions on the obligation of the Chris-
tian master to regard the marriage tie of the slave,
and under no circumstances ever to break it, are ex-
pressed in language strong enough for any anti-slavery
man, as is the sentiment against the domestic slave-
trade. This little book alone would establish Bishop
Andrew’s claim to a high place among practical think-
ers. It is areal mine of wise counsels; not a useless
or obscure sentence in it. The chapter on “ Filial
Duties” found its most admirable exemplar in the
author of the book, the story of whose untiring filial
love has been already told. -

He afterward published a volume of ‘‘ Miscellanies.”’
He had not the time to write laboriously and carefully,
and his ‘‘ Miscellanies,” from which we have drawn
496 The Life and Letters of

copiously, are merely selections from his newspaper
correspondence. In addition to the “ Itinerary,’
which is delightful reading, he has five essays on
‘ Missions,”’ which are very able and eloquent.

‘‘ These men,” he says, ‘‘ heard their Master’s com-
mission, and, after receiving the pentecostal baptism,
went forth fully armed and equipped for the great
warfare which lay before them. They loved their
Master ; they had witnessed the grandeur of his mira-
cles, the glory of his transfiguration; they had trem-
bled and wept when all these glories seemed forever
eclipsed in the dark and gloomy night of his cruci-
fixion, and then they had exulted in the marvel of his
resurrection, and their mind had been opened to un-
derstand the Scriptures. . . . They loved him as
their own personal Saviour, and gazing on the whole
race from the standpoint of the Cross, their souls
yearned for the salvation of all, and they went forth
to preach Jesus and him crucified to all, because they
felt that he had pitied and prayed and died for all.
‘ One God-given motive, one heaven-born,
all-absorbing passion, controlled, directed. ‘The love
of Christ constraineth us’ was their motto. They in-
quired not if the field was pleasant, the labor light,
the pay good, or whether it was near home, but the
only question was as to their individual responsibility.

“Does God send us?’ was the only question.

Such were the men who composed the
Saviour’s grand army of invasion. . . . We re-
gard the Saviour as intending this command to speak
trumpet-tongued to the church ministers and laity,
till the work is consummated—till from hill and vale
and mountain-top, from the North Pole to the South
Fames Osgood Andrew. 497

—everywhere—from palace and hovel, from the lips
of kings, nobles, slaves, and beggars the world-wide
Allelulia shall be.”

‘Christianity is essentially aggressive in its charac-
ter. It can never be at rest so long as sin and error
are in the world. MHoliness and sin can never unite
in wedlock, but there must necessarily be war—stern,
uncompromising war—between them. . . . The
preacher of the Cross was in some sort an Ishmaelite
—whenever he preached there was an open declara-
tion of war against long-cherished and firmly estab-
lished systems of religion. Could these early preach-
ers look for anything else than persecution ?

Yet no man among them faltered, no craven lips
whispered of retreat or a truce with the powers of
darkness.”

“Tt is,” he adds, ‘‘ it must always be, decidedly and
boldly aggressive. The moment it ceases to be so it
loses the distinctive characteristic of the Church of
Jesus. Whenever the members of a Church become
satisfied with paying their own preacher, whenever
they begin to count the cost of sending the Gospel to
distant lands, and the preachers encourage this spirit
lest they might find a lessening of their support, you
may be sure that, without a prompt repentance,
Ichabod will be the appropriate inscription for their
temple.”

“Wesley had a soul too large and a zeal too se-
raphic to be limited in his operations by conventional
forms or parochial limits. ‘The world is my parish,’
was his grand missionary response to those who
sought to tiehim down. . . . It was in accord-
ance with this view that he so early sent missionaries
498 The Life and Letters of

to these shores, and the men who were sent hither by
him came breathing the same spirit. They found
themselves in a land which was emphatically a vast
missionary field, and they went forth boldly, scatter-
ing with liberal hand the Word of Life. . . . But
few comfortable homes smiled on their approach or
invited their stay ; no missionary treasury ever prom-
ised them a decent coat; yet they went forth stretch-
ing their lines on every side, not waiting for good
houses or polite invitations, but all the while looking
out anxiously for some destitute nook or corner where
they might find an open door or force one.”

These are some of the ringing sentences of these
appeals, and with a practical application he concludes
the fourth of them. Speaking of China, he says:

“It is obvious to every man of reflection that we
must either strengthen the mission or abandon it;
which shall we do? As I have charge of that work I
advertise you, 7 cannot, will not, retreat. We want
two men to send to China this year, and we wish it
understood that these men are to be regarded as the
vanguard of a much larger force. If the Board will
endorse it and help us out, very well; zf ot, we shall
throw otirselves upon the Church and our friends for
the wherewithal to sustain us in our plans.”

“And now, in accordance with these views, we
think the Church has acted wisely in establishing her
first foreign mission in China. If we are going to at-
tack idolatry, let it be in the heart of the empire.
The Chinese are to some extent enlightened; they
are areading people. The field is a wide one, and if
we can succeed in giving the Scriptures and the Gos-
pel of God free circulation throughout that vast em-
SFames Osgood Andrew. 499

pire, we shall have kindled a fire whose light and heat
shall be felt through all heathendom.”’ So the brave
old man saw thirty years ago. From the mount of
prophetic vision he saw the grand work now just
fairly beginning. Does he not work now for China
as he did then? Yea, verily, only better.

I have given these random extracts, not only toshow
his style, but to show how wise he was in his views on
China thirty years ago. To-day, as I was writing
(May 18, 1882), I saw acable telegram from Dr. Allen,
of the China Mission to the General Conference, and
can hear that body singing the Doxology in their
grateful fervor. That telegram had not been sent nor
the Doxology sung, perhaps, if the brave old Bishop
had not said, ‘‘/ shall not retreat. Appropriation or
no appropriation the missionaries shall go,and more
shall follow them.”

He wrote much, and ‘his writing, like his speaking,
was always to edification. In 1842, we find a letter
to Amelia, telling her that the Mississippi Conference
earnestly asked for his address to the candidates, and
that he had really written two or three pages. He
completed the writing and published the address to
candidates ; this was when he had been a Bishop for
ten years. There are passages in it which stir the
heart to its depths. ‘Can you trust God?” he says.
‘‘Have you in your heart a realizing sense of the pres-
ence of Him who is invisible ? You will find this es-
sential to your proper and successful ministration of
the Word of Life. Without it your heart will fail in
the cloudy and dark day when the storm is loud and
the waves are running high. Nothing can sustain a
man in the work of the ministry but a Divine persua-
500 The Life and Letters of

sion of the presence of the ever-living God. Without
this our ministrations may be teeming with wisdom
and beautiful oratory, but they will be powerless.
The light we show forth may be brilliant, but it will
be the cold moonbeam playing among the crags of
the towering iceberg. There will be no heat, no
thawing power will go with it. Look well to your-
selves on this point. . . . Baptized with this
Spirit you will have proper views of your ministry, its
obligations and its issues. The cry of perishing millions
will come over your heart like a voice from the spirit
land. The love of Christ will constrain you, and you
will gladly dedicate all your powers, and all your days
to the great work of publishing peace by Jesus Christ.

We, above all men, have no time for idle-
ness or unprofitable employment. Time is flying,
sinners are dying, the Master is calling, and a voice
from the most excellent glory urges you to your pray-
ers, to your Bible, and to your pulpits. It is because
this rule is so much neglected that many of our preach-
ers do not rise to respectability in their calling. It is
not want of gifts, it is not want of time, it is not want
of means: nine times out of ten itis because they vio-
late this rule. They are idle, they sleep, they lounge,
they read newspapers, they talk politics, they sit
about the stores or in the changing shade where vil-
lage gossips meet, or read the trash with which the
periodical press is weekly flooding the country, in-
stead of grappling with unfaltering purpose the mys-
terious and glowing truths which, after the example
of angels, they are called to study. The result is their
minds are barren. They preach the same sermons
now that they did twenty years ago, and the people,
Fames Osgood Andrew. 501

tired of eating always the same stale loaf, leave them
to dispense it to empty benches, and then, instead of
taking shame to themselves, they abuse the few faith-
ful who take up the cross in coming to hear them,
alleging that the people are all backsliders, and point-
ing to houses their own idleness hath emptied as the
proof. . . . We have no heart to seek popularity,
no ear to hear its shout. Heaven and hell, sin and
holiness, condemnation and pardon, the incarnation,
agony, death, resurrection, ascension, and second
coming of the glorious Redeemer, God’s wrath and
God’s love, the world’s falsehood and God’s truth—
these are the themes of our thought and speech, and
is there any time for us to be trifling? Be serious.
Your love to God and man will make you cheerful,
but it should also maintain in you a spirit of serious-
ness. . . . To your prayers, your books, and
your work till you have acquired character sufficient
to command a welcome from the people of your charge
both for yourself and your wife; and should some
angel form, some creature of light, in the meantime
rise before your vision, and you begin to say, ‘I shall
never see another one’—stop brother; don’t be un-
easy; first prepare yourself for your work, and then
either this or some other Angel will cross your
path. #

The remainder of the address, which is a long one,
is filled with such wise counsels. I do not know a
treatise on pastoral theology which is fuller of wisdom.
The young preachers who read this biography will do
well to get the ‘‘ Miscellanies” and carefully study
these judicious teachings of one of the wisest of our
teachers. He wrote to do good, and so he wrote
502 The Life and Letters of

through the newspaper press. The columns of every
newspaper in the connection were enriched by him
with occasional articles. After Dr. Summers began
to edit the Review he wrote often for him, and his
articles were always leading ones.

Perhaps the last Review article he gave was on
“ Ministerial Education.” He believed in education,
He had always worked for it and for the education of
ministers, but he doubted whether any one curricu-
lum would suit all, and whether some men would be
better preachers or more efficient workers if they had
classical training. To make any high grade of at-
tainments a size gua non to the ministerial office he
did not believe to be wise or Christian. His views
were moderate and conservative—educate as highly as
you can consistently with the interest at stake, with
the work to be done. His last published article was
to the Christian Index, for his colored friends. His
last paper (which was not printed until after his death)
was addressed to young preachers, through the New
Orleans Christian Advocate, and we give it entire:

““TThe Rev. J. W Rush sends us a paper written
by Bishop Andrew just before he was stricken with
paralysis. The letter covers four pages of letter sheet,
and is in the Bishop’s characteristic chirography, only
indicating a hand more trembling and nervous than
usual. The labor of writing witha pen seems to have
been exceedingly difficult, and the fourth page is
written with a pencil. Brother Rush, in a note ac-
companying the letter says: ‘I herewith send you
the piece on “‘ Levity in the Ministry,” written by
Bishop Andrew while at the house of his dear friend,
Dr. Moss, in New Orleans. It is the last piece he

 
Fames Osgood Andrew. 503

ever wrote for the public. I found it in his pocket,
and put it away so carefully that it seemed I would
never find it again. I regret that it did not sooner
occur to me where I had put it. The letter was
written for the Advocate, and is at your service.’]

“LEVITY IN THE MINISTRY.

‘Ts there not too much levity in the ministry, and
in the Church generally ? The apostle, I think, warns
us against foolish talking and jesting, which, he says,
are not convenient, but rather giving of thanks; and
our discipline says: ‘Be serious } let your motto be
Holiness.’ Now from these important teachings I in-
fer that the apostle did not believe this levity of speech
did well agree with the Christian’s proper spirit of
thanksgiving. We think that for Christian Ministers:
it is of the first importance that they cultivate a spirit
of seriousness. It seems to me that every circum-
stance connected with their work demands that it be
done seriously. They stand as God’s embassadors to
a world of lost and helpless sinners. God’s character
and his word to these sinners must form the theme of
their ministrations. Does it become them to laugh
and joke when they are addressing the mighty God in
prayer? Or is it appropriate that when we are ad-
dressing a poor lost and wandering sinner, and en-
deavoring earnestly to persuade him to come to the
Good Shepherd in view of his imminent danger as a
sinner wandering from God, and to urge him to the
mercy seat in view of the agony of the cross, and the
glorious resurrection, and invitations and promises of
an ascended and glorified Redeemer, when the sin-
504 The Life and Letters of

ner is seeking mercy and comes to you for help, would
it seem appropriate to you, as God’s servant, when
the guilty sinner asks what he must do to be saved,
that you tell him in reply some pleasant story and ac-
company it with loud laughter ? Would not this seem
wretchedly out of joint for a Christian pastor? And
yet how many Christian pastors do this very thing sub-
stantially? Oh! Christian brother, can you look at
the dying thousands around you and fail to feel seri-
ous in view of their present condition and future pros-
pects?

“‘Now, a few words to the preachers before we
close these desultory remarks. I ask you, my breth-
ren, can you look to the future of precious souls
around you, and not feel your soul moved for them?
And will you not resolve, by God’s help, to do all in
your power to save them? Now, if these people
daily associate with you, and the best judgment which
they can form of you is that you are a good fellow,
can crack a good joke, tell a good story, and can set the
table in a roar, are you likely to win them to Jesus?
I know some preachers who are not remarkable for
anything except that they can tell a good story, and
manufacture all the trimmings to pass well. The Rev.
Dr. Olin is reported to have said that he never knew
a man who could tell a good story who did not ée.
This may seem rather a hard judgment, yet I think
there is more truth than poetry in it.

‘““We have certainly no objection to a proper
amount of cheerfulness, and a chastened wit and
humor in the social intercourse of friends, but let it
be properly regulated, both as to quality and quantity,
both as to time and place. I fear that many of the
Fames Osgood Andrew. 505

people look quite too much to amusement for happi-
ness, See what a tendency in the church to light and
trifling amusements which ungodly people delight
to indulge in. And this is seen not only in their
conversations and associations, but in the book which
they delight to read. Perhaps I have said quite too
much. May be so; but my soul has often been
pained in looking at this thing. I love the Church
and seek her welfare, or I had_ not written these
things.

‘‘May God bless them to the good of all con-
cerned.

“JAMES O. ANDREW.”
22
506 The Life and Letters of

%

CHAPTER XIV.

RELIGIOUS EXPERIENCE,

Conversion.— Consecration.— Obedience.— Christian Perfection.— Faith
in Providence.—Instances of Interposition.—Submission to God's
Will.—Bishop Pierce's View.

HE Christian experience of any good man is

worthy of special and careful study, and when

that man has a character so marked, and so striking’

as was that of Bishop Andrew, and the revelation of

his inner life has been so full it becomes especially
valuable.

As he taught, he was. His doctrines and his life
were in accord. He believed in a religion that had
its effect upon the whole life—mind and heart and
body ; the sensations as well as the conscience and
the understanding—and he was assured by his own
feelings of the correctness of that belief. How early
his religious life began, who can tell? Baptized in
infancy, taught to pray before he could remember,
always conscientious and reverential, he could not
point to a period when he did not honor God and
love Jesus ; but when his consciousness of the divine
favor was first felt he could tell very plainly. Per-
haps no boy could have been freer from even boyish
sins. He was as innocent, perhaps, as a boy could
be without conscious faith up to the time he was fifteen
Fames Osgood Andrew. 507

years old. Then, at a camp-meeting in 1809, he felt
the pangs of guilt; he repented, went to Christ, re-
ceived the holy ghost as a witnessing renewing power,
and went away in peace. It was not what the old
fathers would have called a powerful conversion, and
perhaps that caused many a doubt afterward. There
was nothing very remarkable in it. He wes awakened ;
he sought Christ and soon found him and joined in
society. Perhaps the outward change was scarcely
perceptible. His boyhood’s Christian life was like
that of most immature and inexperienced persons, -
marked by doubts and perplexities, and, as he called
them, heart backslidings. But one feature belonged
to him, then as always—obedience to the call of duty.

We have already seen his early struggles about
preaching. He was told, after he made an honest
effort to preach, that he never would make a preacher.
He agreed with the one who told him, but did not
cease to try. He had made an entire surrender to
God, and an entire consecration to His service. He
did this at the beginning. He never repudiated it.
He had entered into a solemn covenant to be the.
Lord’s. God was his father; Jesus Christ his Lord ;
to obey without hesitation was his watchword all his
life. Inaletter to his son seeking Christ, he says:
“‘Make an entire consecration, keep back nothing.”
I think perhaps this recognition of the absolute au-
thority of Jesus Christ over him was the most promi-
nent feature of his life. Jesus Christ had given His
life for him, he gave in return his life to Him; con-
strained by love he would live unto Him.

He left his home because he heard his Master’s call.
He refused to leave his hard work even when filial
508 The Life and Letters of

affection seemed to demand it, because his Master had
not given him his discharge. It was this spirit of
perfect submission which kept him at his post while
his queenly young wife toiled to assist in supporting
his little girls, while he gave all his time to a people
able enough to support him, but too little willing.
Whatever Gad required he was to do—

‘* His not to reason why,
His not to make reply,
His but to do and die.”

’

There was positively no reserve. There was no
place to which he would not go, no suffering he would
not endure. There was no price so great as to bribe
him ; no pleasure so bright as to seduce him; no
danger so great as to daunt him. From boyhood to
near his fourscore years, he was an entirely conse-
crated man. He wasason who yielded all the obedi-
ance of a servant.

His faith took hold on all that God had revealed.

_ Jesus Christ, the atonement, the sinner’s friend ; Jesus,
-who had died for every child of man, who could save,
and would save, was his friend, and his Saviour. '
““Come to Jesus;”’ ‘‘ Love Jesus ;”’ ‘‘ Obey Jesus ;”’
he said to the children, inthose years when he could
no longer preach as had been his wont. ‘‘ Come to
Jesus,” had been the theme of his ministry all his
life long. He lived by faith in Him. He knew noth-
ing but Jesus, as an object of trust. His trust in the
fulness and freeness and sufficiency of grace was en-
tire. The flesh was weak, but there was the Spirit to
sanctify. Man was unworthy, but God was willing to
forgive and to help.
Fames Osgood Andrew. 509

His religious life was a sensation. He enjoyed it.
.He had a religion that he felt. His communion with

God was constant and joyous. He seems to have
been always happy in his religion; but we look in
vain for the raptures of Rutherford, the heavenly ab-
straction of Leighton, and the seraphic ecstacy of
Fletcher. He knew nothing of the religious depres-
sion of Bunyan, nor -of the exalted and unearthly
raptures of Payson. He lived on the Delectable
Mountains, but knew nothing of Giant Despair, nor
the Valley of the Shadow of Death, nor of the un-
earthly ecstacy of Beulah land. His was a manly,
healthy, serene, well-poised life. He was never given
to extravagancies of feeling or expression, and had
little use for them.

He was thoroughly Wesleyan in his belief—that we
are justified by faith, that we have dominion over all
sin, and that the peace of God and joy of the Holy
Ghost are for all God’s children, even the humblest.
He fully believed in the doctrine of Perfect Love, as
John Wesley defined it. He evidently, for many-years,
enjoyed it, though he never professed it, nor do I
find in any of his letters any allusion to it distinc-
tively ; he seemed to regard this Higher Life, as it is
called, as in the reach of all true believers, and as ob-
ligatory on all.

His third wife, a most saintly woman, urged him to
profess Christian Perfection, but he would not. Had
his ideas of Christian Perfection been the same as hers,
and of many of its most sincere and excellent profes-
sors, he would not have hesitated, but his view of the
grace was so exalted, and his estimate of himself so
low, that he never applied this term, to his own expe-
510 The Life and Letters of

rience. He livedin the Light, he walked in the Spirit,
he had a love which cast out all fear. He had refresh-
ing seasons of holy communion with God, he was at
peace with all men, he was entirely consecrated to
God’s service, his faith was unwavering. All this he
was ready meekly to declare as his portion, through
God’s grace, but he gave this state of the heart no
name. No man ever believed more fully in the blessed
truth, that we are sanctified by faith, than he did. No
man ever believed in the rest of faith more firmly, no
man seems to have known for long years more com-
pletely what it was to have entire dominion over sin—
entire deadness to the world; but when he reached
this state of grace he does not say. There is no evi-
dence from him that he ever passed through a second
marked -change. There is evidence that this matu-
rity of grace was secured after his conversion, but at
what time we do notknow. He certainly—while he
says nothing in his letters with reference to the grace of
Christian Perfection as a distinct grace given always
after Regeneration through faith, and instantaneously
—was not disposed to discount those who professed
to have attained it thus. He was in full sympathy
with them, and rejoiced in their joy. ‘‘ Mr. Andrew,”
said his last wife, ‘‘is an enigma to me. I know I
am by the blood of Jesus cleansed from sin, and yet I
know he is better than I am, and he will not say he
is.’ He did not, I think, have any special objection
to the use of the terms ‘“‘ Entire Sanctification of Per-
fection,” but, like Mr. Wesley himself, preferred rather
to tell what God had done for him than to call the
blessing by a name of man’s choosing. His journal
evinces his interest on this subject at an early period.
Fames Osgood Andrew. 51

His life indicates how fully he came up. to the highest
standard, and his letters show how fully and entirely
he was sanctified throughout body and soul and spirit.
Loving God with his whole heart and mind and soul
and strength, rejoicing evermore, in everything giving
thanks, and praying without ceasing, no man ever
raised the standard higher, no man ever strove harder
to come up to it. I doubt whether many have suc-
ceeded better. I have studied his life from his boy-
hood to his death, as it has been revealed by those who
knew him best, and I have not found an act of a moral
character that needed defence or explanation. I have
read his letters for nearly sixty years—written to father
and mother, wife and children, on all subjects ; writ-
ten without any reserve, written for no eye but theirs ;
letters to his colleagues, to his brethren, in stirring,
angry times, when his name was rudely, unkindly
handled—but I have not found a word which needs to
be blotted out ; not an unkind, unloving, or idle one.
Yet he was a most positive man; his sarcasm was
absolutely fearful. He could, as Bishop Pierce says,
wither an offender like a simoon, with the fierceness
of his frown. Frippery, religious dandyism, cant,
hypocrisy, had no mercy at his hands. A young
man, timid and embarrassed, preached a sermon at his
instance in Oxford; another young preacher, pert,
flippant, and self-conceited, began to ridicule it. The
Bishop took him in charge. When he got out from
the Bishop’s hands he felt little like criticising an-
other. Such were some features of his practical re-
ligion.

His faith in God’s providence was simply unbounded.
God was all in all to him. He did not believe in

x
512 The Life and Letters of

God—he absolutely knew God and Jesus Christ whom
He had sent. In His presence he walked and in His
power and goodness he entirely confided. ‘‘ God will
provide for you,” he said to his father and mother in
1817. ‘‘ God will take care of us,” he said to his old
wife in 1867. ‘ God will overrule it all,” he said in
time of darkest trial. And most wonderfully was his
faith vindicated. When he sent up his name to the
Conference for admission, he had no horse, and no
money to buy one, but when the time came the pony
Cicero was at the door. When he was sent to the
Charleston District he had no home to shelter his
head, but the parsonage at Bethel was ready for him.
When he was elected Bishop the people bought him
ahome. When he was without money after the war,
we see how God opened his way to Texas. But one
of the most extraordinary events of this kind occurred
in 1869. He was‘out of money, his wife sick, and he
himself not far from his end. One day he received a
letter from a Southern man in a Northern city, long
a resident in it and at that time a member of the
Methodist Episcopal Conference. He told the Bishop
he had some money for him, but was not willing for
his name to be known, and requested him to enclose
his reply to some friends in New York who would
remail to him. The Bishop responded, and with a
letter full of warm, affectionate utterance he sent him
One Thousand Dollars. The donor still lives, but re-
fuses to allow his name to be given. The gift from
New Orleans—the noble generosity of William Otis,
of Mobile—we shall see further on. He never turned
aside a moment to make money. He lived by faith,
and his wants were always supplied. His perfect dis-
Fames Osgood Andrew. 513

regard of all business rules, except those of paying
carefully all he owed, used to astonish his friends.
He gave and gave until the last penny was gone.
Calls came to him from every direction, and he res-
ponded to all, but God always supplied his needs.

As he trusted in God to provide, he submitted per-
fectly to His will in all things. Jesus Christ was king.
He ruled—it was enough. Smitten, he bowed his
head, and said: ‘‘It is the Lord.” He buried his
children, his companions, his wife, saw disaster and
affliction on every side, bore the sorrows of children,
and said always, ‘‘ God is good—trust Him.” One
of his daughters had a lovely child who was attacked
by a disease which threatened to go with her through
life. ‘‘ God will bring good out of it,” he said. Rush
was threatened with blindness. ‘If it should come,
it will be for the best—trust God.” The darkest hour
was the hour of his most entire trust and his sweetest
submission. ‘‘ Jesus Christ is King,” was the joyful
confidence of all his days. He received all affliction
as from His hand. It was for good—only good. No
adversity could affect this faith. It swept with an
eagle’s wing above all clouds.

He was a man of very strong feelings; of very
warm attachments—perhaps of as strong antipathies.
He kept his antipathies subdued, and gave his attach-
ments their full play. Self-seeking, ambition for place,
effeminacy, excited his scorn, and he did not fail to
express it ; but toward the struggling, the feeble, the
lowly, his love was strong and tender. The negroes
were the objects of his lifelong care; he taught them
in Sunday-school when a boy, he wrote for them the
last article he ever sent to the press. The children

22*
514 The Life and Letters of

were always close to him. His love for them was
simply unlimited. Of this more hereafter.

His religious habits were fixed. He rose every
morning at four o’clock. To bed at nine, to rise at
four, was his father’s rule, and hisown. There was no
greater privation to him than to be forced to remain
in bed after that hour. As soon as he rose he sang
the Doxology. Then after dressing he knelt in pray-
er. He prayed long and earnestly, and often audibly,
for the church, for his children by name, for himself,
for all. He then read the Bible till breakfast. He
came out of his closet to the breakfast-table as se-
rene and as cheerful as one could be. After break-
fast he retired for a little while to meditate and pray.
At noonday he retired again for prayer. At sunset
he devoted quite a season to this blessed exercise, and
again when he retired to bed. He prayed alway.
On his knees were great callous places made by con-
stant kneeling. He took everything to God in prayer.
He asked for temporal blessings as well as spiritual,
and asking expected.

He was Christlike in every feature, and he came as
near being perfect as any man of whom I have ever
read. He thought he was very imperfect, and when
one spoke of him, where he could hear it, as an old
saint, he turned away in real disgust at what he thought
was wicked flattery. He was truly a man of God,
obedient, submissive, loving, brave, generous, self-
sacrificing, tender, pitiful, pure, and unselfish. His life
has left its impress on the church he served as have the
lives of few men. Enoch Marvin said no man had ever
so shaped his life as James O. Andrew, and many
another brave man has caught inspiration from the
Fames Osgood Andrew. 515

hero-bishop. Clear-sighted and pure-hearted to the
last, his counsel was sought, and I believe nearly al-
ways regarded. Bishop Pierce says:

“Our venerable father, before he had been called
hence, had well nigh reached his fourscore years,
beyond at least his threescore and ten. Converted
at ten years of age he had a long experience of the
grace of God. Through a protracted ministry he
realized, by turns, the sorrows and victories, the hon-
ors and disappointments peculiar to a faithful preach-
er’s life. His religion was deep and quiet; he was
never demonstrative. He walked in the light and
saw with the eyes of that faith which is the evidence
of things unseen. There never was any chasm in his
itineracy. He never located or farmed, or pursued
any secular calling. For him to live was Christ. He
was a man of one business; he loved the Master and
the church, and the work which Jesus had given him
to do; and even on his dying bed, when the check-
ered past all rose up before him in solemn review, he
affirmed that if he could live his life over again he
would be a Methodist preacher still—the only change,
greater fidelity. In the lapse of years and the on-
coming of decay our beloved friend was no dotard,
imagining himself strong and active and capable as
ever; but conscious of his growing infirmities, five
years ago he gracefully retired from the regular work ;
and when the strong man bowed himself, and his tot-
tering limbs could scarce bear the burden of his failing
body, it was a beautiful thing to see the old man visit
the churches where he had preached ; and as he stood
up, leaning upon his staff, talking to them of Jesus and
glory, and at last shaking hands in sweet farewell,
516 The Life and Letters of

persuaded that he should see their faces no more in the
flesh, and yet inviting them to come on to heaven.”

His life-long friend, Dr. Mitchell, says:

“(In pursuing farther the character and memory of
the deceased Bishop, I propose to dwell a moment upon
his personal experience of grace and the thorough-
ness of his piety as a Christian in private life, as well
as in his intercourse with society in the transaction of
his worldly business. He knew the scriptures from
his youth ; was conscientious. and prayerful from his
earliest recollections, and being in the midst of such
religious light, and surrounded with such pious re-
straints from his very infancy, I have no idea that he
ever fell into open sin at all; and hence when he made
a profession of religion there was very little change in
his outward deportment, and these things help to
account for the fact that in tracing his religious
experience he never went back to the precise time
and place of his conversion. But he soon learned
to estimate his religion not by his feelings but by
his faith, His communion with God was constant and
intimate. His early religious habits were formed
in those days when it was the custom of the mem-
bers of the church to pray regularly in secret at least
as often as they ate, and especially at the hour of
twilight in the evening, and on the part of our wor-
thy Bishop nothing was allowed to interfere with these
sacred hours of communion with God. Often have I
seen him break off from business and company for
retirement and prayer. And in addition to these
stated hours of communion with God, I have fre-
quently known him, at the dark hour of midnight, rise
and kneel by his bedside in earnest, fervent prayer.
Fames Osgood Andrew. 517

As might be expected from such habits, his piety was
characterized by cheerfulness and constancy. As a
Christian his ecstasies never rose very high ; and on
the other hand, never did I know him to fall into de-
spondency.

Dr. Andrews, who was with him at the last, says
very touchingly :

‘‘ His religion was genuine and pure. His sainted
mother taught him to read the word of God and pray.
From his cradle he imbibed from her sentiments of
truth and piety. The more he followed her advice
and example the stronger did his faith become. He
tested all the promises of God in Christ Jesus, and
found them to be yea and amen. While yet a youth
he was called to the work of the ministry. When the
voice of God reached him he ‘conferred not with
flesh and blood,’ but was ‘ obedient to the heavenly
calling.’ He was poor, and the Methodist itineracy
held out to him no moneyed inducements, but the course
of duty was plain and he followed it. In subsequent
life, as he grew beyond the early hopes of himself and
friends, munificent offers were made to him, such as
would have led to ample provision for himself and
family, but he would not receive them; he dared not
trifle with the vows that he had made by entangling
himself in worldly business. His work was to preach
the gospel, and to this he devoted all his time and re-
sources. He spent his whole life in teaching others
how to find the same precious faith with which he was
blessed. He believed that God would take care of
his family and sustain him if he continued faithful, and
he lived up to his convictions of truth and duty.

‘* His head did not grow dizzy when greatness was
518 The Life and Letters of

attained, nor did his brain reel when he was placed in
the highest office of the church. He did not lose the
Christian in the minister. His heart was ever pure,
his eye single, and his life ‘hid with Christ in God.’
He could say, in the midst of his greatest successes and
fame, ‘For me to live is Christ, and to die is gain.’
He read his Bible, fasted and prayed. The vestal fires
of love and gratitude to God, kindled upon the altar
of his youthful heart, never went out. They were fed
daily with fresh fuel, and went on with increasing
flame until quenched in the cold waters of death.
During his latter years, as the infirmities of age came
over him, his habit was to pray early. At four o’clock
in the morning, whether at home or abroad, he awoke
and began his devotions. On my way from the late
General Conference, held in the city of Memphis, it
was my privilege to be with him. We spent the night
together at Corinth, occupying the same room. I was
aroused from sleep in the morning by the voice of
prayer—the good Bishop, the Christian father and the
aged patriarch was on his knees before God! His
supplications on these occasions often became deep
and earnest. He would forget where he was and pray
aloud, his pathetic pleadings becoming audible in
every apartment of the house! Those whose privil-
ege it was to entertain him knew his habits of this
kind. Onthe morning that he was attacked by the
fatal disease that carried him away, he was heard to
groan in his bed about four o’clock in the morning.
Dr. Moss and his wife, in whose house the Bishop was
lodging in New Orleans, supposed that he was pray-
ing. But his groans continuing, the doctor, fearing
something unusual had taken place, went into his room
Fames Osgood Andrew. 519

and found him fatally ill! The first premonition of
death that our beloved father had was that he could
not rise and kneel before God as usual. I often
prayed with him during his sickness—found him ever
‘devout, his mind clear, and his heart perfectly stayed
upon God in Christ. I shall never forget his hearty
responses and the willing tones of his voice, powerful
and musical to the last! When the summons came
he was ready. When told that he must die, he re-
plied: ‘ God knows best !’”

The following tribute is from Bishop Pierce, who
knew him and loved him as few men could. Much
that he says here he has given us in the memorial
sermons, but it is best that the tribute he pays should
appear as he gives it. Bishop Pierce says:

‘“‘The biographer of Bishop Andrew asks me for
my recollections of him, and in response I give this
brief account :

‘‘T was yet in my teens—a mere boy—when I first
saw James O. Andrew. He was then in the prime of
life, and at the zenith of his power and popularity as
a preacher. ° He took rank with William Capers, then
considered the most eloquent and finished orator in
the land, either South or North, and with Stephen
Olin, who had then just burst in all the splendor of his
genius upon public admiration. I say nothing of my
father, who, by common consent, stood abreast with
this trio of great preachers. But of the three—Capers,
Olin, and Andrew—it is proper to say they were fine
specimens of that diversity of gifts with which God
endows his ministers, and each illustrated a kindred
diversity in the taste of the Church and the people.
They were very unlike, but each distinguished after
520 The Life and Letters of

his kind. Capers was a cultivated man, refined by
the associations of his early life, and educated up to
the popular standard of his time, but never remark-
able for his scholarship. His gentlemanly instincts,
his keen sense of propriety, and his belles-lettres train-
ing, combined with his wonderful facility of speech
and his active, fertile intellect, all concurred to make
him a most charming talker, and an eloquent, pathetic
preacher. His voice was an instrument of music.

“‘ Besides a native mind, vast, grand, thoroughly
trained, Olin had no special attractions. Of huge frame,
an ungainly person, a voice without compass or melody,
intensely awkward in movement, yet he was the most
impressive, overwhelming speaker I ever heard. A
sermon from his lips was a Niagara of thought, and
his emotional power corresponded with the breadth
andrush of his ideas. Verily, he was a man of power.

“* Andrew had no early advantages. His education
was scanty—very imperfect; his reading limited to
the library of a poor, local preacher. His father,
though one of the best of men, was of ordinary in-
tellect, and, while a schoolmaster, had very little
learning. His mother was a very superior woman,
and to her he was greatly indebted for the inspiration
which vitalized his early mental efforts. His begin-
ning as a preacher was lame and unpromising, but his
outcome was rapid. The man in him soon appeared.
When I first knew him he was fully developed and
ranked with the men I have mentioned. He was of
medium stature, full-fleshed, careless in dress and.
manner, his features large and coarse, a well-formed
head, a voice, clear, strong, enduring, not much vari-
ety in modulation, yet far from monotonous in tone,
Fames Osgood Andrew. 521

He had very little action in speaking, rarely gestured,
and seemed to rely for impression upon thought, emo-
tion, and cadence. His conceptions were grand. His
sentences Chalmerian in their swell and fullness. His
wealth of language was marvelous. It was easy for an
auditor to follow him. The simple could comprehend
him, his thoughts were so luminous, his words so apt
and perspicuous. A Sunday sermon from him at one
of the great camp meetings, when the immense crowd
sat awe-struck, spellbound for two hours, was an occa-
sion never to be forgotten. His mind swept on impe-
rial wing over vast fields of thought, and the awful veri-
ties of revelation seemed living, visible realities to the
hushed and weeping multitude. Many scenes of pre-
cious memory occur to me as I write these hasty lines.

‘‘In 1831, James O. Andrew was stationed in Au-
gusta. His ministry was greatly blessed. There was
a revival and a mighty ingathering. He was im-
mensely popular—an universal favorite. During the
autumnal months he had a bilious attack followed by
chill and fever, which greatly enfeebled him. The
Church was very anxious for his return. The Bishop
was disposed to send him back, but on consultation,
on account of his feeble health, he declined unless the
Bishop would give him an assistant. This it was de-
termined to do. So J. O. Andrew and G. F. Pierce
were sent to Augusta. This arrangement brought me
into intimate acquaintance and close fellowship with
my colleague. I lived in his family, and we were as-
sociated in all the labors and services of the station.
We had charge of both the white and colored con-
gregations. This was then the order of the day. The
congregations worshiped together in all the more
522 The Life and Letters of

public services. The social meetings were usually
separate. So we had our hands full—four sermons a
week, prayer-meetings, class-meetings, and pastoral
visiting among a large and scattered membership.

‘* During the year, in the month of May, J. O. An-
drew was elected Bishop. - This to him was a surprise
andacross. While it threw on me a heavy responsibil-
ity, to me it was a relief, because it saved me from the
embarrassment of preaching alternately to the same con-
gregation, with one of the foremost men of the Church,
I will say right here that Bishop Andrew entered upon
the work of his office with fear and trembling. He
had great distrust of himself, and down to the time of
his retirement felt himself a burdened man.

‘« But I anticipate. In his family Bishop Andrew
was a model of tenderness and love. He maintained
his authority over his children not so much by force
of command or fear of punishment as by the reverence
and affection he inspired. His wife was a woman of
superior sense, of great tact and unwearied energy,
and they harmonized in family government. Peace
and concord reigned in the household. The morning
and evening devotions were solemn, lively, spiritual.
The Bible lesson was read, an hymn was sung, and
then prayer. And such prayers! In devotion he was
eminently gifted. ‘Rich, tender, varied, they were
full of instruction of childlike confidente and the pious
breathings of an earnest soul.

‘In all the routine work of a preacher Bishop An-
drew was prompt, regular, uniform. He was always
ready, but when or how he prepared I never knew.
His méntal habits were peculiar to himself. They
seemed to me to be desultory—without specific meth-
SFames Osgood Andrew. 523

od. He read a great deal, and read well-chosen
books; but, as it appeared to me, he read rather to
gratify his taste than to enrich his mind—rather to
keep up his mental activity by attention to the thoughts
of others, than to elaborate them out of his own re-
sources by slow, painstaking processes. He never
used the pen. He never borrowed. While he was
not strikingly original, he was wholly independent.
His methods were his own. He read much, thought
much, butin a general way. He kept his mind full,
not for a special subject, but for any and every occa-
sion. He did not trouble himself about exegesis.
His preaching was not expository. All he wanted was
one great idea, capable of paraphrase and expansion.
He could amplify amazingly without repetition. In his
prime he never wearied his hearers with platitudes.
His utterances were vital, fresh—never musty or insipid.

‘‘Unfettered by plans or forms, he never repeated
himself, or, if he did, he never knew it, nor did his
hearers ever find it out. Some of his grandest efforts
were made in prayer-meetings, or in Wednesday night
sermons, when the audience was small, and nothing
outward to excite him. When the afflatus was upon
him, he poured out his soul in thoughts that breathe
and words that burn. It never seemed to occur to
him that such magnificent views ought to be reserved
for the great congregation. He lavished them upon
the faithful few in unstinted measure. He felt that
these inspirations were spiritual, given for the occa-
sion, and not to be suppressed for any prudential
consideration. He spoke as the Spirit gave him ut-
terance. When God unsealed the fountains of thought
and feeling he let the waters flow, whether they were
524 The Life and Letters of

to irrigate a garden ora field. The most awful, start-
ling, soul-awakening discourse I ever heard from him
was delivered ona week night to a very thin audience,
from the text, ‘Thou God seest me.’ It was full of
truth and power. When he spoke of the inquisition
of God into human conduct, and of the wrath revealed
from heaven against all ungodliness and unrighteous-
ness, the bolts fell so thick and fast that I instinctively
drew myself into the smallest possible compass, lest I
should be struck along with others. The crowd was
small and the distribution large. Every man get his
portion.

‘As a pastor, he gave special attention to the poor.
The sick, the humble, the obscure shared largely in
his sympathies and services. To the upper strata of
society—the rich, polite, refined—he gave but little of
his time or labor. The artificial forms, the heartless
etiquette of society, he could not tolerate. Free,
natural, easy himself, respectful to all, and courteous
under the impulse of love and good-will, he chafed
under the arbitrary exactions of fashion. The truth is,
the Bishop loved his ease, and liked to enjoy himself in
his own way. But he illustrated pure and undefiled
religion by visiting the fatherless and widows in their
affliction. Like Barnabas, he was a good man and
full of the Holy Ghost and faith.

“It is worthy of mention that while the great men
of whom I have written might have been, by the
thoughtless, considered rivals, they never so under-
stood it or felt it. They rejoiced in each other.
There was no envy or jealousy among them. Their
friendship was sincere and abiding. It was my privi-
lege to be familiar with their correspondence and their
Fames Osgood Andrew. 525

social life. They were all fine talkers, gifted in repar-
tee, abounding in original humor, not much on anec-
dotes—all sprightly, cheerful, and fond of a hearty
laugh. But they never compromised their ministerial
dignity. All was chaste, pure, exalted, and refining.
From one of their lively conversations they might
have gone into the services of the sanctuary, without
* being conscious of any discrepancy between the play-
fulness of their brotherly intercourse and the gravity
of their ministerial duties. \
“It is a singular fact that Bishop Andrew declined
as a preacher after his election to the Episcopacy. He
was burdened with care and responsibility ; his habits
of study were broken up; his pastoral relations were
too general to be intensely realized; the tension of
his mind was relaxed, and withal he conceived the
idea that as a Bishop he must be an example of ex-
treme simplicity in style, and so he let down from the
grand to the colloquial. Hence his mind did not act
normally, and he was feeble as compared with his
former self. Moreover time, age, and labor under-
mined his muscular vigor. In his palmiest days
‘weariness enfeebled his mental action. Bishop An-
drew grew prematurely old. As the infirmities of
age began to be felt, he surrendered to the idea that
he was old and must needs be inefficient. Hence at
seventy he asked the General Conference to retire
him. His power to resist physical infirmity was gone
with this conclusion, and the last years of his life were
years of weakness and almost without effort, save in
Sunday-school talks to children. At last he was
gathered ‘as a shock of corn ripe in its season,’ and
left few if any better men behind him.”
526 The Life and Letters of

CHAPTER XV.
AT THE CLOSE.
1866-1871.

E returned home from the General Conference
of 1866 after the conclusion of its session.
~The changes introduced by the new laws were
many, and some of them radical. Lay delegation was
brought in; class-meetings were no longer a test of
membership ; the probation system was overturned ;
a ritual was provided for; the name of the Church
was changed so far as the General Conference could
change it, and the pastoral term was extended to four
years. That this wholesale legislation met the Bish-
op’s idea of what ought to have been done, I cannot
say, but he had long been of opinion that the inner
life of the Church was worth much, the outer form of
but little value.

The Church Treasury was empty, the Book Con-
cern was to be put on its feet, the Missionary Treas-
ury to be replenished, and the large debt to be paid.
Churches which were yet in the hands of those to
whom they ‘had been committed by military order,
were to be recovered. The altar against altar was
now all over the land. Then, too, the reconstruction
acts were passed ; all Southern State Government was
SFames Osgood Andrew. 527

”

overturned and the military rule supreme. In this
hour more than one heart quailed, and more than one
despaired of the future of the Church, but the brave
old Bishop and his colleagues never flinched. They
advised the people to have confidence and trust in
God, and to give steadfast adherence to the princi-
ples of right.

The Bishop was now seventy-two years old. His
mind was clear, and he talked and wrote with the
force of years gone by ; his hand was too tremulous to
write long at a time, but he still used his pen con-
stantly.

He was now relieved of the burdens of official posi-
tion and for the first time since 1832, now nearly forty
years, he had something like rest.

These were days of fierce strife, the noise of bat-
tle-fields gave way, but there was even between good
men bitter contentions. The newspapers were full
of bitter strife, and the war of words was fierce, but
amid it all the saintly old man possessed his soul of
peace. Mr. Rush says: :

“But having determined that his old age should
not be burdened with repentances over improper
words and bitter feelings, he permitted none of these
things to move him. His nature seemed to have been
so perfectly freed from the ‘ dirt and mire’ of sin, that
nothing he saw or heard was able to taint or discolor
the pure stream of love that constantly flowed from
his heart in words and actions. He could not be in-
“duced to speak evil of magistrates and ministers. He
would not return railing for railing. He would de-
nounce sins, but not sinners—for them he prayed.
Sometimes.a bitter newspaper article directed against
528 The Life and Letters of

himself would find its way to his home and stir the
indignation and anger of his family. But gently re-
buking such feelings, he invariably forbade all harsh
criticism of personal character, saying that many of
these things were said in the spirit of partisanship,
and many of the men who wrote thus honestly be-
lieved what they wrote, and that he confidently ex-
pected to greet many of them before long in heaven.
And as for the misrule and wrong that marked the
times, he said God would overrule all that for his own
glory. That the wrath of man should in some way
be made to praise Him ; and that it was neither good
nor profitable for him or any one else to fret him-
self because of evil-doers. His name among his
neighbors was the synonym of goodness and gen-
tleness.

“‘Tt was also necessary for him to settle upon a line
of Christian work suited to his new relation and in-
creasing infirmities. Fifty years of active ministerial
service had fixed mental and bodily habits that could
not be laid aside at once, had it been desirable to do
so. Consequently, he was more than willing, as the
General Conference had requested, as occasions arose,
and his health permitted, to visit Annual, District,
and Quarterly Conferences, and local churches. At
these places he performed with cheerfulness such pul-
pit and other work as he was able, frequently going
beyond his real strength. In 1867 there was a great
abatement of physical power. It was often with dif-
ficulty that he walked about the yard. The standing
position in preaching very much wearied his lower
limbs, and the mental effort made while in this posi-
tion reacted with greater force on his physical system,
Fames Osgood Andrew. _ 529

usually arousing the old trouble to violence. For
this reason he frequently assumed the sitting position
while preaching. But disliking this posture, and be-
ing unable now to think over his sermons before
preaching them, except at the peril of an attack, he
decided to abandon regular sermons and simply to
talk inthe church. He realized fully the difference
between these simple talks and the attractiveness and
power of his sermons of other years, and was also
aware that his old friends were sometimes mortified
at the difference. But he had outlived all ministerial
pride, and in his own heart there was no such feeling
of mortified vanity. This was all he could now do
for the Master, and these simple talks were spoken
with as deep personal comfort as he ever experienced
in preaching great sermons to admiring thousands.

‘« He was exceedingly fond of little children ; their
bright little faces always charmed him. Hence, he
visited the Sunday-schools wherever he went. The
children delighted to listen to his ta/ks, which he al-
ways concluded, first, by asking them to pray for him,
and secondly, by giving them his solemn ‘ God bless
you all.’ Hundreds of these little hearts were praying
for him during his last illness. The class-meeting
was also a place of great pleasure. There he could
sit and tell of the grace of God in his own experience,
and of his bright hopes of immortal life in the very
near future, and listen with pleasure to others’ stories
of conflict and victory. At home he read a great
deal. The Bible, of course, was his favorite book.
He nearly always read from the same copy. He
loved, the Advocates, and especially. the obituary
columns. Reading was a kind of passion with him.

23
530 The Life and Letters of

He read from habit as a pastime, very rapidly, without
much study—read everything that was pure and not
too heavy. But his chiefest delight, his most con-
stant, unfailing pleasure was prayer, and when at
home it was his principal employment. Everything
was the subject of prayer. Whatever concerned him,
he said, concerned his Heavenly Father also, and he
would tell Him about it. Praying was not so much
an act of mere petition as it was an act of free com-
munion, as one friend unrestrained)y communes with
another, or as a child tells its parent all that is in its
heart. He literally talked to God, and it did seem
that God talked back to him, and they two were con-
versing thus all the time.

“Mrs. Andrew was a woman of queenly majesty of
both mind and body. She was a model housekeeper,
exact in time, elegant in appointments, eminently
practical in management. She was a woman, too, of
mighty faith in God, and of great religious character.
They were devoted to each other as husband and
wife. One rarely entered a sweeter or better regu-
lated home than theirs. Everything so comfortable
and so neat—the conversation so cheerful, unrestrained,
intelligent, and pure, and withal, such a constant -
brooding presence of the Divine Spirit sensibly over
all. Drs. Hamilton and Cotton, and others of like
mind and heart, feeling all this, used to say ‘it was
good to be there.’ Inthe autumn of 1868, Mrs. An-
drew fell violently ill with typhoid pneumonia, which
for months held her life in doubtful suspense, and
finally left her with very bad effects upon the brain.
The next year, at the same season, she had agother
attack of similar violence, and it seemed that it would
Fames Osgood Andrew. 531

have been better had her earthly life terminated with
it. But God saw fit to decide otherwise. When this
sickness left her, the brain was in a condition so soft
as to be unable thereafter, in any proper manner, to
perform its natural functions. She retained oly the
knowledge of the Saviour, and had the power of co-
herent thought and expression only on the subject of
her relations with Christ. It was a very remarkable case.
She spoke of Jesus as sweetly and prayed to him as
beautifully as she had ever done. Her bodily strength
in a measure returned, but instead of being to her
husband the unfailing source of comfort and strength
she had hitherto been, she was thenceforward the in-
nocent cause of his greatest earthly care and sorrow.
No greater trial could befall an affectionate husband
than to look daily upon the living wreck of so splendid
a woman, so devoted a wife. Yet he bore even this
with the cheerful fortitude and unmurmuring patience
of ripened Christian faith. No word of complaint
ever fell from his lips. No dark doubt of God’s wis-
dom and goodness ever shaded his soul. In his last
will are these sentences: ‘I here wish to record my
sincere appreciation of the constant love and un-
wearied devotion of my beloved wife to myself, and
of her uniform kindness to my children. To me she
has been a good wife; to them a good mother; and
I trust they will do all they can to make her comfort-
able and happy until God shall call her to himself,’
This calamity kept the Bishop at home more than was
good for his health, for traveling had become almost
a necessity.”

This is a touching picture of the manner in which
these years sped by. He was nearing the end very
532 The Life and Letters of

fast ; getting more and more feeble every day. He
had now lived longer than his father had, and felt more
and more that his days on earth were drawing rapidly
to an end, but he did not, though so feeble and so
incapacitated for effective labor, cease to work. In
the spring of 1867 he went to Louisville, and thence
to St. Louis. The old Bishop was seeking food for
the needy ones in famine-threatened Alabama. He
writes to his wife from St. Louis:

‘«St. Louis, May 6, 1867.
“My Own PRECIOUS WIFE:

‘‘T this morning received your letter. You did not
direct it in anybody’s care, and it had been placed
among the advertized letters, which is the reason I
did not get it sooner.; it should have been directed to
the care of P. M. Pinkard. I received Sallie’s letter
last week, and was grateful for it. I had mailed one
to her before I received hers, but will answer it shortly.
Jimmy has not written me at all. I am not conscious
of having written anything to discourage him. I
wrote to him on my birthday ; hope that both he and
Sallie got my letters, and will answer them shortly.
I wrote you from Meridian, and twice or thrice from
Nashville, and the same from Louisville. I think
I am doing good here. I made arrangements to
get some corn in Louisville, and have the promise
here of two hundred bushels. of corn, which will be
shipped shortly. I think, too, I will get some hay
and meat here, and have them all shipped together.
I hope to give Jimmie some corn and hay if I succeed
in my plans. JI am kept busy here preaching and vis-
iting. The friends here have received me as a mes-
James Osgood Andrew. 533

senger from God, and they say, ‘ the longer you remain
here, the more corn you will get.’ Now, I am re-
solved not to leave this country till my provision ar-
rangements are complete; this has already detained
me here longer than I expected, and may detain me
a week longer, but I long to see my happy home and
the loved ones there, and my present purpose is to
leave for home early next week, but I will let you
know before I start. I preached yesterday to a large
congregation in a spacious and elegant church. We
had considerable feeling, and at the close an old fash-
ioned shout. In the afternoon I attended a general
class-meeting ; we had a good meeting; much talk
about sanctification. Oh, howI wished for you. I
know you would have enjoyed it so much, and I
should have greatly enjoyed the sound of your voice,
mingling with many others, in praising God, and talk-
ing of His goodness. I think there is a good deal
more piety here than in the churches of Alabama.
_Class-meetings are held here, as of old, and our
people, most of them, are neither afraid to say
Amen, nor to shout the praises of God. Well, I
must quit now. May God have you in His holy
keeping.”

There were terrible days in Alabama. So black,
so horrible, that the tale of what they were will hardly
ever be fully told. A war of races would have been
upon the land save that the weaker, but more daring,
race was already worn down with years of weary war
and the ruling spirits were ruled by God. In the
midst of all the old man went on his way, but we can
get a glimpse of those days from the letter which he
wrote to his son-in-law, from Mobile, in 1868:
534 The Life and Letters of

**MoBILE, ALA., February 22, 1868.
‘““My DEAR WESLEY:

‘Several days before I left Summerfield I re-
ceived your affectionate epistle, but as 1 was on the
eve of starting for this place I concluded to wait,
and answer after reaching Mobile. Ihave been here
rather more than a week. I have been cordially re-
ceived by the good people, and hope that my visit
here will not be altogether -useless. My health is not
entirely good. I have been, for a day or two, labor-
‘ing under a severe cold-—was so hoarse yesterday
that I could scarcely talk, and feared that I should
not. be able to fill my appointment at church on Sun-
day ; but I feel rather better to-day, and hope I shall
be able to fill my appointment. We have heard that
the negroes have threatened to lay Marion in ashes.
I hope that there is no cause for the alarm, though
the state of matters in the country will lay us pecu-
liarly liable to have such reports and to believe them.
God have mercy upon us and save us in these days
of threatening peril. I fear that our Congressional
rulers, with their deviltry, will get up war and blood-
shed,

“J almost wish that I was in California now,
and I think I should go if I had the money. But
‘Providence does not seem to open my way to go
there, as it has not furnished me with the means to go.
I think if I ever get the means I shall go there, and
then, of course, I should greatly desire that my chil-
dren should go with’ me. I had some thought of
going to New Orleans, but don’t know whether I
shall go or not. I shall probably decide by Monday,
when I shall finish this letter.
Fames Osgood Andrew. 535

‘‘Monday.—I was able to preach twice yesterday.
I feel pretty well this morning, thanks to a gracious
God. I shall decline going to New Orleans at pres-
ent, and shall, God willing, leave here on Wednesday
evening on the Gertrude. I think I shall visit Marion
very soon after reaching home. I hear a very good
report of you from Sister Stewart; hope God will
make you an instrument of much good there. Oh,
my dear Wesley, aim at that in all your movements,
and God will give you the desire of your heart.
These are days of peril, and of dark and threatening
prospects for our country. Oh, that God, in great
mercy, will send us deliverance in His own good time
and way. Much love and kisses for the dear children.
God bless you all.

“Yours very affectionately.”

The wisdom of his course in New Orleans was mani-
fest. He realized more and more that his task was
done, and he could no longer do the kind of work he
had been engaged in all his life. He gave that up,
and now concerned himself with work for the children,
and a special effort to advance the spiritual interests
of the Church. His presence was everywhere a bene-
diction. He was so gentle, so tender, so genial, that
thousands of homes were gladly opened to him.
While he was at Summerfield his heart often turned
toward these hospitable homes, and in his trembling
hand he wrote to the inmates. George W. Williams
of Charleston had long been his friend. He was an
enterprising merchant, the brother-in-law of Bishop
Wightman, and afterward the son-in-law of Bishop An-
drew’s old parishioner, John A. Porter, of Madison,
536 The Life and Letters of

Ga. The letter, as simple as it is, gives a little in-
sight into the way in.which he turned toward his old
friends. The young correspondent alluded to was
George W. Williams, Jr., a little boy who had been
taught to love the old Bishop, and who had writ-
ten him some letters. He was now a good sized lad,
and the Bishop wrote him also.

‘ SUMMERFIELD, November 8, 1869.
“My DEAR BROTHER WILLIAMS:

“It has been a long time since I heard from you
and yours, except when I read in the Advocate your
Nacoochie sketches, which, by the way, interested
me very greatly, so that I wished much you had con-
tinued them. Well, how do you and the wife and the
children come on? By the way how many have you
now, and how does my little correspondent, George W.,
Jr.,come on? Iam sorry he tired of my correspond-
ence so early; hope he may be induced some day to
renew it.

“TI long to see old Charleston once more, and I pro-
pose, if God will, to spend the Sabbath before Con-
ference in your city, and go on from there in company
with some of you to Conference ; and now I want you
to attend to a small matter of business, I want you to
subscribe for the Rural Carolinian for me; direct to
me here. I love to encourage, as far as practicable,
Southern literature. Pay the subscription and I’ll pay
you when I see you, or send it to you by some of the
preachers. I must close, as my trembling hand ad-
monishes me to quit. Much love to your good wife
and a blessing to each of your children.”
Fames Osgood Andrew. 537

To GEO. W. WILLIAMS, Jr.

‘¢ SUMMERFIELD, March 14, 1870.
‘‘ My DEAR YOUNG FRIEND :

‘“You don’t know how much good your letter, re-
ceived the other day, did me. Yes, it did me much
good, and I write this answer hoping you may be
pleased to write again. I will try to answer all your
letters, though my answers may be short. I love
young people very much anyhow, and J love you and
all your father’s family. I have known him and loved
him, for lo! these many years, and of course feel a
deep interest in his children. I admired your father,
because in early days hé gave his heart to God and
was not ashamed to own his Saviour and Redeemer,
Because of his noble self-reliance, and when his efforts
to acquire wealth were successful, instead of hoarding
up his gains, he remembered that he was God’s stew-
ard, gave liberally to good causes, and when God
caused his prosperity to increase, he still did not
forget the high and holy obligation of his steward-
ship.

“‘Now, my dear George, imitate your father’s ex-
ample, and your prosperity will be sure. First of all,
honor God in everything. Ask yourself, ‘Will this,
that I am about to do, please God, my Heavenly
Father?’ Be careful in the selection of your friends, as
wicked associates will do you much harm before you
are aware. Therefore, avoid all evil counselors; the |
same is true of books, which are frequently the most in-
fluential companions. I think I need not advise you to
love, honor, and obey your parents, for I think you will

23°
538 The Life and Letters of

do that without any urging, and now, for one of the
most important advices I can give, love the truth and
scorn every false way, abide by the truth, though it
may bring you present trouble; still, remember that
God is truth and will own and bless those most fully
and certainly, who honor Him by following His ex-
ample. Improve your time. Remember, that time
wasted never can be called back for improvement.

“Once more, George, your father is a prosperous
‘man, and you have the prospect of beginning life with
the promise of ease and wealth. Take care, George,
misfortunes may visit your house, your father’s busi-
ness may possibly fail, and you be thrown upon your
own resources ; prepare now in prosperity for those
days of darkness, which may possibly come; but I
must close. Much love to your dear father and
mother, and dear little Sallie.

“Yours very affectionately,
“JAMES O. ANDREW.”

The General Conference was near at hand. He had
hardly hoped to be able to attend its session ; but,
though quite feeble, he made the effort. He had at-
tended every General Conference for fifty years.
There was no man in the body who had been for so
many consecutive years a member. He found him-
self surrounded by the children of his old friends.
For the first time the laymen had been brought in.
The Bishops were Andrew, Paine, Pierce, Kavanagh,
Wightman, McTyiere, and Doggett, and during the
session Keener was elected. The session was an ex-
citing one. The old question of the location of the
Publishing House was again opened, and on the ex-
Fames Osgood Andrew. 539

tension of the pastorate the debate was very warm
and sometimes sharp. The old man had no heart for
strife and these bickerings were not pleasant to him.
He was feeble anyhow, but during this Conference
was unusually unwell. One day, after a discussion on
a change in the discipline, he made the following re-
marks :

‘«T don’t expect to take up much time—not half as
much as you have wasted in quarreling over that reso-
lution, and then indefinitely postponing it. I am glad
that it has been done, however. Now, I want to say
a few things to you. I have been attending your pres-
ent session, and it has afforded me much pleasure. I
have met many of my old friends, and they have
pressed my hands warmly, and made me feel very
happy. And now we are going to separate. My
mind has been burdened when I have Jooked on this
large body of preachers and lay brethren, and I have
thought, Have you sought the glory of God more
than your own? Have you considered this in all
your speeches, and talks, and reports? And now an-
other point. You are now about to depart. Many of
us will never meet again. Shall we go away and carry
with us the flame of revival, and show that the Gen-
eral Conference has been a season of reviving influ-
ences? Your people will soon see it if this is the
case.

‘‘T have been gratified, as well as sorry, to hear some
of your debates, I am glad that we have been conserva-
tive enough to reject a great many things that have been
presented. I feel as if I were delivering my last
charge. Many years ago it was my habit to deliver
an address at the close of Conference. It is not now
540 The Life and Letters of

under similar circumstances. I am about to leave you.
Farewell! That word comes with sadness from my
heart. Ill never see many of you any more. I want
you to remember the old man. I want you to pray for
the old Bishop. I think I can say with Paul, ‘I have
coveted no man’s silver or gold.’ I have not aimed at
my own glory. I have always gone wherever I have
been sent. I can appeal to my colleagues to say
whether I have ever flinched. When I went into the
work I considered that I had given myself up to God,
and had no right to choose where I should go. That's
the spirit of the itineracy. No man is fit for it who
has not laid all on God’s altar. If you are seeking
and clamoring for good places, what will the people
say of you? Now, perhaps, I hear more than you
do, and I have been pained at some things which
have come to my ears. You have no right to choose
your own work. Now, some preachers want to be
Bishop. If you want comfort and honor you had bet-
ter be where you are. If the Church calls you, then
go; but woe be to him who thrusts himself into a po-
sition to which God has not called him. I remember
well the last charge of the venerable Bishop McKen-
dree to me. We were coming down from Philadelphia
just after I had been elected bishop. I said to him
that the Conference had laid on me a work for which
I was not prepared, and had no experience whatever ;
and I asked him to please give me some advice. He
said: ‘James,.I have not much to say, but I will say,’
and I want you bishops to hear it, ‘never shrink
from responsibility; for remember that by this
you assume the most fearful of all responsibilities.’ I
have thought of that ever since. To you, preachers, I
Fames Osgood Andrew. 541

would say, you know I love you all, and, as an old
man, I take the liberty of catechising you a little.
Many of you are young men, and I pray you to con-
secrate your hearts and lives to the work of Christ.
Don’t be afraid of not being provided for. This Book
(with his hand on the Bible) provides for you. A
California missionary once said to me, ‘God has so
often interposed in my behalf that I do not feel con-
cerned at all, for I know that God will take care of
me.’
“‘Go forward and do your duty. The Duke of
Sully once said to Henry IV., ‘You treat your old
servants badly. You appoint those who are not
your friends to places where they receive large sal-
aries, and leave your old friends out.’ The King
said to him, ‘Don’t be uneasy, I'll take care of you
and yours.’ Let us trust in God. I have been trav-
eling sixty years. I remember the venerable Dr.
Pierce when the Bishop was a baby. I thought at
that time he wouldn’t live long. But here he is be-
fore me in a wonderful state of mental and physical
activity. God bless the old man! I have always
sustained an intimate relation to the Bishop. God
bless you, George! I rejoice at your triumph, and
pray that you may live long. Now, brethren, forgive
the old man for talking so long. God bless you and
yours! I love you all; and when you go away pray
that, up yonder, I may stand with those who have
labored with me on earth.”

The following resolutions were offered, read, and
adopted by a rising vote:

‘* Resolved, 1. That the presence and counsels of our
beloved senior Bishop, the Rev. James O. Andrew, at
542 The Life and Letters of

this Conference, have been a source of great pleasure
and comfort to the members of this body.

‘©2. That we separate from him, after hearing per-
haps his last words, with fervent prayer, and hope
that his declining years may be full of joy, and that
his dying hour may be radiant with the light of im-
mortality.

“J. B. MCFERRIN,
«‘THos. O. SUMMERS,”

This was his last talk to a General Conference. It
was like him, simple, fervent, and affectionate. He
was near the end; the sun of his earthly life had al-
most gone down, but there was nothing tempestuous
in the sky. No racking pains, no painful giving way
of mind, but a gentle, almost imperceptible giving
way of body. Brother Rush, who has contributed
so kindly and so largely to this chapter, tells the story
of these last years, and although we have anticipated
a little, we will give it as he tells it :

“ The last two years of his life were marked by very
rapid loss of strength and increase of infirmities.
Symptoms of paralysis, which had hitherto been fee-
ble, now became threatening at times, affecting his
tongue as well as his limbs, and the old disease fre-
quently became uncontrollable. The meaning of all
this he perfectly understood. Yet it affected his spirits
not in the least. He continued the same sweet spirited
cheerful old man, just waiting on the margin of the
river to be called into the stream, perfectly assured
that the crossing would be safe, and that on the other
side were eternal life and health. He attended the
General Conference in Memphis in 1870, and was de-
Famcs Osgood Andrew. 543

lighted with the working of the lay element in that
body. But the excitement and fatigue were too
much. It became necessary for him in the summer
to seek the air and water of the granite region of
Georgia. He reached Oxford in time for the com-
mencement, and spent the remainder of the summer
in the neighborhood with his son-in-law, Mr. T. M.
Merriwether. He was extremely feeble. While there
he made his last will and testament, two or three
paragraphs of which so perfectly reflect the man that
they may with propriety be copied into this place:
‘My silver watch, given to me by my old friend Lewis
Myers, I wish my son-in-law, Rev. J. W. Rush, to
have and to keep as a relic of a faithful Itinerant
Methodist Preacher. . . . . This, I believe, is
all the property I have to dispose of. In early life I
devoted myself to the ministry of the gospel of Jesus,
and have had no time to accumulate wealth. But I
trust I leave my children an untarnished reputation,
and have good hope, through grace, of resting with
God in Heaven when the pilgrimage of life is ended.

If practicable, I desire to be buried in the
graveyard of Oxford, Ga., that my dust may rest with
the kindred dust that sleeps already there,’ ”

Of this visit to Oxford Bishop Wightman says:

“« The last time I was permitted to see his venerable
form was at the commencement of Emory College, in
July of last year. He was able to take no part in the
exercises of the occasion, béyond occupying a seat on
the rostrum, and dropping in occasionally at the meet-
ings of the Trustees. To the last this clear-sighted
man feit the value to the church of her institutions of
learning. To the cause of education, under the auspices
544 The Life and Letters of

of the church, he had given all along the support of
his influence and the aid of his counsels. He lived to
see schools, colleges, and universities established in
number sufficient to meet the wants of the whole con-
nection. And now, at this last commencement he was
ever to attend, there was a class of more than twenty
graduates, each one a member of the church, and
several of the most distinguished preparing for the
ministry. Contrasting this with the state of things
when he began to preach, must he not have felt the
throb of a mighty joy?”

Merriwether, after his return from a blessed camp-
meeting, in which a number of his grandchildren had
béen converted, writes him and he replies:

‘* SUMMERFIELD, ALA., October 21, 1870.
“My DEAR THOMAS:

‘““Your very welcome letter reached me two or
three days since. I thank you for it. Go and do
likewise pretty shortly. Oh! how have I repented
not being there. Thanks be to God for the visitation
of His grace, bringing to the memory of the Church
everywhere those golden days when camp-meetings
were being glorified before the people, and when
class-meetings were popular throughout the Church.
Well, God is good, glory be to His holy name. My
health, since I left you,.has been fluctuating. At
present I feel that I improve in strength, though it’s
precarious yet. I'll praise Him for what is past and
trust Him for all that’s to come.”

Mr. Rush says:
‘He returned home in the fall, somewhat recuper-
ated, but feeling that the time of his departure was
Fames Osgood Andrew. 545

now near at hand. He consequently wished to have
everything in readiness. He gave me his own official
seal with those of Bishops Soule, McKendree, and As-
bury, and also that of Mr. Wesley, to be delivered at
his death to Bishop Paine. Ido not know that he
valued these seals as at all evidences of the legitimacy
of Southern Methodism, but suppose that he cherished
them simply as mementoes of good and great men.
Mrs. Andrew was still more helpless, and his daugh-
ter Sarah, who, in addition to the general business of
housekeeping, had had for more than two years the
constant care of her mother, was wearied almost to
complete exhaustion. The burden was too heavy,
she could not longer bear it alone. She must be re-
lieved. So it was agreed, after a family consultation,
that the Bishop should attend Conference and state
the whole case to Bishop McTyiere, the president,
and ask him to fix my appointment for the next year,
so that my wife could live in the house and help her
sister bear the burden. With this purpose and to see
the brethren once more, he went up to Montgomery,
the seat of the Conference. Here he made his last
address to a body of preachers. Exhorting them to
be pure and grave in speech, to cultivate the spirit of
personal piety, to avoid secular sympathies and po-
litical complications, to devote themselves solely to
the ministry of the gospel; and giving them his ‘ God
bless you all,’ he bade them farewell. Bishop Mc-
Tyiere was spoken to about the appointment, but in-
stead of sending us to Summerfield, he sent us to Mo-
bile, one hundred and fifty miles farther away. This was
avery great disappointment to Bishop Andrew, for it
broke up what he thought were his completed arrange-
546 The Life and Letters of

ments for dying. Yet he instantly and cheerfully ac-
quiesced, saying that although he did not see why the
Bishop had thus decided, still he knew that Bishops
often did wise things that nobody understood at the
time but themselves, and had no doubt that the whole
affair would work out right. And so it did. For it
proved in the end a far better arrangement for dying
than he himself had made. He arranged to die at
home, attended by his children, his grandchildren,
and his near neighbors. But Bishop McTyiere ar-
ranged that the veteran warrior should lay aside his
armor in a tent on the field, surrounded by other
veterans and younger soldiers as well as by his affec-
tionate family.

“Returning home, he settled all his accounts for
the year, and early in January with his wife went on
to Mobile, intending to spend the spring in that place,
thus giving Sarah an opportunity for the rest she so
much needed. He slept well, his appetite was good,
his friends were rejoiced to see him improve rapidly
in flesh and strength. He preached in thé churches,
talked in the Sunday-schools, attended class-meetings,
and visited his old friends. It was a bright season in
the old man’s life, which he enjoyed exceedingly, and
which was prolonged bya visit to the city of New
Orleans. He went over alone, leaving Mrs. Andrew
in Mobile, and stopped at the house of his dear friend,
Dr. Moss. From this house, as his temporary home,
he visited other friends, and went to church and Sun-
day-school. And in this house, at half-past four
o’clock on the night of Tuesday, February 21st, he
heard the certain call of the Master. He was struck
with paralysis, which at once rendered helpless the
Fames Osgood Andrew. 547

entire left side. When his condition was made known
in the city, many friends called to see him. These he
received with words of greeting and with a spirit of
cheerfulness, just such as would have characterized
him had he been in usual health and sitting in the par-
lor. He had made every arrangement for death, and
it mattered not where or when the event should take
place. The power of articulation was not altogether
destroyed by the first stroke, nor was it completely
lost until the day before his death. On Wednes-
day I went over after him. On entering the room
his greeting was very cheerful, though he expressed
the conviction that his time was just at hand. Before
starting with him to the Mobile train, Bishop Keener,
with the New Orleans preachers, entered the room to
bid him farewell.

“‘ Prayer was proposed, and while Bishop Keener
was reading the fifth chapter of Romans, Bishop An-
drew would frequently say, ‘ What a delightful prom-
ise!’ ‘ What a glorious truth!’ and when the verse
was reached which reads, ‘For if when we were
enemies,’ etc., ‘that,’ said he, ‘ was a favorite text of
of Dr. Olin’s,’ and added afterward, ‘the Doctor said
he thought the death of Christ was inexpressibly
precious, yet, if possible, the thought of the life of
Christ was even more so.’ One of the preachers re-
peated the lines :

« Jesus can make a dying bed
Feel soft as downy pillows are ;’

when Bishop Andrew immediately added :

‘ When on his breast I lean my head
And breathe my life out sweetly there.’
548 The Life and Letters of

Bishop Keener led in one of those inimitable prayers
of his own, Bishop Andrew responding now and then
audibly, with a hearty, ‘Amen!’

““That afternoon he was transferred to the parson-
age in Mobile without the slightest manifestation of
mental anxiety or bodily pain. The friends in Mobile
suffered him-not to lack a moment for any aid love or
money could give. Visitors were admitted to his
presence, for he retained his power of thought and
speech, and was entirely free from suffering. To his
sorrowing family, wife, children, and grandchildren,
he spoke words of comfort and of cheer. On all sub-
jects upon which he spoke at all during his sickness,
his words were as easy and natural as if he had had no
thought of death. So far as any one observed, his
present condition made not the slightest change in the
spirit and temper of his mind. In the grasp of death he
was the same man, feeling, thinking, and talking just as
he would have done had he been in perfect health, in
the pulpit, in the class-room or at the fireside—a perfect
illustration of the New Testament doctrine of death.

“Thinking he might have some directions to give
about some special matters, or that he might wish to
send some message to particular friends, and desiring
to execute his every wish while consciousness was yet
clear and speech sufficient ; I asked him if he had any-
thing of this sort to say. In reply he said: ‘I wish
you to tell the Bishops I would like to meet them in
May, but cannot, for I am fully persuaded my time is
at hand; that I have in them the fullest confidence,
and die rejoicing that God has put the Church under
their care and superintendency; that they must live
in peace and harmony, as they have always done,
Fames Osgood Andrew. 549

Tell the preachers to follow the word of God, and the
Discipline where we are exhorted to be serious. They
meet at Conference and backslide instead of growing
in grace. This is owing largely to the foolish habit of
jesting. Tell them I love them, and to be steadfast,
unmovable, always abounding in the work of the
Lord, forasmuch as they know that their labor is not
in vain in the Lord. Tell all the Church I feel I have
lived very imperfectly, but my hope and confidence is
in God, and I hope to meet them in heaven. Give
Bishop Pierce my love; tell him to travel through the
Church as he has done, and God will bless the work.
Tell the preachers not to neglect the Sunday-school.
The children are an important part of the Church.
The words of the Master are, ‘‘ Feed my lambs.” ’

‘““He then requested to be buried in Oxford, and
that Bishop Pierce be asked to preach his funeral
sermon, ‘ But,’ he added, ‘I want you to let no parade
be made over me whenI am gone.’ [afterward asked
him if he had his life to go over, what change, if any,
he would make. He answered, ‘ None, but to try to
be more faithful.’ The day before he died, when asked
how he felt, he answered, ‘ Bless God, all is well!”
Later in the evening his lips were seen moving and
he was asked, ‘What did you say, Bishop?’ ‘ Vic-
tory ! Victory!’ The last words he ever spoke were
to Mary Rush, his little granddaughter, in response
to her good-night kiss: ‘God bless you all!’ That
night he became unconscious and speechless, and his
breathing was very hard and labored. This contin-
ued so till near the last, when the action of his lungs
gradually subsided to a low soft motion, and he died
sweetly and calmly.

.
550 The Life and Letters of

“ After death his features assumed a cast so regular,
benignant, and youthful, as to be noticed by every
one who saw him. Bishop Keener, observing it, ex-
claimed, ‘ How beautiful is death!’ Not a trace of
care or sorrow or pain was visible in his face, which now
beamed with a mingled expression of dignity and good-
ness. His death occurred at twenty minutes past
eleven P.M., March 1, 1871, in the Franklin Street
Parsonage, Mobile, in the presence of Bishop Keener,
Dr. A. S. Andrews, Revs. H. R. Urquhart, Jr., E.
Foust, R. M. Powers, J. C. Spence, N. Morris, be-
sides his two daughters, Sarah and Octavia, his wife,
and Rev. J. W. Rush and his children, and William
Otis, with,other beloved friends.

‘Funeral ceremonies were held in Mobile in the
following order: Ist. The reading of the introductory
service, and hymn 729: ‘ Why do we mourn depart-
ing friends,” by Bishop J. C. Keener. 2d. Prayer by
Rev. J. C. Spence. 3d. The nineteenth psalm, fif-
teenth chapter of 1st Corinthians, by Rev. H.R. Ur-
quhart. 4th. Address by Bishop Keener. 5th. Ad-
dress by Dr. Andrews. 6th. ‘I heard a voice, etc.,’
and the Collect, by Rev. J. E. Foust. 7th. 739th
hymn, ‘ Servant of God, well done,’ by Dr. Andrews.
8th. Benediction by Bishop Keener.

‘Mr. William Otis and Dr. A. S. Andrews lovingly
volunteered to accompany his remains to Oxford, Ga.,
the place of interment. Leaving Mobile on Friday
night, we reached the residence of Mr. Merriwether on
Saturday night, and at twelve o’clock of the day fol-
lowing, which was the Sabbath, entered the Oxford
church with his coffined remains. The house was
filled with a congregation of his old friends and neigh-

-
Fames Osgood Andrew. 551

bors, who came with sad hearts and tearful faces to
gaze for the last time upon the face of one whom they
had often heard as an apostle of God, and whom they
tenderly loved as a spiritual father. The services, in-
troduced by Dr. W. H. Potter, were participated in
by other ministers present. Dr. Andrews, of Mobile ;
Rev. William J. Parks, of Georgia; Rev. William
Martin, of South Carolina; Rev. Albert Gray, of
Georgia; and Dr. L. M. Smith, President of Emory
College, all paid eloquent and touching tributes to the
virtues and worth of this departed Prince of Israel.
After services at the church were concluded, the con-
gregation were indulged with a last look at their beloved
Bishop’s face, which was, till then, very slightly discol-
ored by decay. The corpse was then borne to the
village graveyard, the burial service read by Dr. An-
drews, and then, beside the dust of his dear Amelia
and their children, his body was laid to rest.”

On February 18th, three days before he was stricken,
he wrote his last letter. It was to his precious wife.
Poor, afflicted, yet happy woman, her mind was bright
enough to appreciate these words of love from her af-
fectionate husband :

‘“NEw ORLEANS, February 18, 1871.
‘““My PRECIOUS WIFE:

“*T received your letter yesterday ; was glad to hear
from you, and to hear you were still doing well, body
and soul. I wrote you a day or two since. I have
continued pretty well, and have continued to receive
all sorts of church attention from the people. I hope
my visit here will not be entirely unproductive of
good to the church,
552 The Life and Letters of

‘‘T addressed the Sunday-school at length here last
Sunday, and hope that some of the seed will be pro-
ductive. Next Sabbath I expect to be at Felicity
Street Church. The preachers have all called on me.
I think they love me. May God make my visit a
blessing to them. I think I have enjoyed much of
the peaceful presence of God since I have been here.
I want to see you all very much, and you are never
forgotten by me in my approaches to the throne of
the heavenly mercy. God Almighty bless you abun-
dantly, my own Emily. Write to me again very often.
Much love to all the Parsonage family.

*‘ Yours very devotedly,
““JaMES O. ANDREW.”

When he returned to Mobile, stricken unto death,
as all men knew, the noble-hearted Stewards in New
Orleans, through their faithful pastor, sent him, by
Bishop Keener, the following letter and its enclosure :

‘$227 ST. JOSEPH STREET, NEw ORLEANS,
“February 28, 1871.

“My DEAR BISHOP :

‘‘T have the honor and privilege of being able to
send you the enclosed check for $200, a small contri-
bution from our Board of Stewards to any necessities
that may be pressing you at this time, and offered
more as a faint testimonial of our profound esteem
and sincere affection for you.

‘“‘The proposition to make up the amount came
from one of the Stewards at our meeting last night,
and was immediately and most cheerfully responded
to by all.
Fames Osgood Andrew. 553

‘Trusting that the remittance may not be unac-
ceptable to you, I am, my dear Bishop,
‘“‘Vour affectionate son,
“Ww. V. TUDOR.
““P.S.—Hope that this may find you improved in
health and rejoicing in spirit—W. V. T.”

It was a timely gift, but there was a dear brother,
William Otis, in Mobile, who, realizing what it meant,
begged the privilege of discharging that office, and
took all the funeral expenses upon himself and accom-
panied the body to Oxford as one of the mourning
friends.

His last letter was a few short words to his
daughter Sarah, expressive of his deep love for her
and great gratitude for the way in which she had
nursed him and his afflicted wife. The last news-
paper article he ever wrote was written while he was
in New Orleans, and is published elsewhere in this
volume.

Bishop Pierce received the request of his dear old
friend, and replied in his usual style:

“Sparta, March 3, 1871.
““My DEAR BROTHER:

“Received your letter last night. I had seen the
account of the old Bishop’s affliction. Well, he is
ready, full of days and full of faith. Oh, may I tri-
umph so. If alive, tell him his love is a balm, and
will be a precious memory to me. Tell him, too, that
I expect to work on to the end, and hope to see him
and be with him in heaven.

‘‘As to the funeral sermon, will try to meet his

24
554 The Life and Letters of

wish, but if he dies in a few days will have to post-
pone the service for two or three weeks. I am just
starting for ‘the Baltimore Conference. Love to all
from Ann and me, .
“ A ffectionately,
‘(G0 F. PIERCE.”

As he had requested, they bore him to Oxford to
lay him in the vacant spot between his Amelia and
Leonora, and near by Elizabeth and Hennie. The
Southern Christian Advocate published the following
account of these obsequies from the graceful pen of
Dr. J. O. A. Clark:

‘‘ BURIAL OF BISHOP ANDREW.

‘The first Sunday in March, 1871, will long be
remembered in Oxford. It was on that day the
remains of Bishop James Osgood Andrew, the Senior
Bishop of the Methodist Episcopal Church South,
were deposited in our village graveyard.

“¢ About the middle of the previous week the hearts
of this community were saddened by the news that
our’ beloved and venerated Senior Bishop was lying
at Mobile at the point of death. We were not sur-
prised, therefore, to hear on Friday that the sad event
so certainly anticipated had taken place. With the
announcement of his death came the intelligence that
his remains would be brought to Oxford for inter-
ment; that the funeral services would be celebrated
on the first Sabbath, in the village church; and that
Bishop Pierce was expected to be present and preach
the funeral sermon of his departed colleague.

“The Sabbath came. The morning was one of
Fames Osgood Andrew. 555

peculiar loveliness and beauty—calm, peaceful, cloud-
less, smiling, and laden with the first reviving breath
of Spring. It was the loveliest day of this new year.
At the appointed hour for worship, the villagers, the
professors and students of Emory College were gather-
ing at the house of God. Notwithstanding the short
notice given, many came from the surrounding coun-
try and from Covington. When the writer arrived,
the house was already well filled; without were many
awaiting the coming of the funeral train. After a
while the procession was seen at some distance, wind-
ing its slow length along the narrow and crooked lane
through which it had to approach the village. The
body was brought from the house of Brother Merri-
wether, one of the good Bishop’s sons-in-law, who
lives about three miles from here. In the funeral
train were the family of the Bishop, the delegation
from the Alabama Conference, the delegation from
the South Carolina Conference, the Presiding Elder
of this District, the preacher in charge of this circuit,
and many of the church and congregation who wor-
ship at Shiloh. The slow and measured notes of the
tolling bell soon announced that the cortege~was
drawing nigh. Arrived at the church, the pall-bearers
took up the body and bore it within, preceded by
Brother Potter, the Presiding Elder, repeating the
ritual for the burial of the dead, beginning with, ‘I
am the resurrection and the life,’ and followed by all
who had not already secured seats. Slowly and
sadly, amid tears and weeping, the precious remains
of our dear old Bishop and beloved Father in Israel
were borne up one of the aisles, and deposited in the
chancel—or rather, to use a word dearer and more
a

550 The Life and Letters of

familiar to Methodists, within the a/tar—directly be-
neath the pulpit from which, in other days, the Bishop
had so often and so eloquently preached the word of
life to the hungry multitudes that hung upon his lips.

“The obsequies of the first Sunday in March can
never be forgotten by those who witnessed them.
The impressions of those solemn hours when we list-
ened, and felt, and wept, and vowed, and prayed at
the funeral rites in honor of the lamented dead, will
survive the grave. A death-like stillness pervaded
the large assembly—such sadness was on every coun-
tenance as alone is felt when we feel that some great
calamity has befallen us. And yet it was a sadness
hallowed and mellowed by the thought that the old
man, after having performed all his Master’s work,
and having performed it wisely and well, full of years
and full of honors, had, like a ripe shock of wheat,
been gathered into his Master’s garner.

“‘It was a disappointment to us all that Bishop
Pierce was not present, as was expected, to conduct
the solemnities and preach the sermon. A telegram
had been sent to him, but, no doubt, failed to reach
his home before he left to attend the Baltimore Con-
ference. But, much as we regretted our diSappoint-
ment, this regret was soon forgotten in the impressive,
solemn, and interesting services which attended the
occasion. Brother Potter, conducting the exercises,
began with the lessons in the Order of the Burial of
the Dead. The ninetieth Psalm and the fifteenth
chapter of Ist Corinthians never, it seems to me,
sounded more sweetly and appropriately. The feel-
ings of many were in unison with the Psalmist, who,
complaining of human fragility, divine chastisements,
Fames Osgood Andrew. 557

and brevity of life, yet prayeth for the knowledge and
sensible experience of God’s good providence ; and
with the Apostle also, who, confident of Christ’s tri-
umph over death, and resurrection from the dead, ex-
ultingly shouted, ‘O death, where is thy sting? O
grave, where ts thy victory ?’ Montgomery’s beauti-
ful hymn on the ‘funeral of an aged minister’ was
then plaintively sung, the whole congregation joining
in the singing, and feeling how appropriate to the
aged Bishop were these words:

‘Servant of God, well done!
“Rest from thy loved employ :
The battle fought, the victory won,
Enter thy Master’s joy.’

‘When these plaintive strains had died away, Bro-
ther Andrews, of Francis Street Church, Mobile, who
accompanied the remains to Georgia, and who was
with the Bishop repeatedly during his last days on
earth, arose and addressed the listening, weeping con-
gregation. Our Alabama brother, feelingly and with
great simplicity, gave us some account of the Bishop’s
last sojourn in Mobile. The Bishop’s labors in the
pulpit, in the Sabbath-school, and around the fireside,
were peculiarly sweet and pathetic, reminding the
speaker of the ‘disciple whom Jesus loved,’ who, in
his old age, and with his flock gathered about him,
was wont to say, ‘ Little children, love one another.’
After speaking of his calm, peaceful, happy death, the
speaker next repeated the messages of the dying Bishop
to his colleagues, to the ministry, and to the whole
church. As these messages will, no doubt, be given
to the public, we can only allude to them, Brother
558 The: Life and Letters of

Andrews concluded his remarks with a happy allusion
to the many old comrades of the Bishop who had
gone ahead, and who, no doubt, greeted him on the
other shore.

“The next speaker was Rev. William J. Parks—
‘Uncle Billy,’ as we love to call him—himself a vet-
eran of the cross, and the companion in arms of the
sainted dead. Between him and Andrew there had
been an intimacy of more than forty years. Touch-
ingly did he allude to the labors of the Bishop
throughout his long, eventful career ; he bore witness
to his great ability as a preacher, and his wisdom asa
General Superintendent. Never had he known a
more holy or devoted man of God. And especially
did he bear testimony to the noble heroism, the sub-
lime virtue, the perfect simplicity, the gentleness, the
humility, the patience, the serenity of Bishop Andrew
in the trying times of 1844. Even the preachers of
the North admired the man and the Christian minister.
Not a word was spoken against his private, ministerial,
or official character. They condemned the relation
which he sustained to slavery, not the man whom
they owned as a brother beloved. As a preacher of
the word, ‘ Uncle Billy’ regarded Bishop Andrew as
one of the ablest the church in these days has pro-
duced. *He characterized him as the ‘great camp-
meeting preacher’—that no man could produce more
wonderful results at a camp-meeting. He told us
that the last thing he read from the Bishop's pen was
an earnest appeal to the church in favor of the revival
of camp-meetings.

‘‘When Brother Parks sat down, Rev. Wm. Mar-
tin, of the South Carolina Conference, arose and ad-
Fames Osgood Andrew. 559

\

dressed us. Brother Martin first saw Bishop Andrew
at the South Carolina Conference in 1830. At that
time Brother Martin joined the Conference on trial.
Bishop Andrew, then a traveling preacher in that
Conference, was Chairman of the Committee by which
he was examined. The impressions he there formed
of the men were ‘‘ burnt into his very constitution,”
and the advice and godly counsels of the Bishop, and
his remarks upon the administration of the Discipline
of the church, have followed him through all his min-
isterial life, and been of inestimable service to him.
He spoke most eloquently of the Bishop’s influence
in South Carolina. He had been in cities and over
churches where the Bishop had been stationed. And
wherever he had been, the poor of the church and
community loved the memory of the Bishop. The
poor were always warm and eloquent in his praise.
They had always found in him a friend and comforter.
Nor was this all. To none was the Bishop more dear
than to the colored people. Among them his labors
were always abundant. They loved him as they loved
no other preacher. In the trying hours of 1844, none
rallied around him more devotedly and affectionate-
ly than the colored brethren whom he had served.
They were all for ‘Mas. Andrew.’ The speaker had
been at many death-bed scenes among the colored
people of South Carolina. Again and again had he
heard the dying testimony of their love and reverence
for ‘Mas. Andrew.’ On the bed of death, in the
class-room, and at the love-feast, had he heard them
again and again, with tears of joy and gratitude,
ascribe their conversion to the preaching of ‘ Mas.
Andrew’ in the pulpit and in the cabin. The brother
560 The Life and Letters of

from Mobile had made reference to the old comrades
who greeted the Bishop on the banks of happy deliv-
erance. Among them would be found thousands of
colored brethren, both men and women, saved from
death through the blessing of God upon his labors.

‘‘When the writer of this returned home, his old
cook-woman, who was present at the funeral, and
who had long known the Bishop and was a member
of his family, remarked, ‘ How true was all that the
South Carolina brother had said about Bishop An-
drew’s labors among the colored people.’

“Rev. Albert Gray, preacher in charge of this cir-
cuit, next gave us a brief account of his acquaintance
with the Bishop. He had known him intimately for
twenty years—when a student in Emory College, he
had boarded in the family of Bishop Andrew. He
owed everything valuable to the influence and godly
advice of this man of God, who has just been taken
away from us. Bishop Andrew had often been a
guest at his own board. Among his most valuable
reminiscences were these visits of the good Bishop.
His prayers for the family would never be forgotten.
The Bishop always accompanied his ‘ good-by’ with
‘God bless you, Albert.’

“Dr. L. M. Smith, President of Emory College,
next paid an eloquent and touching tribute to the
worth and virtues of the great Prince and Leader,
who had just fallen. In the judgment of Dr. Smith,
Bishop Andrew, in his palmy days, was the ablest
gospel preacher of the age. In the sweep of his im-
agination he was more than Shakespearean and Mil-
tonic. And while this was so, he was beautifully
simple and gentle. He had known him intimately in
Fanes Osgood Andrew. 561

all the relations of life—he too had, in his college days
at Emory, been a member of the Bishop’s household.
He gladly and cheerfully confessed that for whatever
of good there was in him, he was more indebted to
Bishop Andrew than to any other man living or dead.
And to his faithful ministrations in the pulpit, and to
his fatherly advice in private and around the family
circle, he owed his own conversion to the faith as it is
in Jesus. The eloquent Doctor concluded with a
glowing reference to the glorious band of redeemed
souls, who, saved through Bishop Andrew’s instru-
mentality, should follow after him, to be greeted by
him, when they too shall have safely crossed the flood.

“ Brother Potter concluded with a brief reference to
the Bishop’s connection with Emory College. Oxford
was the spot he loved dearest on earth. Emory Col-
lege, of which from its foundation down to his death,
he had been an honored Trustee, was nearest to his
heart. Therefore in Oxford he wished his mortal re-
mains to rest, side by side with the loved ones whom
he had buried there.”

My work is done. I have already passed the limit
which I had set for myself, and am obliged to omit
many of his letters, and especially the kind and af-
fectionate tributes of his friends. I regret this much.
Drs. McFerrin, Summers, Mitchell, Cunnyngham,
and others, at my instance, made contributions to
these pages which I am obliged to leave out. I re-
gret this, and I regret: especially the necessary omis-
sion of his many touching and beautiful letters to his
children, but I have already gone as far as I judge

best.
24*
562 Fames Osgood Andrew.

It is needless for me to add anything of my own.
The man stands before the reader; he can judge of
him with his own eye.

I doubt whether I could be impartial. The man
who was my grandfather’s companion in the ministry,
who was my mother’s pastor, who was my father’s
life-long friend, and who was to me as a father always,
could not be, perhaps, justly estimated by me. May
those to whom this book is dedicated, those who take
up the work he left off, catch the inspiration of this
story. . .

THE END.
ere