THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF ILLINOIS 
 LIBRARY 
 
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SKETCHES & INCIDENTS; 
 
 OR, 
 
 A BUDGET FROM THE SADDLE-BAGS 
 
 OF A 
 
 SUPERANNUATED ITINERANT. 
 
 VOLUME I. 
 
 GEORGE PECK, EDITOR. 
 
 ®iiutnnatt: 
 
 PUBLISHED BY SWORMSTEDT & POE, 
 
 TOR THE METHODIST EPISCOPAL CHURCH, AT THE WESTERN DOOR 
 CONCERN, CORNER OK MAIN AND EIGHTH STREETS. 
 
 R. I\ TIIOMl’SON, ntlNTEPv. 
 
 1855 . 
 
Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the y* »r . dj 
 G. Lane & P. P. Sandfokd, in the Clerk's Office of tl* District 
 Court of the Southern District of New-York. 
 
~V s 
 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
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 P 
 !■o 
 
 In order to give the following sketches 
 a slight aspect of unity, the author has 
 adopted an arrangement which he hopes 
 will not detract in the most scrupulous 
 estimation from the general veracity of the 
 work. 
 
 Though adapted to the Sunday-School 
 Library, it is chiefly designed for the ad¬ 
 vanced youth of the church; and the 
 author would not dissemble that, in his 
 matter and in his style, he has studied 
 to meet the wants of this interesting 
 class. While our denominational litera¬ 
 ture abounds in standard works for adults, 
 and includes an excellent series for Sunday 
 schools, it is comparatively destitute of 
 such productions as have been furnished 
 to the youth of the Calvinistic portion of 
 
4 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 the religious community, by Robert Philip, 
 the Messrs. Abbot, &c. The present pub- 
 lication, though of a widely different cha¬ 
 racter, will be acceptable, it is hoped, to 
 the same class of readers. Perhaps its 
 more fragmentary form may serve its ob¬ 
 ject. The author has sought to convey 
 in these sketches important lessons, and to 
 excite an affection for the character and 
 institutions of the church. A few of them 
 have already been extensively circulated 
 in the religious prints. The interest which 
 they have thus excited has encouraged 
 their publication in the present form. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Pago 
 
 Introduction. 7 
 
 Old Jeddy. There’s Rest at Home. 9 
 
 Wesley’s Character. 18 
 
 A Vision in the Wilderness. 28 
 
 Children of Religious Parents. 35 
 
 The Duel...A. 42 
 
 Bishop Asbui'y . 51 
 
 Presentiments. 58 
 
 Anecdotes of Jesse Lee. 63 
 
 The Moral Sublime. 71 
 
 The Converted Dutchman. 76 
 
 Dr. Coke . 81 
 
 Progress in Piety. 86 
 
 Black Harry of St. Eustatius. 94 
 
 The Way of Life. 102 
 
 Origin of Methodist Economy . 113 
 
 Adaptation of Methodism to our Country. 120 
 
 The Hospitable Widow and the Tract. 126 
 
 My Library. 131 
 
 Mighty Men. 142 
 
 Jack and his Master... 151 
 
 Religious Cheerfulness. 155 
 
 Tor Late. 161 
 
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INTRODUCTION. 
 
 It pleased God early to honor the writer 
 of these pages with a place in the itinerant 
 ranks of the Methodist Episcopal Church. 
 His travels have been extensive, imposing 
 a little hard service, and affording many 
 interesting recollections. It has been his 
 happiness to know many of the fathers who 
 composed the first itinerant band, the legio 
 tonans (thundering legion) of the American 
 church. Infirmities have compelled him 
 to retire from the field; his war-horse 
 sleeps under the sod of a distant prairie, 
 and his shattered trumpet gives but a 
 feeble and occasional note. His saddle-bags 
 remain. They hang in his study before 
 him while penning these lines; he can 
 never part with them. They are fuller of 
 eminiscences than ever they were of any- 
 
8 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 thing else, and if God will, he wishes them 
 placed under his head as a pillow when 
 dying. To beguile the tedium of re¬ 
 tirement and illness, he has written the 
 following sketches, chiefly incidents of 
 ministerial life. As they were written they 
 were deposited in his old saddle-bags until 
 they accumulated to a considerable budget. 
 They are now brought forth and presented 
 to the reader: if they should afford him a 
 lesson of warning or consolation, if they 
 should produce one impression which 
 shall survive the grave, the writer will be 
 rewarded and thankful. 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS: 
 
 OLD JEDDY—THERE’S REST AT HOME. 
 
 1 There remainelh, therefore, a rest for the 'people of 
 
 God." —Paul. 
 
 I was preaching one Sunday afternoon in tha 
 
 door of a log cabin in the village of P-, to 
 
 a congregation which filled the house and the 
 front yard. When about half through the ser¬ 
 mon, I observed an old negro riding alone toward 
 the house. He dismounted, fastened his hors a 
 to a tree, and took his stand among the throng. 
 The tears soon trickled down his furrowed 
 cheeks, and it seemed impossible for him to 
 repress some hearty exclamations. At the con¬ 
 clusion of the service he presented himself with 
 profound reverence as my guide to Colonel M.’s, 
 nineteen miles distant. It was my next ap¬ 
 pointment, and having just arrived on the cir¬ 
 cuit, I needed some guidance. I had already 
 preached three times and rode twenty-three 
 miles that day, and proposed to Jedediah, or 
 Jeddy, as he was called, to tarry till the morn¬ 
 ing; buthe replied that his master, the colonel, 
 
10 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 insisted upon seeing me that evening. “ Do 
 go, massa,” said Jeddy, “ for no massa preacher 
 be there for four months.” I mounted to start, 
 but Jeddy’s horse was found too lame to return. 
 The late rains had swept away a bridge on the 
 only road, and rendered it necessary to take an 
 indirect course through a boggy prairie, in order 
 to cross the stream nearer its head. The horse 
 had sprained one of his legs in a quicksand of 
 this prairie, but Jeddy insisted on returning on 
 foot, 
 
 We started into the prairie, but had not got 
 far when I perceived that, owing to the wet 
 state of the ground, we should not, at Jeddy’s 
 pace, reach our destination till the next morn¬ 
 ing. But, though slipping and tugging at almost 
 every step, the good-hearted negro’s large eyes 
 gleamed with delight at the thought that he had 
 induced the “massa preacher” to accompany 
 him. I directed him to mount behind me: he 
 seemed astonished at my kindness, and looked 
 at me in silent amazement, but at last yielded 
 to my request. By a little familiarity he became 
 quite communicative. I led him into a recital 
 of his whole history, particularly of his Chris¬ 
 tian experience. It was related with evident 
 sincerity and deep emotion ; the tears frequently 
 flowed from the old man’s eyes, and I could not 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 n 
 
 restrain my own; we wept together like chil¬ 
 dren. Though jogging along in no very inte¬ 
 resting plight, I felt that St. Paul’s language 
 was not inapplicable to us—God “ hath raised 
 us up together, and made us sit together in 
 heavenly places in Christ Jesus.” 
 
 When we had passed the first nine miles, the 
 night was falling fast, and, what was infinitely 
 worse, we began to falter among those patches 
 of quicksand so frequent and so dangerous in 
 some of the western prairies. After plunging 
 into a number of these, Jeddy dismounted, to 
 relieve the danger by lessening the burden of 
 the horse. We had not gone twenty rods fur¬ 
 ther before the poor animal sunk above his 
 knees in the mire, and only extricated himself 
 by the utmost violence. Though accustomed 
 to greater difficulties, the fatigues of the day 
 had so affected me that I began to show less 
 courage than the poor slave who guided me. 
 Dismounting, I leaned wearily against my horse, 
 and expressed a disposition to return rather 
 than risk the perils and fatigues of the remain 
 ing distance. 
 
 “ No, massa,” replied Jeddy, “ be not dis¬ 
 couraged, there be rest at home for you.” 
 
 There was something either in the tone of 
 Jeddy’s voice, or my own mood of mind, which 
 
12 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 gave the expression at once a double sense 
 “ Yes,” I involuntarily exclaimed, “ thank God, 
 there is a home for us, Jeddy, where the weary 
 are at rest.” 
 
 “ O yes, massa,” said the old labor-worn 
 negro, as the tears started in his eyes, “ me 
 often tinks of dat—me hopes to get dere some 
 day.” 
 
 “ There is rest at home”—the sentence gave 
 me new energy, and has often done so since, 
 in many a harder trial. 
 
 We jogged along, but ever and anon were 
 struggling in the bogs. Wearied at last, we 
 sat down on a small protuberance of the prairie, 
 too fatigued to proceed. 
 
 “ How old are you, Jeddy ?” I inquired. 
 
 “ Seventy-three, massa; me be getting to¬ 
 ward dat ‘ home,’ massa.” 
 
 “ Have you a wife, Jeddy ?” “ Yes, massa ; 
 
 but me know not where she be : former massa 
 love not God, and sold her far away.” “ Have 
 you children ?” “ Yes, massa.” “And where 
 
 are they ?” “ All gone, too, massa, me know 
 
 not where. But we all served God, massa, 
 and hope to meet in dat home where be rest.” 
 The tears started afresh in the old man’s eyes. 
 I could inquire no further. My feelings over¬ 
 powered me. What, thought I, are my suffer- 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 13 
 
 ings compared with those of this poor, sorrow- 
 stricken servant of my Master ! 
 
 “ There is rest for us at home,” said I invo¬ 
 luntarily, and motioned to proceed. It was 
 very dark, the rain was falling, and my horse 
 limped with lameness. I was compelled to 
 lead him by the bridle the remaining ten dreary 
 miles. Through rain, and mud, and quicksands, 
 we plodded on, nerved against them all by the 
 thought which ever recurred with refreshing- 
 influence to my mind, that “ there was rest for 
 us at home.” At last the glimmer of a distant 
 light fell on our course. “ Dat is home, massa,” 
 exclaimed Jeddy, with ecstasy. 
 
 So, I have often thought since then, gleams 
 the light of hope over the valley and shadow 
 of death to the Christian pilgrim. 
 
 I was received about midnight at the log 
 cabin, wet and weary, yet as an angel of God. 
 The table had been spread with everything 
 good the house could afford for my refreshment. 
 After many congratulations, a prayer and a 
 song of praise, I laid me down to rest. Rest , 
 thought I, what a sweet word! Never did I 
 feel its significance more than in the slumbers 
 of that night, sweetened as they were by beau¬ 
 tiful visions of that better land where “ there 
 remaineth a rest for the people of God.”- The 
 
14 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 phrase of my aged guide wove itself into all my 
 dreaming thoughts, and yet with such effect as 
 not in the least to disturb my repose. At one 
 time I thought I was reclining my head on the 
 breast of a seraph, and dying—nay, it was fall¬ 
 ing asleep in Jesus—pervaded from head to foot 
 with the most delicious sensations—a feeling 
 of profound repose, which I never felt before 
 nor since. At another I was gliding in the air, 
 up over the hills, down into the valleys of 
 heaven, without touching the soil, and wrapt in 
 an unimaginable ecstasy—an ecstasy intense, 
 and yet strangely tranquil. At another, I was 
 sweetly sleeping under a leafy tree near one of 
 its streams, on whose margin all varieties of 
 flowers were bending and blushing, as if at the 
 reflection of their own charms ; and though 
 asleep, yet it seemed that my eyes were open, 
 drinking in all the indescribable scenery, while 
 music, slow, sweet, and subdued by distance, 
 flowed like a soft breeze of the south over my 
 charmed spirit, and ever and anon a seraph 
 glided by, smiling with unspeakable love, and 
 uttering as he passed, “ Rest thee , brother” and 
 leaving behind him a very wake of fragrance 
 like the odor of June roses. These were fan¬ 
 tasies, but how sweet were they ! 
 
 I rose the next morning with the freshness 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 15 
 
 of youth, greeted by the sweet and ever-varying 
 notes of a mocking-bird, which had perched on 
 a tree over my chamber. 
 
 ******* 
 
 Ten years had passed—years of much labor 
 and sad changes in my history—when I had 
 occasion to visit a much more remote frontier 
 settlement. I preached in a log school-house, 
 to a congregation gathered from within twenty 
 miles around. At the close of the discourse, a 
 Mr. M. introduced himself to me as the son of 
 my former host, Colonel M. The colonel had 
 emancipated his slaves, and during a long pe¬ 
 riod of sickness was converted, and died, it was 
 believed, the death of the righteous. The son, 
 indulging the characteristic propensity of the 
 family, had advanced with the frontier line, and 
 the old colored servants, unwilling to disperse, 
 had accompanied him, and were settled about 
 him. One of them, he said, was not expected 
 to live from hour to hour. We went immedi¬ 
 ately to the sick man’s cabin ; it was surrounded 
 by colored people, weeping like children for a 
 father. On a bed in a corner lay the dying 
 man. I approached to address him ; his lan¬ 
 guid eye kindled, and in a moment there was a 
 mutual recognition. It was old Jeddy. Need 
 I tell the reader the effect on myself and on 
 
16 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 the dying African 1 Leaning over the bed, and 
 taking his hand, I asked, “ Do you remember, 
 Jeddy, the boggy prairie at-?” 
 
 “ O yes, massa ; dat precious night,” he re¬ 
 plied, gasping for breath. 
 
 “ Your pilgrimage is most ended. There's 
 rest for you at home, Jeddy.” 
 
 The old saint had not forgotten the phrase. 
 His dying eye kindled anew, and in broken 
 expressions he responded, “Yes, bless de Lord, 
 massa, me most dere, me most home ; me poor, 
 old, weary servant, 0 very weary, but going 
 home, going home.” Tears of gratitude and 
 joy expressed still more fully his thoughts. 
 When he had nearly lost the power of speech, 
 he continued to utter this phrase, and his last 
 words were, “ Rest—home !” He died about 
 eleven o’clock that night, and I have no doubt 
 that by the midnight hour he had passed through 
 the “ everlasting gates,” and was hailed by se¬ 
 raphim amid the “ excellent glory.” 
 
 Often, while drooping under the fatigues and 
 diseases of those wild regions—often, in laying 
 my head on my saddle, to spend the night in 
 the forest, have I recalled the phrase of Jeddy, 
 “ There’s rest at home.” There has been a 
 spell of power in these words which no labor 
 no peril, has been able to dissipate. 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 17 
 
 Minister of God, wandering to and fro, with¬ 
 out a resting place, to seek the lost sheep of 
 the house of Israel, art thou at times weary ? 
 Dost thou long for a home and repose ? Do 
 thy little ones die in thy absence, and are their 
 graves scattered in the land ? Cheer thee, bro¬ 
 ther, thy home is above, and a rest remaineth 
 for thee there. 
 
 Aged pilgrim, art thou bending over thy staff, 
 like the patriarch “ seeking a better country 
 do thy aged limbs tremble on the way ? Be of 
 good courage, the difficult heights before thee 
 are the “ Delectable Mountains.” Struggle on ; 
 thou art on the threshold of thy home : there is 
 rest for thee there. 
 
 Afflicted saint, is it thy lot not to do, but 
 suffer the will of thy Lord ? Art thou weary 
 and weak, and in pains ; are weeks or months 
 of languishing before thee ? “ Trust thou in the 
 Lord for ever,” for thy “light afflictions” are 
 “ but for a moment,” compared with the “ rest 
 that remaineth” for thee. Suffer on, the end is 
 at hand, when thou shalt “ enter into his rest.” 
 
 2 
 
18 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 WESLEY’S CHARACTER. 
 
 “ A prince and a great man in Israel." —David. 
 
 I have known few men who had greater 
 ability in the discrimination of human character 
 than Judge M.,— an ability which he had ac¬ 
 quired as well by extensive biographical reading 
 as by the study of life. 
 
 He had been reading Southey’s Life of Wes¬ 
 ley. “ It is a most interesting production,” said 
 he, “ but very unsatisfactory. Its style is a 
 specimen of pure and vigorous English, and its 
 materials are singularly rich, even romantic, 
 but it lacks unity, and the final impression is 
 vague. Some of the sketches of Wesley’s 
 ‘ helpers,’ as they are called, would adorn the 
 romances of chivalry ; but I have received from 
 the book no definite idea of Wesley himself.” 
 
 I found, nevertheless, that the idea he had 
 received, however indefinite, was not too fa¬ 
 vorable. 
 
 Watson’s pungent and eloquent critique on 
 Southey had just appeared. I sent it to him, 
 vmpanied with Moore’s Life of Wesley. 
 While reading them, he frequently sent to my 
 library for other publications which were re- 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 19 
 
 ferred to by these writers, particularly the works 
 of Wesley, Gillies, Whitefield, &c. On return¬ 
 ing them, he expressed the interest he had felt 
 in their perusal. 
 
 “ I have never before,” said he, “ given so 
 much attention to an ecclesiastical subject. 
 Wesley’s character is itself a study. To one 
 who has not examined these works I should 
 hesitate to express fully my estimate of him. 
 He equaled Luther in energy and courage, 
 while he excelled him in prudence and learn¬ 
 ing. He equaled Melancthon in learning and 
 prudence, while he surpassed him in courage 
 and energy ; and there are few of the excel¬ 
 lences of both the Wittemberg reformers which 
 were not combined and transcended in his indi¬ 
 vidual character. 
 
 “ He possessed in an eminent degree one 
 trait of a master mind—the power of compre¬ 
 hending at once the general outlines and the 
 details of plans, the aggregate and the inte¬ 
 grants. It is this power which forms the phi¬ 
 losophical genius in science; it is indispen¬ 
 sable to the successful commander and the 
 great statesman. It is illustrated in the whole 
 economical system of Methodism—a system 
 which, while it fixes itself to the smallest 
 locality with the utmost detail and tenacity, is 
 
20 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 sufficiently general in its provisions to reach 
 the ends of the world, and still maintain its 
 unity of spirit and discipline. 
 
 “ No man knew better than Wesley the im¬ 
 portance of small things. You recollect that 
 his whole financial system was based on weekly 
 penny collections; and it was a rule of his 
 preachers never to omit a single preaching 
 appointment, except when the ‘ risk of life or 
 limb’ required. So far as I can judge, he was 
 the first to apply extensively the plan of tract 
 distribution. He wrote, printed, and scattered 
 over the kingdom, placards on almost every 
 topic of morals and religion. In addition to 
 the usual services of the church, he introduced 
 what you call the band meeting, the class meet¬ 
 ing , the prayer meeting, the love feast, and the 
 watch night. Not content with his itinerant 
 laborers, he called into use the less available 
 powers of his people, by establishing the depart¬ 
 ments of local preachers, exhorters, and leaders. 
 It was, in fine, by gathering together fragments, 
 by combining minutiae, that he formed that 
 powerful system of spiritual means which is 
 transcending all others in the evangelization of 
 the world. 
 
 “ It was not only in the theoretical construe- 
 tion of plans that Wesley excelled ; he was, if 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 21 
 
 possible, still more distinguished by practical 
 energy. The variety and number of his labors 
 would be absolutely incredible to me with less 
 authentic evidence than that which corrobo¬ 
 rates them. He was perpetually traveling and 
 preaching, studying and writing, translating and 
 abridging, superintending his societies, and ap¬ 
 plying his great plans. According to one of 
 these authors, he traveled usually jive thousand 
 miles a year, preaching twice and thrice a day, 
 commencing at five o’clock in the morning ; 
 and in all this incessant traveling and preach¬ 
 ing he carried with him the studious and medi¬ 
 tative habits of the philosopher. No depart¬ 
 ment of human inquiry was omitted by him. 
 ‘ History, poetry, and philosophy,’ says he, * I 
 read on horseback.’ 
 
 “Wesley, like Luther, knew the importance 
 of the press ; he kept it teeming with his pub¬ 
 lications, and his itinerant preachers were good 
 agents for their circulation. And here [opening 
 one of the volumes] is a sentence addressed to 
 them on the subject which indicates his cha¬ 
 racter :—‘ Carry them with you through every 
 round; exert yourselves in this ; be not 
 ashamed, be not weary, leave no stone un¬ 
 turned.’ His works, including abridgments and 
 translations, amounted (if I estimate rightly) to 
 
22 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 about two hundred volumes. These comprise 
 treatises on almost every subject of divinity, 
 poetry, music, history ; natural, moral, meta¬ 
 physical, and political philosophy. He wrote 
 as he preached, adpopulum, and he may indeed 
 be considered the leader in those exertions 
 which are now being made for the popular 
 diffusion of knowledge. 
 
 “ Differing from the usual character of men 
 who are given to various exertions and many 
 plans, he was accurate and profound. He was 
 an adept in classical literature and the use of 
 the classical tongues ; his writings are adorned 
 with their finest passages. He was familiar 
 with a number of modern languages ; and I 
 consider his own style one of the best exam¬ 
 ples of strength and perspicuity among English 
 writers. He seems to have been ready on 
 every subject of learning and general literature. 
 As a logician, he was remarkably clear and 
 decisive. 
 
 “ He was but little addicted to those exhila¬ 
 rations and contrarieties of frame which cha¬ 
 racterize imaginative minds. His temperament 
 was warm, but not fiery. His intellect never 
 appears inflamed, but always glowing—a se¬ 
 rene radiance. His immense labors were 
 accomplished, not by the impulses of restless 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 23 
 
 enthusiasm, but by tlie cool calculation of his 
 plans, and the steady self-possession with which 
 he pursued them. I like thai maxim of his— 
 ‘ Though I am always in haste, I am never in 
 a hurry.’ He was as economical of his time 
 as a miser could be of his gold ; rising at four 
 o’clock in the morning, and allotting to every 
 hour its appropriate work. 4 Leisure and I have 
 taken leave of each other,’ said he. 4nd yet 
 such was the happy arrangement of his employ¬ 
 ments, that amid a multiplicity which would 
 distract an ordinary man, he declares that 
 1 there are few persons who spend so many 
 hours secluded from all company as myself.’ 
 The wonder of his character is the self-control 
 by which he preserved himself calm, while he 
 kept all in excitement around him. 
 
 “ He was a contrast to Whitefield. White- 
 field was born an orator. The qualities of the 
 orator made up his whole genius ; they were 
 the first mental manifestations of his childhood, 
 hut were pent up in his heart, a magazine of 
 energies, until kindled by the influence of reli¬ 
 gion, when they broke forth, like the fires of a 
 volcano. He was a man of boundless soul. 
 He was a host of generous sympathies; and 
 every sympathy, in him, was a passion. This 
 was, perhaps, the secret of his eloquence. The 
 
24 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 Athenian orator said that action was eloquence. 
 Perhaps antiquity has given undue authority to 
 this remark. The pantomime is not eloquent; 
 but strong passion always is, and always would 
 be, had it the expression of neither hand nor 
 feature, but the tremulous tones of the excited 
 voice coming from an unseen source upon the 
 ear. There is no eloquence without feeling. 
 Even the histrionic orator must feel —not affect 
 to feel, but, by giving himself up to the illusion 
 of reality in ideal scenes, actually feel. White- 
 field’s whole Christian course showed the pre¬ 
 valence of mighty feelings. 
 
 “ Whitefield was no legislator : he acted en¬ 
 tirely without a system. Here was his great 
 defect. Had he combined the contriving powers 
 of Wesley with his own effective eloquence, it 
 cannot be doubted that he would have occupied 
 the high place of the latter, or, at least, a simi¬ 
 lar position in a separate sect holding the tenets 
 of Calvinism. His powers of address were 
 much more immediately effective than Wes¬ 
 ley’s ; and if they had been applied to the es¬ 
 tablishment of a well-organized system, as were 
 Wesley’s, the result would have been immense. 
 He moved like a comet, dazzling and amazing 
 the world, but leaving scarcely a trace behind 
 him. Perhaps his capital fault was his sepa- 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 25 
 
 ration from Wesley. He was certainly never 
 designed by Providence to scatter so ineffectu¬ 
 ally his vast powers. 
 
 “ Wesley was the counterpart of Whitefield. 
 They were raised up to co-operate in one great 
 cause—the one to construct its plans, the other 
 to vivify them with the electric powers of bis 
 genius. The one held on his due course, and 
 the results of his steadfastness are still develop¬ 
 ing on a scale of unparalleled grandeur. The 
 other deviated ; and almost the last vestige of 
 his labors has passed away, or blended undis- 
 tinguishably with the mass of the church. 
 
 “ Like the great men of old, Wesley was 
 careful in his physical habits. Though of a 
 feeble constitution, his regularity, sustained 
 through great exertions and vicissitudes, pro¬ 
 duced a vigor and equanimity which are sel¬ 
 dom the accompaniments of a laborious mind 
 or of a distracted life. He somewhere says he 
 does not remember to have felt lowness of spi¬ 
 rits one quarter of an hour since he was born— 
 that ten thousand cares are no more weight to 
 hii mind than ten thousand hairs are to his 
 head—and that he never lost a night’s sleep in 
 his life. Southey says, his face was remark¬ 
 ably fine, his complexion fresh to the last week 
 of his life, and his eye quick, keen, and active. 
 
26 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 “ One of the finest spectacles to me is thu? 
 sight of an old man holding on his career of 
 action or endurance to the extremity of life with 
 an unwavering spirit. Such was Wesley. He 
 ceased not his labors till death. After the 
 eightieth year of his age he visited Holland 
 twice. At the end of his eighty-second, he 
 says, 4 1 am never tired either with writing, 
 preaching, or traveling.’ He preached under 
 trees which he had planted himself, at Kings- 
 wood. He outlived most of his first disciples 
 and preachers, and stood up mighty in intellect 
 and labors among the second and third gene¬ 
 rations of his people. I have been affected in 
 reading the account of his later years, when 
 persecution had subsided, and he was every¬ 
 where received as a patriarch, and sometimes, 
 as his biographer says, he excited, by his arrival 
 in towns and cities, an interest such as the 
 king himself would produce. He attracted the 
 largest assemblies, perhaps, which have been 
 congregated for religious instruction since the 
 ministry of Christ, being estimated sometimes at 
 more than thirty thousand. Great intellectually, 
 morally, and physically, he at length died, in 
 the eighty-eighth year of his age, and sixty-fifth 
 of his ministry, unquestionably one of the most 
 extraordinary men of any age. 
 
27 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 t 
 
 “ He lived to see Methodism spread through 
 Great Britain, America, and the West India 
 Islands. Nearly one hundred and forty thou¬ 
 sand members, upward of five hundred itinerant 
 preachers, and more than one thousand local 
 preachers, were connected with him when he 
 died. And how have these multiplied since! 
 The epitaph of Sir Christopher Wren, in St. 
 Paul’s Cathedral, the work of his own genius, 
 is applicable to Wesley’s memory in almost all 
 the civilized world : ‘ Do you ask for his monu¬ 
 ment ? Look around you .’ ” 
 
28 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 A VISION IN THE WILDERNESS. 
 
 “ It seemed a dream, and yet 'twas not .” 
 
 In my long journeys in the West, I useu 
 frequently to rest during the heat of the noon¬ 
 day under the shade of a tree, fastening my 
 horse to one of its branches by a long rope, 
 which afforded him ample room for grazing. 
 After a hearty meal, of the famed “ hoe-cake ,” 
 furnished at my last stopping place, and eaten 
 with a relish which nothing but hunger and 
 travel can give, and offering up my tribute of 
 praise to Him who guided my wanderings, I 
 usually lay down on my traveling blanket, with 
 my saddle for a pillow, and refreshed myself by 
 a few hours’ sleep. Reposing thus, with my 
 pocket Bible in my hand, reading and medi¬ 
 tating on the promises of God to his people, 
 I once fell into a dreamy revery, during which 
 I imagined that all the illustrious of the church 
 in former ages passed in slow procession be¬ 
 fore me. 
 
 First in the long train, and at considerable 
 distance from the following groups, moved a 
 venerable company, with silvered locks, and 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 29 
 
 elevated and wrinkled brows; tlieir counte¬ 
 nances were marked with an expression of 
 blended gravity and simplicity, their staves were 
 crooks, and their whole appearance indicated 
 the simple habits of pastoral life. They were 
 preceded by a figure of peculiar dignity, the 
 rapt thoughtfulness of whose countenance be¬ 
 spoke a high communion with the spiritual 
 world—a friendship with the Deity. 
 
 At a short distance in their rear followed one 
 whose whole bearing was that of a stern, yet 
 dignified consciousness of power. He bore in 
 one hand a rod, and in the other a scroll. His 
 brow seemed like bronze, and was marked with 
 the lines of most profound and somewhat awful 
 thought. I gazed on this ancient-looking group 
 until the shadows of the foremost grew dim in 
 the distance, when, turning my eye, my atten¬ 
 tion was immediately arrested by an exceed¬ 
 ingly interesting company of more varied cha¬ 
 racter, and at more irregular intervals from each 
 other. They were male and female. Their 
 countenances wore different expressions ; some 
 the calm dignity of collected thought, others 
 a lofty majesty that seemed something more 
 than human; some an affecting pathos and 
 lonely sadness, while the features of others 
 were radiant with the outbreakings of ecstatic 
 
30 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 emotion. All, however, had an indefinable 
 correspondence. I was struck with an uplift¬ 
 ed look of the eyes that was common to all, 
 and imparted an aspect of sanctified inspi¬ 
 ration. 
 
 The first in the group was a lovely female 
 figure, whose graceful form appeared to glide 
 along as if moving on the air; her hair waved 
 in the breezes, and her countenance was an 
 expression of blended beauty and holiness. It 
 seemed illuminated with a radiance from hea¬ 
 ven. In one hand she held above her head a 
 timbrel, while with the other she struck it with 
 enthusiasm. At a distance methought I heard 
 her sing, “ Awake, awake, Deborah ; awake, 
 awake, utter a song.” 
 
 Next followed an unimpassioned, aged man, 
 his eyes sunken, and his locks white like the 
 snows of winter; mature thought and wise 
 counsel sat on his visage, blended with a hal¬ 
 lowed complacency that seemed to say, “ Speak, 
 Lord, for thy servant heareth.” He was fol¬ 
 lowed by one who was robed in regal apparel, 
 and whose head was circled with a crown. He 
 appeared a prince of God’s people, anointed 
 from on high. His face shone with rapture as he 
 moved buoyantly along, with a harp in his hand, 
 singing “ O come, let us sing unto the Lord ; 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 31 
 
 let us make a joyful noise unto the Rock of our 
 salvation.” 
 
 Then came one wrapped in a mantle, with a 
 solemnity truly august; his beard was long 
 and silvery; his eye, though sunken with age, 
 gleamed with fire ; and on his elevated, bu in¬ 
 dented brow, sat a solemn loftiness of thought. 
 His motion was that of strong old age, and as 
 he passed I heard him say, “ Awake, awake ; 
 
 put on thy strength, 0 Zion ; put on thy beau- 
 
 \ 
 
 tiful garments, O Jerusalem, the holy city.” 
 
 In the same group I observed several other 
 most interesting figures, some carrying harps, 
 some rejoicing, some weeping. Among the 
 latter, one particularly affected me. He seemed 
 a man of God—his look was that of deep dejec¬ 
 tion, yet submissive and sanctified. He uttered 
 as he passed, with a tone of affecting pathos, 
 “ 0 that my head were waters, and mine eyes 
 a fountain of tears, that I might weep day and 
 night for the slain of the daughter of my 
 people !” 
 
 Many others of remarkable appearance -were 
 passing before me, but the sudden approach of 
 another group at a distance drew away my 
 attention. The first that caught my eye was a 
 figure robed in camel’s hair, with a leathern 
 girdle about his loins ; his face was weather- 
 
32 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 worn, as if lie were accustomed to an exposed 
 life. His gait was dignified and grave; his 
 voice, owing to the distance, was very indis¬ 
 tinct, but, associated with his whole personal 
 appearance, it was as “ the voice of one crying 
 in the wilderness.” Then followed one whose 
 
 m 
 
 step was slow and godlike. A singular com¬ 
 bination of power and goodness was expressed 
 in all his bearing. At one moment I thought 
 it might be an impersonated image of greatness 
 and might—and at another, of meekness and 
 lowliness. An indescribable benignity shone 
 on his features, and yet a cloud of sorrow 
 seemed to wreathe his brow, so that he appeared 
 indeed “ a man of sorrows, and acquainted with 
 grief.” 
 
 Then followed a company that could not so 
 well be called a group as a file, owing to their 
 great extent. The first seemed men of much 
 simplicity of character, unpretending in their 
 manners, but conscious of high powers and 
 great responsibilities ; a calm fearlessness was 
 expressed in their countenances. Among them 
 I observed two figures that particularly inte¬ 
 rested my attention ; the first for his delightful 
 complacency. His whole countenance beamed 
 with amiable lowliness and compassion, and 
 he appeared to be uttering to himself as he 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 33 
 
 passed, “ God is love.” The other looked 
 accustomed to the patient and wearying toil 
 of the laborious scholar. An expression of 
 contemplative thoughtfulness was expanded 
 over his brow. He appeared like one whose 
 mind was pregnant with mighty thoughts, and 
 who could stand unmoved in the integrity of his 
 principles before the thrones of kings and amid 
 the schools of philosophers. Though his coun¬ 
 tenance was that of a great man, yet it wore a 
 holy humility that seemed to say, “ God forbid 
 that I should glory, save in the cross of our 
 Lord Jesus Christ!” After the first few figures, 
 the number increased rapidly, till it appeared like 
 the hosts of war; their countenances bespoke 
 heroic boldness and contempt of pain, as if they 
 were familiar with perils and death—panoplied 
 pilgrims, who have here no abiding place, but 
 seek a city eternal in the heavens. After some 
 hundreds had passed, the procession seemed to 
 terminate, and dense darkness followed ; dim, 
 phantasmagoric figures, more like shapes of 
 shadow than living beings, appeared for a mo¬ 
 ment, and then faded away in the gloom ; but 
 I continued to gaze anxiously for some new 
 and more distinct appearance, when suddenly 
 one emerged, wearing the cowl and girdle of 
 
 a monk. In his hand he grasped a rusty 
 
 3 
 
34 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 parchment copy of the Bible. Defiance was 
 written on his brow. His step was firm and 
 determined, and, though clouds and darkness 
 surrounded him, he daringly advanced, and they 
 seemed to retire, while light broke out in his 
 footsteps. The concourse that followed in his 
 train became so numerous as to confuse my 
 thoughts. Not being able to distinguish them 
 minutely, I began to contemplate them in the 
 gross—their vast extent—the new accessions 
 continually rising up to my view. On looking 
 upward, a sublime object riveted my attention. 
 It was a cross of fire flaming out on a dark 
 cloud, and above it was written, in letters of 
 light, Conquer by this. The prospect was con¬ 
 stantly opening and extending around. The 
 clouds that circumscribed it at first were rolling 
 further and further into the distance. I fol¬ 
 lowed the multiplying host with my eye as they 
 passed along, and observed at each movement 
 in their progress the ruins of overturned altars, 
 gory with recent sacrifices—temples tottering 
 to the earth—fragments of thrones, commingled 
 with broken fetters and sundered chains. The 
 darkness became less and less, until, gather¬ 
 ing itself into one mass, like a cloud highly 
 surcharged with lightning, it passed away with 
 a great noise, when the whole prospect assumed 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 35 
 
 a thousand varied aspects of light and beauty. 
 The host I was contemplating, now so nume¬ 
 rous as to spread over the entire survey, cried 
 aloud, “ The kingdoms of this world have be¬ 
 come the kingdoms of our Lord and of his 
 Christ, and he shall reign for ever and ever,” 
 followed by a shout from heaven, saying, “ Al- 
 lelujah, for the Lord God omnipotent reigneth !” 
 at which I awoke, and lo, it was a dream ! 
 
 CHILDREN OF RELIGIOUS PARENTS. 
 
 “ Train a child in the way he should go." 
 
 Solomon. 
 
 My heart still bleeds when I recall the death- 
 scene of my old friend W. He was a good 
 man, and is no doubt at rest. He labored 
 usefully as a local preacher, and scores were 
 converted from the error of their ways by his 
 instrumentality ; but of all his numerous chil¬ 
 dren, only one daughter, who ministered as an 
 angel at his sick bed, had acknowledged the 
 name of Christ. Two of his sons had died in 
 responsible years, without hope, one of them 
 in agonies of despair : the spirit of the old man 
 never recovered from the shock. Three were 
 
36 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 still living ; two, wandering lie knew not where, 
 the votaries of dissipation, the other confined in 
 a neighboring alms-house, a maniac. Seldom 
 have I known an equal case of domestic afflic¬ 
 tion. He had educated his family in religion 
 with all diligence, but was now dying, with the 
 hope of meeting but one of them in heaven. 
 The affections of the parent were naturally 
 strong in him, but in his last sickness they 
 were overpowering. “ Pray for my children,” 
 was his pathetic appeal to the Christian friends 
 who visited him—“ O my children ! My poor 
 boys ! I go down to the grave in sorrow for 
 them. Must they be lost ? Cannot prayer still 
 pluck them as brands from the burning ? Pray, 
 O pray for my children !” The Christian parent 
 alone can feel the force of this dying father’s 
 language, and even he cannot feel as I do, while 
 recalling the unutterable anxiety of his ema¬ 
 ciated features, bathed as they were with the 
 tears of paternal tenderness. Ah! it is on 
 the margin of eternity—it is when the soul, 
 full of unspeakable solicitude, feels that it is 
 passing returnlessly away, that the affections 
 receive a depth of pathos they never had be¬ 
 fore. It is then, too, that we see things as 
 they are ;—valuable only so far as they relate 
 to the endless state into which we are passing 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 37 
 
 It is then, mistaken parent, that thou wilt 
 wish to see thy child lying, with the hopes 
 and woes of Lazarus, at the gate of the rich 
 man, rather than enjoying, without God, the 
 admiration or wealth for which thou art now so 
 anxiously training it. 
 
 The old man expired, praying for his chil¬ 
 dren, and his prayer was not altogether in vain ; 
 for “ God is not slack concerning his promises ; 
 and he has assured the Christian parent that 
 “ it shall be well with him, and his children 
 after him that “ the generation of the upright 
 shall be blessed.” His poor maniac son has 
 since been restored, and is now seen “ sitting 
 at the feet of Jesus, clothed and in his right 
 mind.” His name is on the temperance pledge 
 and the church book, and I trust it is “ written 
 in heaven.” One of his brothers has also been 
 reclaimed, and the other still lives, and is there¬ 
 fore within the reach of the many prayers which 
 have ascended for him. 
 
 I have not introduced this case in order to 
 sketch it, but to append a few thoughts on an 
 important subject. It is an interesting question 
 why the children of religious parents are so 
 seldom converted, and not unfrequently are 
 more hostile to religion than those who have 
 had no early religious training. The reasons 
 
38 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 usually assigned are, that they become disgust¬ 
 ed with religion by the importunity of their 
 parents ; that severe early restraints become 
 irksome, and react; that the imperfections which 
 they observe in the domestic conduct of their 
 relatives destroy their confidence, &c., &c. 
 I doubt most of the usual reasoning on this 
 subject. It may apply in particular cases, but 
 it does not solve the whole problem. Where 
 these defects have not existed, the result has 
 been the same. The most painful examples I 
 have known were in the families of devoted 
 and judicious ministers, some of whose chil¬ 
 dren, whom 1 can at this moment recall, are 
 reeling to the grave drunkards. I think the 
 reason lies deeper than is usually conjectured. 
 There is a profound fault somewhere in our 
 system of religious training. The constitution 
 of the human mind requires the Scriptural mode 
 of enforcing religion, and admits of no other, 
 and this is not the mode adopted in the religious 
 education of children. Let me explain. 
 
 We have two classes of habits, passive and 
 active. The facility of the former is diminished, 
 while that of the latter is increased, by exercise. 
 The surgeon, in the beginning of his profession, 
 may feel a painful sympathy for the sufferings 
 of his patient. This very sympathy may un- 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 39 
 
 nerve his hand, and embarrass his operation. 
 By familiarity with suffering his sympathies 
 harden—the passive susceptibility abates, until 
 the agonies of his writhing subject scarcely 
 discompose his feelings. But with this de¬ 
 crease of feeling there is an increase of tact 
 in the use of his instruments—the active habit, 
 is improved, so that the most unfeeling operators 
 are generally the most accurate and secure. 
 The experience of the drunkard is another 
 example ; in proportion as he advances in his 
 vicious habit does his susceptibility of agreeable 
 excitement diminish. The draught that at first 
 intoxicated becomes powerless, and, to have 
 effect, must be increased as he advances. 
 
 This interesting law applies equally to our 
 moral nature. Let an individual be passive, 
 but inactive, amid the examples and admoni¬ 
 tions of religion, and he will inevitably dege¬ 
 nerate. So well known is this fact, that the 
 popular language, without scrutinizing the rea¬ 
 son, has characterized such as “ gospel hard¬ 
 ened.” The most thrilling appeals of truth fall 
 on their ears like the breath of the wind, while 
 others, a hundred-fold more debased in vice, but 
 less accustomed to religious motives, quake with 
 trembling. Now, does not this consideration 
 explain the irreligion of the children of religious 
 
40 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 parents ? They witness constantly examples of 
 religion, but is it the case that parents labor 
 directly for their conversion ? It is to be feared 
 that direct efforts for the salvation of children 
 are rare. We teach them its doctrines, and 
 discipline them to some of its moralities, but do 
 we treat them as the gospel treats sinners —• 
 urging them to immediate repentance and faith 
 as the means of regeneration and the ground of 
 all true practical virtue ? I have often thought, in 
 my observations on Christian families, that the 
 indirectness with which religious impressions 
 were made was exactly adapted to habituate 
 the mind to easy resistance. Witnessing daily 
 the examples of religion without any active 
 participation in them, they are preparing either 
 to doubt and despise all religion, or hang on our 
 congregations lifeless moralists. 
 
 Our religious feelings must be active, or they 
 will decline. Like the vigor of the body, they 
 depend upon exercise. Nothing could more 
 effectually benumb the heart of a philanthropist, 
 than to observe daily the miseries of the suffer¬ 
 ing without an effort to relieve them. 
 
 Let not, then, the Christian parent try to in¬ 
 troduce his child to religion by a gradual process 
 of discipline—this is good in its place—but let 
 him first teach and urge an immediate renewal 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 41 
 
 of the heart—the same as is necessary in an 
 adult sinner, for sin is as radical in the nature 
 of a child as in that of a man of threescore 
 years and ten—and then, being introduced to 
 the active habits of religion, both inward and 
 outward, they will grow with its growth. 
 
 These thoughts suggest an admonition to the 
 children of religious families. How great are 
 their privileges ! The light of heaven shines 
 upon their infant brows in the very cradle. 
 Their house is a miniature sanctuary, with its 
 altar of morning and evening sacrifice. The 
 oracles of truth speak to them daily with wiser 
 counsels than angels could utter. The sweet¬ 
 est affections of life are made to them vehicles 
 of religious influence. How can it be possible 
 for a child to grow up in habitual resistance of 
 all these appeals, and not suffer seriously in his 
 moral susceptibility ? His heart must become 
 indurated. These blessings will be either a 
 savor of life unto life, or of death unto death. 
 
 Child of many prayers! thou art blessed 
 indeed ; but 0 ! be warned that thy mercies 
 turn not to curses, and that the sweet memories 
 of thy home be not imbittered through eternity. 
 
42 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 THE DUEL. 
 
 “ Blood-guiltiness /”—Psalmist. 
 
 About four miles from N - is an extensive 
 
 grove, well known as the scene of several fatal 
 duels. As I passed it one morning on my way 
 to my appointment in that town, I perceived a 
 horse and vehicle among the trees, guarded by 
 a solitary man, who appeared to be the driver. 
 My suspicions were immediately aroused, but 
 I rode on. 
 
 About a mile beyond I met another carriage, 
 containing four persons, besides the driver, and 
 hastening with all speed. My fears were con¬ 
 firmed, and I could scarcely doubt that another 
 scene of blood was about to be enacted in those 
 quiet solitudes. What was my duty in the case ? 
 I knew too well the tenacity of those fictitious 
 and absurd sentiments of honor which pre¬ 
 vailed in that section of the country, and which 
 gave to the duel a character of exalted chivalry, 
 to hope that my interference could be success¬ 
 ful ; yet, thought I, it is my duty to rebuke the 
 sin, if I cannot prevent it, and in the name of 
 my Lord I will do it. As quick as the thought, 
 I wheeled about, and returned with the utmost 
 speed to the grove. 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 43 
 
 The second carriage had arrived, and was 
 fastened to a tree. I rode up to it, fastened my 
 horse near it, and throwing the driver a piece 
 of silver, requested him to guard him. While 
 threading my way into the forest, my thoughts 
 were intensely agitated to know how to present 
 myself most successfully. The occasion ad¬ 
 mitted of no delay. I hastened on, and soon 
 emerged into an oval space surrounded on all 
 sides by the dense woods. At the opposite 
 extremities stood the principals, their boots 
 drawn over their pantaloons, their coats, vests, 
 and hats off, and with handkerchiefs tied over 
 their heads, and tightly belting their waists. 
 A friend and a surgeon were conversing with 
 each, while the seconds were about midway 
 between them, arranging the dreadful conflict. 
 One of the principals, the challenged, appeared 
 but about twenty years old ; his countenance 
 was singularly expressive of sensibility, but 
 also of cool determination. The other had a 
 stout, ruffian-like bearing, a countenance easy, 
 but sinister and heartless, and seemed impatient 
 to wreak his vengeance on his antagonist. 
 
 I advanced immediately to the seconds, and 
 declared at once my character and my object. 
 “ Gentlemen,” said I, “ excuse my intrusion ; I 
 am a minister of the gospel; I know not the 
 
44 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 merits of this quarrel, but both my heart and my 
 office require me to mediate a peace between 
 the parties, if possible. Is it not possible ?” 
 
 “ Sir,” replied one of them, “ the utmost has 
 been done to effect it, without success, and this 
 is no place for further attempts.” 
 
 “ Under any circumstances, in any place, 
 gentlemen,” I replied, “ it is appropriate to pre¬ 
 vent murder, and such, in the sight of God, is 
 the deed you are aiding. It must not be, gen¬ 
 tlemen : in the name of the law, which prohibits 
 it—in the name of your friends, the principals— 
 in the name of God, who looks upon you in this 
 solitary place, I beseech you, stop it at once ; 
 at least, wash your own hands from the blood 
 of these men; retire from the field, and refuse 
 to assist in their mutual murder.” 
 
 My emphatic remonstrance had a momentary 
 effect; they seemed not indisposed to come to 
 terms, if I could get the concurrence of the 
 principals. 
 
 I passed immediately to the oldest of them 
 His countenance became more repulsive as I 
 approached him ; it was deeply pitted with the 
 small-pox, and there was upon it the most 
 Satanic, cold-blooded leer I ever witnessed on 
 a human face. He had given the challenge. 
 I besought him, by every consideration of hu- 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 45 
 
 inanity and morality, to recall it. I referred to 
 the youth and inexperience of his antagonist, 
 the conciliatory disposition of the seconds, the 
 fearful consequences to his soul if he should 
 fall, the withering remorse which must ever 
 follow him if he should succeed. 
 
 He evidently thirsted for the blood of his 
 opponent; but observing that his friend and the 
 surgeon seconded my reasoning, he replied, 
 with undissembled reluctance, that he gave the 
 challenge for sufficient reasons ; if they were 
 removed, he might recall it, but never other¬ 
 wise. 
 
 I passed to the other. I admonished him of 
 the sin he was about to perpetrate, and referred 
 to his probable domestic relations. The allu¬ 
 sion touched his heart; he suddenly wiped a 
 tear from his eye. “ Yes, sir,” said he, “ there 
 are hearts which would break if they knew I 
 were here.” I referred to my conversation with 
 the seconds and the other principal, and re 
 marked that nothing was now necessary to 
 effect a reconciliation but his retraction of the 
 language which had offended his adversary. 
 “ Sir,” he replied, planting his foot firmly on 
 the earth, and assuming a look which would 
 have been sublime in a better cause—“ Sir, I 
 have but declared the truth respecting that man, 
 
46 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 and though I sink into the grave, I will not 
 sanction his villainous character by a retrac¬ 
 tion.” I reasoned with increased vehemence 
 but no appeal to his judgment or his heart could 
 shake his desperate firmness. My heart bled 
 over this young man, and I left him with tears, 
 which I have no doubt he would have shared 
 under other circumstances. What could I do 
 further ? I appealed again to the principal, 
 but he spurned me with a cool smile ; I flew to 
 the seconds, and requested them on any terms 
 to adjust the matter and save the shedding of 
 blood. But they had already measured the 
 ground, and were ready to arrange the princi¬ 
 pals. “ Gentlemen,” said I, “ the blood of this 
 dreadful deed be upon your souls ; I have ac¬ 
 quitted myself of it;” and I proceeded from the 
 arena toward my horse. 
 
 What were my emotions as I turned away in 
 despair ! What! thought I; must it proceed ? 
 Is there no expedient to prevent it ? In a few 
 minutes one or both of these men may be in 
 eternity, accursed for ever with “ blood-guilti¬ 
 ness !” Can I not pluck them as brands from 
 the burning ? My spirit was in a tumult of 
 anxiety. In a moment, as the principals were 
 taking their places, I was again on the ground, 
 standing on the line between them. “ Sirs !” 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 47 
 
 I exclaimed, “ in the name of God, I adjure you 
 stop this murderous work. It must not, it can¬ 
 not proceed.” 
 
 “ Knock him down,” cried the elder duelist, 
 with a fearful imprecation. 
 
 “ Sir,” said the younger, “ I appreciate your 
 motives, but demand of you to interfere no more 
 with these arrangements.” 
 
 The seconds seized me by the arm, and 
 compelled me to retire. But I warned them at 
 every step. Never before did I feel so deeply 
 the value and hazard of the human soul. My 
 remarks were without effect, except on one of 
 the friends of the younger principal. “ This is 
 a horrible place,” said he ; “I cannot endure it;” 
 and he turned away with me from the scene. 
 
 “ Now, then, for it,” said one of the seconds, 
 as they returned ; “ take your places.” Shud- 
 deringly I hastened my pace to escape the result. 
 
 “ One, two”—the next sound was lost in the 
 explosion of the pistols. “0 God!” shrieked 
 a voice of agony. I turned round ; the younger 
 principal, with his hand to his face, shrieked 
 again, quivered, and fell to the earth. I rushed 
 to him. With one hand he clung to the earth, 
 the fingers penetrating the sod, with the other 
 he grasped his left jaw, which was shattered 
 with a horrid wound. I turned with faintness 
 
48 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 from the sight. The charge had passed through 
 the left side of the mouth, crashing the teeth, 
 severing the jugular, and passing out at the 
 back of the head, laying open entirely one side 
 of the face and neck. In this ghastly wound, 
 amid blood and shattered teeth, had he fixed 
 his grasp with a tenacity which could not be 
 moved. Bleeding profusely, and convulsive 
 with agony, he lay for several minutes, the 
 most frightful spectacle I had ever witnessed. 
 The countenances of the spectators expressed 
 a conscious relief when it was announced by 
 the surgeon that death had ended his agony. 
 Meanwhile the murderer, with his party, had 
 left the ground. 
 
 One of the company was dispatched, on my 
 horse, to communicate the dreadful news to the 
 family of the victim. The dead young man 
 was cleansed from his blood, and borne imme¬ 
 diately to the carriage. I accompanied it into 
 
 N-. It stopped before a small, but elegant 
 
 house. The driver ran to the door and rapped 
 An elderly lady opened it with frantic agitation, 
 at the instant when we were lifting the ghastly 
 remains from the carriage. She gazed, as if 
 thunderstruck, for a moment, and fell fainting 
 in the doorway. A servant removed her into 
 tho parlor, and as we passed with the corpse 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS 49 
 
 into a rear room, I observed her extended on 
 a sofa as pale as her hapless son. We had just 
 laid the body on a table—the stiffened hand 
 still grasping the wound—when a young lady, 
 tastefully attired in white, and with a face deli¬ 
 cately beautiful, rushed into the room and threw 
 her arms around it, weeping with uncontrollable 
 emotion, and exclaiming with agony of feel¬ 
 ing, “ My brother !—my dear, dear brother !— 
 Can it be—O, can it be ?” The attendants tore 
 her away. I shall never forget the look of utter 
 wretchedness she wore as they led her past 
 me, her eyes suffused with tears, and her bosom 
 stained with her brother’s blood. 
 
 This unfortunate young man was of New- 
 England origin. He had settled in the town 
 
 of N-, where his business prospered so well 
 
 that he had invited his mother and sister to 
 reside with him. His home, endeared by gen¬ 
 tleness and love, and every temporal comfort, 
 was a scene of unalloyed happiness ; but in an 
 evil hour he yielded to a local and absurd pre¬ 
 judice, a sentiment of honor, falsely so called, 
 which his education should have taught him to 
 despise. He was less excusable than his mali¬ 
 cious murderer, for he had more light and better 
 sentiments. This one step ruined him and his 
 
 happy family. He was interred the next day, 
 
 4 
 
50 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 with the regrets of the whole community. His 
 poor mother never left the house till she was 
 carried to her grave, by his side. She died 
 after a delirious fever of two weeks’ duration, 
 throughout which she ceased not to implore 
 the attendants, with tears, to rescue her hapless 
 son from the hands of assassins, who she ima¬ 
 gined kept him concealed for their murderous 
 purpose. His sister still lives, but poor and 
 broken-hearted. Her beauty and her energies 
 nave been wasted by sorrow, and she is de¬ 
 pendent on others for her daily bread. 
 
 I have heard some uncertain reports of his 
 antagonist; the most probable of which is, that 
 he died three years after of the yellow fever at 
 New-Orleans, raging with the horrors of re¬ 
 morse. Such was the local estimation of this 
 bloody deed, that scarcely an effort was made 
 to bring him to justice. Alas, for the influence 
 of fashionable opinion ! It can silence, by its 
 dictates, the laws of man and of God, and exalt 
 murder to the glory of chivalry. 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 51 
 
 BISHOP ASBURY. 
 
 “ A workman that needeth not to be ashamed. ’ 
 
 St. Paul. 
 
 To have enjoyed the friendship of the great 
 and good Asbury may well be considered a 
 distinguished honor—his autographs on the 
 ordination certificates of the fathers of the 
 church are precious mementoes, and more 
 satisfactory authentications of their ministry 
 than could be the sign manual of any pope, 
 archbishop, or other supposed successor of the 
 apostles. If there are any episcopal seats in 
 heaven, assuredly there are few prelates since 
 St. Paul who will sit above Francis Asbury. 
 
 His marked characteristics are few, but re¬ 
 markably strong. They are not painted, in our 
 conception of his character, but sculptured. 
 He was altogether a most wonderful man. 
 Born in lowly circumstances, called early to 
 the ministry, and when in it burdened with 
 labors truly amazing, he had but little oppor¬ 
 tunity for mental cultivation. Yet he acquired 
 (how, is inconceivable) a knowledge of Latin, 
 Greek, and Hebrew ; he could read them, and 
 consulted them in studying the sacred text. 
 He was also singularly familiar with history. 
 
52 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 especially ecclesiastical history. Church po¬ 
 lity, in all its varieties, ancient and modern, he 
 had studied thoroughly, and referred to con¬ 
 stantly. In mental and moral science he was 
 more than a mere reader. In natural philo¬ 
 sophy he was generally accurate. He was a 
 more extensive reader than is generally sup¬ 
 posed. He had no knowledge of mathematics, 
 and his arithmetic was altogether original— 
 logical, not mechanical. He possessed an al¬ 
 most intuitive discernment of human character, 
 and was a remarkable physiognomist. He 
 had frequently surprised a whole conference by 
 stating the character of candidates whom he 
 had never seen before. He had a rare facility 
 in contracting the acquaintance of strangers. 
 He was frequently humorous, happy at repartee, 
 and always ready for any labor, however oner¬ 
 ous or sudden. An illustration occurs to my 
 memory. At the time my friend E. H. was sta¬ 
 tioned in B-, knowing that he would spend 
 
 a night there on his way to the L-- Confer¬ 
 
 ence, he made arrangements for him to preach 
 an anniversary sermon for a charitable society 
 just struggling into life, and advertised the ap¬ 
 pointment as extensively as possible in the 
 public prints. Toward evening the old bishop 
 arrived, wearied with a long and tedious jour- 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 53 
 
 ney. At an early hour the house was crowded 
 —the services commenced. He arose, and 
 read for his text 2 Corinthians viii, 8, “ I speak 
 not by commandment, but by occasion of the 
 forwardness of others, and to prove the sin¬ 
 cerity of your love.” The felicity of the text 
 and of the discourse was universally observed. 
 
 If the classical motto is true, Perseverantia 
 vincit omnia , (Perseverance conquers all things,) 
 he was capable of greatness in any department 
 of human ambition, for his great master trait 
 was a firmness of purpose which no hostility 
 could shake and no allurement seduce. When 
 once he entered on his immense labors in 
 America, his destiny was fixed. His indomi¬ 
 table energy bore him onward through journeys 
 long and perilous, labors arduous and inces¬ 
 sant, privations and vexations which none of 
 his European coadjutors knew, and this, not 
 during a brief interval of youthful zeal, or of 
 circumstances auspicious to an ardent ambition, 
 but through all possible discouragements, and 
 through the infirmities of age, when it was 
 necessary to assist him to and from his car¬ 
 riage, and when he could no longer stand, but 
 sat in the pulpit,—till, in fine, he dropped ex¬ 
 hausted into the grave. He was eminently a 
 man of one work, and in that work he was im- 
 
54 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 pelled by a quenchless zeal, which allowed no 
 leisure for any other consideration. It drew 
 him away from his native land and parental 
 home, and permitted no return. It induced him 
 to forego the felicities of domestic life, and 5o 
 pass through a long career without a local ha 
 bitation or a resting place. He was a noble 
 example of an evangelical bishop. He pos¬ 
 sessed all the personal dignity of the episcopal 
 office, without any of the assumed honors and 
 luxurious exemptions which are usually con¬ 
 nected with it. While he directed with in¬ 
 flexible authority the ministerial host of his 
 vast diocese, he transcended the meanest of 
 them in sufferings, labors, and journeyings. 
 Fifty-five years he was a preacher, and forty-five 
 of them he spent on our continent. It has been 
 estimated that he satin two hundred and twenty- 
 four annual conferences, and consecrated about 
 four thousand ministers. 
 
 I have said that his labors and sufferings 
 were unequaled by those of his transatlantic 
 coadjutors. He traveled usually about six 
 thousand miles a year, which exceeded the 
 journeyings of Wesley. Wesley’s field was 
 much less extended, and much more comfort¬ 
 able in every respect. He was in his own 
 country—had the best facilities for traveling— 
 
SKETCHES AN D INCIDENTS. 
 
 55 
 
 and moved through a nation supplied with all 
 the conveniences of life. Asbury was a fo¬ 
 reigner, and lived among us at a period of pro¬ 
 found antipathy toward his native land; but 
 when most others fled from the field he re¬ 
 mained, even though concealment was neces¬ 
 sary. The country was new and vast, yet he 
 traveled over its length and breadth, now 
 through its older settlements, and then along 
 its frontier lines, climbing mountains, fording 
 streams, sleeping under the trees of the forest, 
 or finding shelter for his wearied frame in log 
 cabins. 
 
 Whitefield, though he traveled over the same 
 continent, confined himself to its Atlantic cities, 
 where every convenience was lavishly afforded 
 him. Asbury pushed his course to the remotest 
 frontier, traveling frequently with the emigra¬ 
 ting caravan for protection from the savage, and 
 thanking God for the coarse fare which was 
 afforded him in the hut of the back-woods¬ 
 man. Whitefield’s theological opinions agreed 
 with the errors of the dominant churches, and 
 conciliated their favor. Asbury’s were de¬ 
 tested by them as among the worst forms of 
 heresy. Methodism had commenced before his 
 arrival on our continent, and no doubt would 
 have prospered more or less, but to his energy 
 
56 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 must be ascribed its wonderful progress. Spread 
 by his exertions, no barrier could stand before 
 it; it broke out on the right and on the left; 
 his incessant preaching and ceaseless travel¬ 
 ing, now in the north and then in the south, 
 now in the east and then in the west, gave it 
 almost an omnipresent and simultaneous action 
 through all the states. Though at the com¬ 
 mencement of his labors in this country 
 there were but six hundred members in the 
 church, when he fell it was victoriously at 
 the head of an army of two hundred and twelve 
 thousand , who were still exulting in their 
 strength, and pressing on to the spiritual con 
 quest of the land, like the hosts of war to the 
 charge ! 
 
 Wonderful man ! many of similar, but none 
 of equal powers, have followed in his footsteps. 
 With a ministry of such spirits, the regenera¬ 
 tion of our race would be the achievement of a 
 single age. Such a ministry, warring with the 
 mighty agencies of evil in our world, would 
 present the sublime spectacle of Milton’s battle 
 of the angels. And such a ministry (soul¬ 
 stirring thought!) is practicable. It was not 
 the possession of those powers which form the 
 prerogatives of genius that made Asbury what 
 he was. He displayed no splendid endow- 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 57 
 
 ment.s of intellect. His greatness arose more 
 from dispositions than from talents. Zeal, love 
 of man, and love of God, armed him with his 
 power, and these are attainable by all. They 
 gave him that determination of purpose which 
 bore down all that opposed it, and made him 
 “ mighty through God,” equaling in labors and 
 success Whitefield, or even Wesley, without 
 the genius of the one or the learning of the 
 other. While most of the great men who guided 
 the early movements of Methodism are illustra¬ 
 tions of the power of sanctified intellect, Asbury 
 seems to have been providentially raised up and 
 placed among them as an example of the power 
 of the ordinary faculties of man when sustained 
 by high moral motives, a sublime model, not 
 for the talented, like the former, but for all. 
 It has been justly remarked that he occupies 
 the place in the religious history of this country 
 which Washington does in its civil history 
 Methodism, toward which, on this continent, 
 he sustained the relation of leader, has already 
 outstripped all other sects, but is still in its 
 childhood: all its operations are yet in their 
 incipience. What will be its importance when 
 it reaches maturity? Then, perhaps, the honor 
 we claim for Asbury will be conceded. Meth¬ 
 odism, under Asbury, gave the impulse which 
 
58 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 roused most other sects, and spread over the 
 country the spirit of revivals. The time will 
 yet come when he will be acknowledged, not 
 merely the father of American Methodism, but 
 of American evangelism. 
 
 PRESENTIMENTS. 
 
 “ Secret things belong unto the Lord our God." 
 
 Moses. 
 
 I have lately received the Life of Mr. Watson. 
 The biographer, in relating his visit with Wat¬ 
 son to a certain village, says, “ In passing the 
 church-yard, Mr. Watson pointed to a conspicu¬ 
 ous grave, and said, ‘ The first time I traveled 
 this way, that grave-stone caught my eye, espe¬ 
 cially the words * * *, who died, aged forty- 
 two. A very strong impression, for which I 
 could not account, was immediately made upon 
 my mind, that I should die at precisely the 
 same age. The impression was both strong 
 and sudden ; I have already passed that age, 
 and this shows how little stress can be justly 
 laid upon those sudden impulses and impres¬ 
 sions, of which some people make so much 
 account.’ This impression, it appears, had 
 created considerable uneasiness in the family 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 59 
 
 of Mr. Watson ; but its effect on his own mind 
 it is not easy to determine.” 
 
 Watson possessed a vigorous mind, one that 
 we should suppose would be the last to indulge 
 fanatical or whimsical ideas ; we may learn, 
 therefore, from his case, the liability of weaker 
 minds to be deluded by such impressions. 
 Had he been as susceptible as his anxious 
 family, it is not improbable that he would have 
 worn away under the impression, fallen into 
 some fatal disease, and expired at the precise 
 time, and all this the result merely of imagina¬ 
 tion. Medical history is full of proofs on this 
 subject, and it is altogether probable that most 
 who die under such circumstances fall victims 
 to their own folly, instead of a revealed design 
 of Providence. Cases have been known where 
 criminals condemned to death have been blind¬ 
 folded, laid upon the block, slightly struck on 
 the neck with a cane, and taken up dead, with¬ 
 out the loss of a drop of blood. 
 
 It is singular with what tenacity these morbid 
 fears will cling to the mind, especially when 
 the system has been erervated by prolonged 
 excitement. No class of men, perhaps, are 
 more exposed to such excitement than Meth¬ 
 odist preachers, by both their extemporaneous 
 mode of speaking, which is accompanied often 
 
60 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 with intense emotion, and the frequency and 
 arduousness of their pastoral labors and social 
 meetings ; and perhaps most of them experi¬ 
 ence, at some time or other, its depressing 
 effects. 
 
 My old friend M., when stationed at B-, 
 
 had a brief and ludicrous attack of this species 
 of hypochondria. He had labored arduously 
 during several weeks, and not a few vexatious 
 difficulties had disturbed the church and ha¬ 
 rassed his mind. On returning late, and quite 
 exhausted, one night, from a meeting at which 
 he had felt uncommonly languid and dejected* 
 he was suddenly seized, as he entered his study, 
 with the impression that he had offended God, 
 and would die that very night. As usual with 
 a diseased state of the mind, the thought was 
 attended with profound melancholy. Of course 
 he thought not of sleep, but walked the floor in 
 agony for hours. Wearied at last by his rapid 
 paces, he seated himself, and, covering his face 
 with his hands, reclined his head on a table. 
 Thus situated, he prayed, wept, and trembled, 
 and as the time advanced, prayed, wept, and 
 trembled the more. At last, in his agony, and 
 with his hair on end, he rose to pace again the 
 floor, when, lo ! daylight was streaming in at 
 his window ! The illusion was gone, and the 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 61 
 
 astonished man knew not whether he ought to 
 smile or blush at his weakness. It was a 
 weakness, however, which a superior mind can 
 more easily despise than prevent. 
 
 It was my own misfortune once to suffer 
 much from one of these presentiments of death. 
 It was received while I was upon my knees in 
 private prayer. The circumstances were strong, 
 the impression at the time was singularly clear 
 and forcible, like an intuition. Subsequent 
 circumstances, too, seemed confirmatory of it. 
 The very next day an excellent Christian died 
 in the neighborhood, who had entertained such 
 a presentiment for months, and had even pro¬ 
 vided his coffin for the event. As the time 
 passed the omens became stronger ; by an acci¬ 
 dental exposure I took cold, was attacked with 
 cough, and confined to my room with incipient 
 symptoms of pulmonary consumption. How 
 easily would some minds have given way under 
 these circumstances, and have realized the 
 expected result! I had not, however, been 
 lisposed to superstitious fears, and knew the 
 caprices of the imagination, and its dangerous 
 influence on health. I therefore calmly endea¬ 
 vored to prepare my mind and circumstances 
 for any result, and waited through the period of 
 several weeks, within which I expected to die, 
 
62 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 and which terminated precisely with the year. 
 During this time I was confined to my room ; 
 the impression was inseparably present ; I 
 treated it with respect, but not with fear—it 
 might be from God, or it might not. The last 
 night came, but still there were a few hours, 
 and what might not occur in them ! I watched 
 until midnight, and not until the clock announced 
 that the last moment of the year had flown was 
 I clear from this remarkable illusion. I then 
 fell upon my knees, thanked God that I had 
 not fallen a victim to this weakness, and prayed 
 that I might better remember that “ the secret 
 things belong to the Lord our God; but those 
 things which are revealed belong unto us, and 
 to our children for ever, that we may do all 
 the words of his law.” It cannot be said that 
 God does not, in rare instances, reveal their 
 dying hours to his people ; but I never knew a 
 case which could be relied on, and the best 
 reasons apply against such a course on the part 
 of his providence. 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 63 
 
 ANECDOTES OF JESSE LEE. 
 
 “ A soft answer turneth away wrath .”— Solomon. 
 
 Jesse Lee was a genuine specimen of the 
 first school of Methodist preachers. Like As- 
 bury, he remained unmarried, that he might give 
 himself wholly to the ministry of the word. 
 Asbury prized him highly, and without doubt 
 wished his appointment as his own coadjutor 
 or successor, showing his confidence in his 
 abilities for the office, by using him as his sub¬ 
 stitute in attending annual conferences and 
 appointing the preachers. In labors he was 
 abundant, and many of the churches, from 
 Maine to Georgia, still preserve recollections 
 of him. His eloquence was sometimes remark¬ 
 able, smiting the conscience with remorse, or 
 melting the heart with uncontrollable emotion. 
 His person was large, and his countenance at 
 once expressive of two traits, which, though 
 somewhat opposite, were nevertheless united 
 and predominant in his nature—tenderness and 
 shrewdness. Though he could weep with those 
 who wept, few men have been happier at repar¬ 
 tee. Satire is a dangerous weapon, and perhaps 
 it was his fault, but he often used it with the 
 
64 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 best effect. Many a conceited gainsayer, in 
 attempting, after his sermons in the open air, 
 to embarrass him on metaphysical points, has 
 cowered beneath his replies, and retreated in 
 mortification and wonder. My lamented old 
 friend, Dr. Thomas Sargent, (himself one of 
 the pioneers,) has assured me that the current 
 anecdote of the Methodist preacher’s reply to 
 two lawyers on extemporary preaching actually 
 occurred with Jesse Lee. The shrewd itine¬ 
 rant had been preaching in a town during the 
 session of the court, and had dealt rather faith¬ 
 fully with the lawyers, two of whom were dis¬ 
 posed to make themselves merry at his expense. 
 The day on which the court adjourned he left 
 the place for another appointment. While 
 riding on his way, he perceived the two lawyers 
 hastening after him on horseback, with evident 
 expectations of amusement. They entered into 
 conversation with him on extemporaneous 
 speaking. “ Don’t you often make mistakes ?” 
 said one of them. “ Yes, sir.” “ Well, what do 
 you do with them 1 —Let them go ?” “ Some¬ 
 times I do,” replied the preacher, drily ; “ if 
 they are very important, I correct them ; if not, 
 or if they express the truth, though differently 
 from what I designed, why, I often let them go. 
 For instance, if, in preaching, I should wish V? 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 65 
 
 quote the text which says, ‘ The devil is a liar, 
 and the father of it,’ and should happen to mis¬ 
 quote it, and say he was a ‘ laviyer ,’ &c., why, 
 it is so near the truth, I should probably let it 
 pass.” The gentlemen of the bar looked at 
 each other, and were soon in advance, hasten¬ 
 ing on their way. 
 
 Many anecdotes are still related among the 
 old Methodists who knew him, which illustrate 
 his Christian meekness. The following is one. 
 I am indebted for it to his nephew, Rev. L. M. 
 Lee, who says the anecdote may be relied on 
 as having really transpired. It was communi¬ 
 cated to a member of the family under the fol¬ 
 lowing circumstances, by the individual most 
 involved in the affair :—Some few years since 
 a nephew of Mr.-Lee, engaged in some business 
 transaction in a store in Petersburg, Virginia, 
 and being addressed as Mr. Lee, attracted the 
 attention of an aged gentleman, General P., at 
 the same time in the store, who immediately 
 accosted him, and asked if he was a kinsman 
 of the Rev. Jesse Lee. On being informed that 
 he was a nephew, the general said he had long 
 desired to see some member of the old minis¬ 
 ter’s family, in order to communicate a circum¬ 
 stance that once occurred between himself and 
 Mr. Lee. On being told that, it would afford 
 
 5 
 
66 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 him pleasure to hear anything concerning his 
 venerable relative, the general proceeded to 
 relate in substance the following narrative :— 
 
 “ When I was a young man, I went to hear 
 
 Mr. Lee preach at-meeting-house. There 
 
 was a very large crowd in attendance, and a 
 great many could not get into the house. Among 
 others I got near the door, and being fond of 
 show and frolic, I indulged in some indiscretion, 
 for which Mr. Lee mildly, but plainly reproved 
 me. In an instant all the bad feelings of my 
 heart were roused. I was deeply insulted, and 
 felt that my whole family was disgraced. I 
 retired from the crowd to brood over the insult, 
 and meditate revenge. It was not long before 
 I resolved to whip him before he left the ground. 
 I kept the resolution to myself; and watched, 
 with the eager intensity of resentment, the op¬ 
 portunity to put it in execution. But the con¬ 
 gregation was dismissed and dispersed, and I 
 saw nothing of the preacher. How he escaped 
 me I could never learn. I looked on every 
 hand, scrutinized every departing group, but 
 saw nothing of the man I felt I hated, and was 
 resolved to whip. I went home sullen, morti¬ 
 fied, and filled with revenge. My victim had 
 escaped me. But I ‘ nursed my wrath to keep 
 it warm and cherished the determination to 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 67 
 
 put it into execution the first time I saw Mr. 
 Lee, although long years should intervene. 
 Gradually, however, my feelings subsided, and 
 my impressions of the insult became weakei 
 and less vivid ; and in the lapse of a few years 
 the whole affair faded away from my mind. 
 Thirteen years passed over me, and the im¬ 
 petuosity of youth had been softened down by 
 sober manhood, and gradually-approaching age 
 I was standing upon { the downhill of life.’ On 
 a beautiful morning in the early spring, I left 
 my residence to transact some business in Pe¬ 
 tersburg ; and on reaching the main road lead¬ 
 ing to town, I saw, a few hundred yards before 
 me, an elderly-looking man jogging slowly along 
 in a single gig. As soon as I saw him, it struck 
 me, That’s Jesse Lee. The name, the man, the 
 sight of him recalled all my recollections of the 
 insult, and all my purposes of resentment. I 
 strove to banish them all from my mind. I rea¬ 
 soned on the long years that had intervened 
 since the occurrence ; the impropriety of think¬ 
 ing of revenge, and the folly of executing a 
 purpose formed in anger, and after so long a 
 lapse of time. But the more I thought, the 
 warmer I became. My resolution stared me in 
 the face ; and something whispered coward in 
 mv heart if I failed to fulfill it. My mind was 
 
68 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 in a perfect tumult, and my passions waxed 
 strong. I determined to execute my resolution 
 to the utmost; and full of rage I spurred my 
 horse, and was soon at the side of the man that 
 I felt of all others I hated most. 
 
 “ I accosted him rather rudely with the ques¬ 
 tion, ‘ Are you not a Methodist preacher V 
 
 44 ‘ I pass for one,’ was the reply, and in a 
 manner that struck me as very meek. 
 
 44 ‘ An’t your name Jesse Lee V 
 
 “ ‘ Yes : that’s my name.’ 
 
 “ 4 Do you recollect preaching in the year 
 -at-meeting-house V 
 
 44 ‘ Yes ; very well.’ 
 
 “ 4 Well, do you recollect reproving a young 
 man on that occasion for some misbehavior ?’ 
 
 44 After a short pause for recollection, he re¬ 
 plied, 4 1 do.’ 
 
 44 4 Well,’ said I, 4 I am that young man ; and 
 I determined that I would whip you for it the 
 first time I saw you. I have never seen you 
 from that day until this ; and now I intend to 
 execute my resolution and whip you.’ 
 
 44 As soon as I finished speaking, the old man 
 stopped his horse, and looking me full in the 
 face, said, 4 You are a younger man than I am. 
 You are strong and active ; and I am old and 
 feeble. I have no doubt but, if I were disposed 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS 
 
 69 
 
 to fight, you could whip me very easily ; and it 
 would be useless for me to resist. But as a 
 “ man of God, I must not strive.” So as you 
 are determined to whip me, if you will just wait, 
 I will get out of my gig, and get down on my 
 knees, and you may whip me as long as you 
 please.’ 
 
 “ Never,” said the old general, “ was I so 
 suddenly and powerfully affected. I was com¬ 
 pletely overcome. I trembled from head to 
 foot. I would have given my estate if I had 
 never mentioned the subject. A strange weak¬ 
 ness came over my frame. I felt sick at heart; 
 ashamed, mortified, and degraded, I struck my 
 spurs into my horse, and dashed along the road 
 with the speed of a madman. What became 
 of the good old man I know not. I never saw 
 him after that painfully-remembered morning. 
 He has long since passed away from the earth ; 
 and has reaped the reward of the good, the 
 gentle, and the useful, in a world where ‘ the 
 wicked cease from troubling, and the weary find 
 eternal rest.’ 
 
 “ I am now old; few and full of evil have 
 been the days of the years of my life, yet I am 
 not now without hope in God. I have made 
 my peace with him who is * the Judge of the 
 quick and dead and hope ere long to see that 
 
70 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 good man of God with feelings very different 
 from those with which I met him last.” 
 
 The old man ceased. A glow of satisfaction 
 spread over his features, and a tear stood in his 
 eye. He seemed as if a burden was removed 
 from his heart—that he had disencumbered 
 himself of a load that had long pressed upon 
 his spirits. He had given his secret to the 
 near relative of the man he had once intended 
 to injure, but whose memory he now cherished 
 with feelings akin to those that unite the re¬ 
 deemed to each other, and bind the whole to 
 “ the Father of the spirits of all flesh.” 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 71 
 
 THE MORAL SUBLIME. 
 
 '* The sublime is an outward reflection of the inward 
 greatness of the soul.” —Longinus. 
 
 The moral sublime is the sublime in moral 
 action or endurance—the highest appeal to 
 human taste. In an extensive review of eccle¬ 
 siastical history which I have lately completed, 
 I have been struck with the numerous examples 
 which it affords of this noble greatness. 
 
 Profane history affords many sublime exam¬ 
 ples of endurance and self-sacrifice. The cases 
 of Socrates, Leonidas, Regulus, and Winkel- 
 ried, sustain our confidence in humanity and 
 our hopes of the world. But how far short of 
 the illustrious examples of the church are these 
 instances ! There is a peculiarity in the latter, 
 arising from religious influence, which ap¬ 
 proaches the sublimity of inspiration. How 
 calmly and majestically they suffer! What a 
 bearing of repose, like the classic statues of the 
 gods, they wear at the very stake, as if they 
 were beings of a superior essence, immortal, 
 and insensible to the effects of the elements ! 
 The instances of profane history are cases of 
 cool and stanch submission to stern principle 
 or hard necessity—magnanimous, indeed, but it 
 
72 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 is a dread magnanimity—a submission to suffer¬ 
 ing that is felt and endured, but not defied and 
 vanquished. Those of religion are examples 
 of calm triumph—of majestic superiority to 
 suffering, as if they were conscious of being 
 “ more than conquerors.” The former had for¬ 
 titude, but the latter courage. 
 
 What an impressive specimen of the moral 
 sublime is the last prayer of the gray-headed 
 Polycarp, at the stake ! He was nearly ninety 
 years old; the veneration and affections of all 
 the Asiatic churches centred in him. After 
 being exposed to the hootings of the populace, 
 and the aggravations of a mock trial, he was 
 led to the place of death, where, being bound and 
 all things ready for the match, he uttered this 
 memorable prayer, or rather thanksgiving :— 
 “ Father of thy well-beloved and blessed Son 
 Jesus Christ, through whom we have received 
 the knowledge of thee—God of angels and 
 powers, and all creation, and of all the family 
 of the righteous that live before thee—I bless 
 thee that thou hast counted me worthy of this 
 day, and of this hour,—an hour in which 1 am 
 to have a share in the number of the martyrs 
 and in the cup of Christ, unto the resurrection 
 of eternal life, both of the soul and the body, 
 in the incorruptible felicity of the Holy Spirit 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 73 
 
 Among whom may I be received this day, as a 
 rich and acceptable sacrifice, which thou, the 
 faithful and true God, hast prepared. Where¬ 
 fore on this account and for all things I praise 
 thee, I bless thee, I glorify thee, through the 
 eternal High Priest, Jesus Christ, thy well- 
 beloved Son. Through whom all glory be to 
 thee with him in the Holy Ghost, both now and 
 for ever. Amen.” The flames curled over him 
 and he was no more. 
 
 I scarcely know of a more sublime picture, 
 though not an instance of violent suffering, than 
 that of the death of the venerable Bede, as 
 described by one of his pupils. He was the 
 ornament of his country and of the eighth cen¬ 
 tury, and was employed at the time of his 
 death in rendering the Gospel of St. John into 
 the language of the people, the Anglo-Saxon. 
 “ Many nights,” says his disciple, “ he passed 
 without sleep, yet rejoicing and giving thanks, 
 unless when a little slumber intervened. When 
 he awoke he resumed his accustomed devo¬ 
 tions, and with expanded hands never ceased 
 giving thanks to God. By turns we read, and 
 by turns we wept; indeed, we always read in 
 tears. In such solemn joy we passed fifty 
 days ; but during these days, besides the lec¬ 
 tures he gave, he endeavored to compose two 
 
74 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 works, one of which was a translation of St 
 John into English. It has been observed of 
 him, that he never knew what it was to do 
 nothing. And after his breathing became still 
 shorter, he dictated cheerfully, and sometimes 
 said, ‘ Make haste; I know not how long I shall 
 hold out; my Maker may take me away very 
 soon.’ On one occasion, a pupil said to him, 
 * Most dear master, there is yet one chapter 
 wanting; do you think it troublesome to be 
 asked any more questions V He answered, ‘ It 
 is no trouble; take your pen and write fast . 1 
 He continued to converse cheerfully, and while 
 his friends wept as he told them they would see 
 him no more, they rejoiced to hear him say, 
 ‘ It is now time for me to return to Him who 
 made me. The time of my dissolution draws 
 near. I desire to be dissolved and to be with 
 Christ. Yes, my soul desires to see Christ in 
 his beauty.’ The pupil before mentioned said 
 to him, ‘ Dear master, one sentence is still 
 wanting.’ He replied, ‘ Write quickly .’ The 
 young man soon added, ‘ It is finished.’ He 
 answered, ‘ Thou hast well said, all is now 
 finished! Hold my head with thy hands. I 
 shall delight to sit on the opposite side of the 
 room, on the holy spot at which I have been 
 accustomed to pray, and where, while sitting, 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 75 
 
 I can invoke my Father.’ Being placed on 
 the floor of his little room, he sung, ‘ Glory be 
 to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy 
 Ghost,’ and died as he uttered the last word.” 
 What a scene for the painter! And one has 
 painted it, not in colors, but in equally-expres- 
 sive words :— 
 
 -Within his studious cell, 
 
 The man of mighty mind, 
 
 His cowl’d and venerable brow 
 With sickness pale, reclined. 
 
 “ Speed on!” Then flew the writer’s pen, 
 
 With grief and fear perplex’d; 
 
 For death’s sure footstep nearer drew 
 With each receding text. 
 
 The prompting breath more faintly came— 
 
 “ Speed on!—his form I see— 
 
 That awful messenger of God, 
 
 Who may not stay for me.” 
 
 “ Master , 'tis done.” “ Thou speakest well, 
 Life with thy lines kept pace.”— 
 
 They bear him to the place of prayer, 
 
 The death dew on his face; 
 
 And there, while o’er the gasping breast 
 The last keen torture stole, 
 
 With the high watchword of the skies, 
 
 Went forth that sainted soul. 
 
76 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 THE CONVERTED DUTCHMAN. 
 
 “ Now therefore ye are no more strangers and foreign 
 
 ers.” —Paul. 
 
 Among my old ministerial acquaintances is 
 the quaint B. H., now, like myself, on the 
 “ sick list” of the itinerant host. He was a pio¬ 
 neer evangelist among the Dutch settlers of 
 New-York, and many are the humorous anec¬ 
 dotes which he gathered among those untutored, 
 but honest-hearted rustics. He had a strong 
 susceptibility of the humorous, and would often 
 relate his comico-serious reminiscences with 
 such effect as to excite one part of the company 
 to tears and another to laughter, according to 
 the serious or mirthful propensity of the hearer. 
 One of these anecdotes I shall never forget. It 
 was his favorite, and by repeated requests he 
 was induced to put it on paper. I give it in his 
 own words, for the words are essential to the 
 sketch. It is the experience of a converted 
 Dutchman, as stated by himself in a class meet¬ 
 ing, and has always struck me as a correct re¬ 
 presentation of the workings of the human heart, 
 and of the triumphs of grace over the stinted 
 views of avarice. He said,— 
 
 “ Mine dear bredren, I want to tell you some 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 77 
 
 mine experience. When de Metodists first 
 came into dese parts, I tot I was doing bery 
 well; for mine wife and I had two sons, Ned 
 and Jim ; and we had a good farm dat Neddy 
 and I could work bery well, so I let Jim go out 
 to work about fourteen miles off from home. 
 But de Metodists come into our parts, and 
 Neddy went to dare meeting, and he got con¬ 
 verted, and I tot we should be all undone; so 
 I told Ned he must not go to dese Metodists 
 meetings, for so much praying and so much 
 going to meeting would ruin us all. But Neddy 
 said, ‘ O fader, I must serve de Lord and save 
 my soul.’ But, I said, you must do de work 
 too. So I gave him a hard stint on de day of 
 dere meeting; but he work so hard dat he got 
 his stint done, and went to de meeting after all. 
 While I set on mine stoop and smoked mine 
 pipe, I see him go over de hill to de Metodist 
 meeting, and I said to my wife, Elizabet, we 
 shall be undone, for our Ned will go to dese 
 meetings ; and she said, ‘ What can we do V 
 Well, I said, den I will stint him harder ; and 
 so I did several times when de meeting come. 
 But Neddy worked hard, and sometimes he got 
 some boys to help him, so dat he would go off 
 to de meeting while I set on mine stoop and 
 smoked mine pipe. T could see Ned go over 
 
78 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 de hill. I said one day, 0 mine Got, what can 
 I do—dis boy will go to dese meetings, after 
 all 1 can do! So when Ned come home I 
 said, Ned, you must leave off going to dese 
 meetings, or I will send for Jim to come home 
 and turn you away. But Neddy said, ‘ 0 fader, 
 I must serve de Lord and save my soul.’ Well, 
 den, I will send for Jim: so I sent for Jim; 
 and when he come home, den I heard he had 
 been to de Metodist meeting where he had lived, 
 and he was converted too. And Ned and Jim 
 both said, £ O fader, we must serve de Lord and 
 save our souls.’ But I said to mine wife, Dese 
 Metodists must be wrong; da will undo us all, 
 for da have got Ned and Jim both; I wish you 
 would go to dare meeting, and you can see 
 what is wrong; but Ned and Jim can’t see it. 
 So de next meeting day de old woman went 
 wid Ned and Jim ; but I set on mine stoop, and 
 smoked mine pipe. But I said to mine self, I 
 guess dese Metodists have got dar match to git 
 de old woman, and she will see what’s wrong 
 So I smoked mine pipe, and looked to see dem 
 come back. By and by I see dem coming; and 
 when da come near I see de tears run down 
 mine wife’s face. Den I said, 0 mine Got, da 
 have got de old woman too. I tot I am un¬ 
 done ; for da have got Ned, and Jim, and de 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 79 
 
 old woman. And when da come on de stoop 
 mine wife said, ‘ 0 we must not speak against 
 dis people, for da are de people of Got.’ But 
 I said noting, for I had not been to any of de 
 meetings, so I was in great trouble. But in a 
 few days after I heard dat dare was a Presby¬ 
 terian missionary going to preach a little ways 
 off; so I tot I would go, for I tot it would not 
 hurt anybody to go to his meeting; and I went 
 wid Ned, and Jim, and mine wife, and he 
 preached; but dere was noting done till after 
 de meeting was over, and den dere was two 
 young men in de toder room dat sung and 
 prayed so good as anybody; and da prayed 
 for dar old fader too. And many cried, and I 
 tot da prayed bery well. After dis I was going 
 out of de door to go home, and a woman said 
 
 to me, ‘ Mr.-, you must be a happy man to 
 
 have two such young men as dem dat prayed.’ 
 I said, Was that Ned and Jim? She said, ‘Yes.’ 
 O, I felt so mad to tink da had prayed for me, 
 and exposed me before all de people. But I 
 said noting, but went home, and I went right to 
 bed. But now my mind was more troubled dan 
 ever before, for I began to tink how wicked T 
 was to stint poor Neddy so hard, and try to 
 hinder him from saving his soul—but I said 
 noting, and mine wife said noting; so I tried 
 
80 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 to go to sleep; but as soon as I shut mine eyes 
 ' I could see Neddy going over de hill to go to 
 his meeting, after he had done his hard stint, so 
 tired and weary. Den I felt worse and worse ; 
 and by and by I groaned out, and mine wife 
 axt me 4 what’s de matter V I said, I believe I 
 am dying. She said, 4 Shall I call up Ned and 
 Jim V I said, Yes. And Jim come to de bed 
 and said, 4 0, fader, what is de matter V I said, 
 I believe I am dying. And he said, 4 Fader, 
 shall I pray for you V I said, 0 yes, and Neddy 
 too. And glory be to God, I believe he heard 
 prayer; for tough I felt mine sins like a moun¬ 
 tain load to sink me down to hell, I cried, 0 
 Got, have mercy on me, a poor sinner; and by 
 and by I feel something run all over me, and split 
 mine heart all to pieces, and I felt so humble 
 and so loving dat I rejoice and praise Got; and 
 now I am resolved to serve Got wit Ned, and 
 Jim, and mine wife, and dese Metodists.” 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 81 
 
 DR. COKE. 
 
 “A burning and a shining light.' 1 ' —John. 
 
 Dr. Coke was the foreign minister of Meth¬ 
 odism. He possessed a zealous and vivacious 
 spirit, which nothing could damp, but which 
 caught inspiration from discouragements, and, 
 like the impeded flood, grew stronger by ob¬ 
 structions. He had marked defects, but is one 
 of the most interesting characters in the history 
 of our church—an example of ministerial zeal 
 worthy of universal admiration and imitation. 
 His stature was low, his voice effeminate, but 
 his soul was as vast as ever dwelt in a human 
 bosom. He was the first bishop of the Meth¬ 
 odist Church in the United States, but found 
 not in a diocese co-extensive with the new 
 world room for his energies. Actuated by an 
 impulse which allowed him no rest, he was 
 perpetually contriving new measures for the 
 extension of the cause which he had embraced. 
 His plans, had he been a man of ordinary abili¬ 
 ties, would have entitled him to the character 
 of a visionary fanatic ; but he was one of those 
 are spirits whose schemes are but the outline 
 jf their grand conceptions, and whose concep- 
 ions are the legitimate products of their ener- 
 
 6 
 
82 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 gies. He crossed the Atlantic eighteen times 
 at his own expense. Until his death, he had 
 charge of the Methodist missions throughout 
 the world, a work for which he was undoubt¬ 
 edly raised up and qualified by God. He 
 founded the negro missions of the West Indies, 
 which will no doubt exert an important inllu* 
 ence on the destiny of those islands. They 
 included fifteen thousand members at the time 
 of his death. He visited the missions which 
 he had established, spent almost the whole of 
 his patrimonial fortune in their support, preached 
 for them, and begged for them from door to 
 door. The missionary spirit was with him “ as 
 a burning fire shut up in his bones.” When 
 a veteran of almost seventy years, we find him 
 presenting himself before the Wesleyan Con¬ 
 ference as a missionary for the East Indies. 
 The conference objected, on account of the 
 expense, when he himself offered to pay the 
 charges of the outfit, to the amount of six thou¬ 
 sand pounds. He prevailed over all objections, 
 and embarked with a small band of laborers ; 
 died on the voyage, and was buried in the 
 waves ; but the undertaking succeeded, and the 
 Wesleyan East India missions are the result. 
 It has been justly asserted that, next to Mr. 
 Wesley, no man was ever connected with tlio 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 83 
 
 Wesleyan body who contributed more to extend 
 the blessings of Christianity among mankind. 
 His colleague in the episcopacy of the Ameri¬ 
 can church would not allow of even this excep¬ 
 tion : “ A minister of Christ,” said Asbury, 
 when the news of his death arrived, “ a minis¬ 
 ter of Christ, in zeal, in labors, and in services, 
 the greatest man of the last century.” He 
 has also recorded the sentiment somewhere in 
 his Journal. 
 
 Coke was not merely energetic ; he possess¬ 
 ed a sagacity which was quick in its percep¬ 
 tions, and a comprehension wide in its range. 
 We owe to his judgment some of the most im¬ 
 portant features in the economy of American 
 Methodism. He first proposed and obtained a 
 permanent establishment of the General Con¬ 
 ference to be held at stated times,—a measure 
 which, in giving unity and energy to our vast 
 body, is perhaps unequaled in importance by 
 any other department of our system. In the 
 very outset, his comprehensive mind saw the 
 importance of that provision, the deficiency of 
 which has been, perhaps, our greatest loss, and 
 the supply of which is now so strenuously at¬ 
 tempted by us, educational institutions. He 
 bad no serious hostility to resist in his efforts 
 for such institutions ; but such was the ineffi- 
 
84 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 ciency, if not indifference, of most others, that 
 the honor of the attempt (and an honor it still 
 is, for it has silenced many a charge against us) 
 belongs almost exclusively to his name. Not 
 discouraged when the first establishment was 
 burned by fire, he pressed with all his energies 
 a second and even more extended attempt, and 
 ceased not his endeavors until he fully sue 
 ceeded. This institution shared the fate of its 
 predecessor, and (Dr. Coke being mostly abseni 
 from the country) Methodism was allowed U* 
 grow up without this great auxiliary. Wha£ 
 might have been the extent and maturity of 
 Christian education in our land at this momem 
 had the spirit of Coke been more general among 
 us at that period! The intelligent Methodise 
 cannot review the interval of indifference whici 
 followed but with mortification and pain, for tkf 
 immense influence and usefulness which it h?v» 
 subtracted from the church. 
 
 Cokesbury College flourished during its shot 
 day with much prosperity. The state legisla 
 ture voluntarily proffered an act of incorpora* 
 tion, with power to confer degrees. Offers 
 were made from Kentucky and Georgia, of land 
 and funds for the founding of similar institu¬ 
 tions ; a few influential persons pledged two 
 thousand acres of land, and one church sub- 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 85 
 
 scribed twelve thousand five hundred pounds of 
 tobacco. But the prospect of success which 
 was dawning, and, no doubt, would have opened 
 over the length and breadth of the nation, was 
 disregarded, through an absurd interpretation 
 of one of those providences which, if we may 
 learn from the past, seem preparatory for the 
 success of great plans,—the difficulty of their 
 first operation. It would have been as wise 
 to have abandoned Methodism, because of its 
 first trials, as it was to abandon education 
 because of the conflagration of Cokesbury 
 College. 
 
 Dr. Coke was not only useful in the superin¬ 
 tendence of great measures—he was active as 
 a preacher; all the minuter duties of a Meth¬ 
 odist itinerant, as far as they came within the 
 wide sweep of his ceaseless movements, he 
 performed, and at the same time made no small 
 use of his pen. Wesley used to say he was as 
 a right hand to him. He was unquestionably 
 the next character to Wesley himself in the 
 biographical catalogue of Methodism. It was 
 a noble sentiment recorded by him, at sea, on 
 his first voyage to America, and which illus¬ 
 trates as fully as language can his own charac¬ 
 ter, “ I want the wings of an eagle, and the 
 voice of n trumpet, that I may proclaim the 
 
86 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 gospel through the east and the west, the north 
 and the south.” 
 
 There is genuine sublimity in the end of this 
 veteran evangelist. Such a man belongs to no 
 locality—he belongs to the world ; though dead, 
 his influence is widening daily over the earth, 
 and it was fitting that he should be buried in 
 the ocean, whose waves might sound his re¬ 
 quiem on the shores of all lands. 
 
 PROGRESS IN PIETY. 
 
 11 Grow in grace.” —Paul. 
 
 Is it not the habit of most Christians, after 
 the first fervors of conversion, to content them¬ 
 selves with a uniform practice of the regular 
 duties of religion, maintaining a fixed temper 
 of mind, and expecting no very appreciable ad¬ 
 vances in piety, except, it may be, in seasons 
 of extraordinary revivals ? At least, it is un¬ 
 questionable that the proportion is very small in 
 the general church, who, in the strong language 
 of David, “ pant ” after the Lord. The Chris¬ 
 tian course is represented as a “ race.” How 
 absurd would it be for a racer to stop at frequent 
 intervals in his progress, or to start with ardor. 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 87 
 
 and then, folding his arms deliberately, walk to 
 the goal, as if no prize challenged him and no 
 spectators gazed at him ? Do most Christians 
 exemplify the strong language of St. Paul, 
 “ Seeing we are compassed about with so great 
 a cloud of witnesses, let us lay aside every 
 weight, and the sin that doth so easily beset 
 us, and let us run with patience the race that 
 is set before us ?” What a spectacle would the 
 church exhibit if each member maintained the 
 progressive spirit of his religion ! Of course the 
 collective mass would be progressive ; the term 
 revival would become obsolete, for the perpetual 
 spirit of the church would be lively and active. 
 The cultivation of a strenuous piety would in¬ 
 evitably lead to strong sympathy for the uncon¬ 
 verted, and the accession to the numbers of the 
 church would be proportionate to the accession 
 to its piety. The grand characteristic of the 
 millennial church will be the distinct and practi¬ 
 cal recognition of this principle. Its approach 
 will be indicated by the growth, and its con¬ 
 summation accomplished by the entire preva¬ 
 lence, of personal piety. 
 
 By what means can we make more progress 
 in personal piety ? Is not the first reason of our 
 small progress (first in the order of time as well 
 as in influence) the want of a definite aim toward 
 
88 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 it ? It is to be feared that most Christians 
 entertain but a feeble conviction of the duty of 
 spiritual progress—of “ going on,” as St. Paul 
 expresses it. We abandon ourselves to the 
 control of casual circumstances ; and are asleep 
 or awake as the influences around us may be 
 dull or quickening. Is not this almost univer¬ 
 sally the case ? Now what would we think of 
 an artisan who should enter his shop and 
 thoughtlessly take up his tools and apply him¬ 
 self indiscriminately to work on whatever ma¬ 
 terials came first to hand, and pursue this course 
 from day to day until his apartments should be 
 filled with fragments of work, with nothing 
 complete—no definite and final plan ? What 
 of an architect who should lay his foundations 
 without reference to the proposed building, or 
 a navigator who should spread his sails alike 
 to all winds, favorable and adverse, contem¬ 
 plating his desired port on his map, but not on 
 his compass ? In religion more than anything 
 else we want distinctness, directness. Single 
 out then the particular grace in which you are 
 most deficient, and apply yourself unto it dis¬ 
 tinctly and daily until you have attained it. 
 You can pray for other blessings, and perform 
 other duties ; but let this one be foremost. 
 Think about it, plan for it, bend everything 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 89 
 
 toward it. This advice is applicable not merely 
 to individual graces, but to the great summary 
 blessing of entire sanctification. Whether we 
 attain it gradually or instantaneously, we must 
 address ourselves to its pursuit directly and 
 earnestly, or never obtain it. It is not an accident 
 that may or may not occur in our experience, 
 but an object to be aimed at and labored for. 
 
 Again, we should make it a rule in our de¬ 
 votions, especially in prayer, never to fail to 
 receive immediate and sensible communications 
 from God. The excellent Mr. Benson main¬ 
 tained this resolution to the last; and those who 
 have read his memoirs know the result. This 
 is entirely a voluntary matter with ourselves. 
 
 God is always willing to bless us. If we apply 
 to him in faith, nothing can hinder. The rule 
 we now suggest would preserve the mind in a 
 state suited for the ready exercise of faith. 
 
 How remarkably remiss are we in our most 
 solemn devotions ! Would we approach mere 
 human greatness with the same indifference 
 as we do God ? Could we converse with an jL 
 earthly sovereign with the same heartlessness ? 
 Would a man beg for his life , as we plead for 
 our souls 1 Christian, rouse thyself! Endeavor 
 to feel more fully the reality of the divine pre¬ 
 sence, especially in the closet. Carry to the 
 
90 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 place of prayer the purpose not to cease thine 
 importunity till thou art blessed. The mere 
 purpose will destroy most of those desultory 
 thoughts which intrude into the sacred retire¬ 
 ment, and render its devotions vague and in¬ 
 effectual. 
 
 If Christ were visibly present at the hour of 
 prayer, would we apply to him as we now do 1 
 Would notour every word be more direct, more 
 confident ? And is he less really present, though 
 invisible ? Can we not habituate ourselves to a 
 vivid and immediate realization of his presence ? 
 Who will doubt it ? 
 
 A common reason of our slow progress is our 
 casual habit of reading the Scriptures. We fre¬ 
 quently say, but how seldom do we feel , that the 
 Scriptures are the word of God ? What would be 
 the moral effect of a daily interview with an an¬ 
 gel ? But what archangel could speak to us as 
 God speaks ? If the heavens should open above 
 us only once in our lives, and we behold the ex¬ 
 cellent glory, and converse with God, would not 
 the scene stamp our whole character ? Would 
 we be ordinary men afterward ? Would not its 
 brightness, as in the case of Moses on descend¬ 
 ing from the mount, continue to beam around our 
 persons ? But God does converse as infallibly 
 with us in his word. Alas ! we do not intently 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 91 
 
 apprehend it. The Scriptures, no doubt, have an 
 immense influence even on the collective mind 
 of communities where they are read, but it is 
 amazing that they do not imbue and dilate more 
 fully individual minds. If the perusal of classic 
 writings is so important for the formation of a 
 vigorous and elegant intellect—if the study of 
 the models of art is so effectual in the improve¬ 
 ment of genius—what ought to be the effect of 
 a daily converse with the conceptions of the 
 Infinite Mind ? Now, if the classic records, or 
 the celebrated specimens of art, were to be 
 glanced at as slightly, though as habitually, as 
 the Scriptures, would they ever impress their 
 excellences on the susceptibilities of genius ? 
 They must be examined; a paragraph or a 
 feature must be studied, thoroughly, laboriously. 
 In like manner should the Scriptures be studied. 
 In studying the models of taste, not only must 
 their import be comprehended by the student, 
 but the spirit, the anima which actuates the 
 writer or the artist must be caught—this is the 
 highest attainment of genius. There is much 
 reading, but little studying, of the Scriptures. 
 Our Saviour in his command uses the strongest 
 language, “ Search the Scriptures.” 
 
 The point of our remarks is simply that we 
 should study the word of God daily with express 
 
92 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 reference to the improvement of our piety. Such 
 a method, universally used, would develop an 
 efficacy in the truth which would surprise the 
 world. It would not be merely like the efficacy 
 of those occasional circumstances or impulses 
 which we usually depend upon for spiritual 
 improvement, nor merely like that of the horta¬ 
 tive addresses of the pulpit. These are all 
 enfeebled by human frailty. It would be potent 
 and sublime from its association with immediate 
 inspiration, and with the purest and grandest 
 truths, such as occupy angel minds. A Chris¬ 
 tian mind thoroughly conversant with the Scrip¬ 
 tures, and accustomed to drink from them as 
 from a fountain of spiritual refreshment, may 
 not manifest such a convulsive zeal, such spas¬ 
 modic action, as one which depends on impulsive 
 influences ; but it will always be more pro¬ 
 foundly vigorous, and serenely spiritual, like 
 the deep and steady river in contrast with its 
 tributary stream that leaps and worries down 
 the neighboring hill-side. Search, then, the 
 Scriptures, with the prayer that God would 
 “ sanctify you by his truth,” and remember that 
 his “ word is truth.” 
 
 Another reason of the small effect of our 
 efforts to advance in religion is frequently the 
 indulgence of some cherished sin. There is 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 93 
 
 no state of mind which will allow of spiritual 
 progress but that in which we are “ pressing ” 
 forward. One sin, however apparently insig¬ 
 nificant, may interfere with the most powerful 
 influences, as a small object near the eye may 
 exclude the light of the very sun. “ If I regard 
 iniquity in my heart,” says the Psalmist, “ the 
 Lord will not hear me” Do you complain, 
 Christian reader, of the barrenness of your soul, 
 of the feeble influence of all the means of grace 
 upon your heart ? Pause a moment, and inquire 
 if there is not some neutralizing element, some 
 favored, perhaps concealed sin. Rest not till 
 it is expelled. Remember the struggle is for 
 your soul; that one sin may be your ruin— 
 a taint of depravity which may diffuse itself 
 through your whole spirit, and desolate your 
 whole eternity. Lay aside, therefore, every 
 weight, and the sin that doth so easily beset 
 you, and run with patience the race set before 
 you. 
 
94 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 BLACK HARRY OF ST. EUSTATIUS. 
 
 Weeping may endure for a night: but joy cometh in 
 the morning." —Psalmist. 
 
 The constant travels and vicissitudes of Dr 
 Coke’s life furnished him an exhaustless fund 
 of anecdote, and his social disposition led him 
 to draw on it constantly in company. There is 
 one interesting fact which he often related as 
 an illustration of God’s care for both his church 
 and his individual children. Those who heard 
 the doctor preach from the text, “ Fear not, 
 little flock,” &c., in his flying visits to what 
 were in his day our feeblest societies, may re¬ 
 call the happy illustration, and those who may 
 think it savors too much of fiction will find it 
 authenticated in his private journals and by his 
 biographer. 
 
 On the 25th of December, 1786, he was un¬ 
 expectedly driven by unfavorable winds into 
 the harbor of Antigua, in the West Indies. 
 Actuated by that missionary zeal which allowed 
 him no rest, he immediately began to traverse 
 the islands, preaching wherever he could find 
 opportunity. He arrived at last, with his com¬ 
 panion Mr. Hammet, at St. Eustatius, which 
 belonged to the Dutch. As they landed they 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 95 
 
 were addressed by two colored men, who in¬ 
 quired, with a cordiality unusual among stran¬ 
 gers, “ if they belonged to the brethren.” The 
 doctor, supposing they referred to the Moravians, 
 6aid no, but remarked, that they belonged to the 
 same great spiritual family. The hospitable 
 negroes, however, made no mistake. The 
 doctor was surprised to learn that they had 
 come to welcome him, having received word 
 from the island of St. Christopher’s that he de¬ 
 signed to visit them. They were two of a num¬ 
 ber of free negroes who had actually hired a 
 house for his accommodation, which they called 
 his home, and had also provided for the expense 
 of his journey. They conducted him to his 
 new parsonage, where he was entertained with 
 profuse hospitality. 
 
 The doctor was taken by surprise. No mis¬ 
 sionary had been there, and the island was 
 destitute of the means of grace. These generous 
 colored people were evidently children of God : 
 his visit to them was received as that of an 
 angel, and yet there were mingled with their joy 
 signs of a common sorrow. With the utmost 
 interest he inquired into their history. They 
 informed him, in reply, that some months be¬ 
 fore, a slave named Harry had been brought to 
 the island from the United States, who was 
 
96 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 converted and had joined a Methodist class 
 before his removal. On arriving among them 
 Harry found himself without a religious asso¬ 
 ciate, and with no means of religious improve¬ 
 ment but his private devotions. The poor 
 African nevertheless maintained his fidelity to 
 his Lord. After much anxiety and prayer he 
 began publicly to proclaim to his fellow-servants 
 the name of Christ. Such an example was a 
 great novelty in the island, and attracted mu«h 
 attention. His congregations were large ; even 
 the governor of the island deigned to hear him, 
 and, by approving his course, indirectly pro¬ 
 tected him from the opposition to which his 
 servile condition would otherwise have exposed 
 him. 
 
 God owned the labors of his humble servant 
 and at times the Holy Spirit descended in over 
 whelming influence upon the multitude. Such 
 was the effect on many of the slaves, that they 
 fell like dead men to the earth, and lay for hours 
 insensible. At a meeting not long before the 
 doctor’s arrival, sixteen persons were thus struck 
 down under his exhortations. Such an extra¬ 
 ordinary circumstance excited a general sensa¬ 
 tion among the planters. They determined to 
 suppress the meetings. They appealed to the 
 governor, who immediately ordered the slave 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 97 
 
 before him, and forbade his.preaching by severe 
 penalties. So far had the planters succeeded 
 in exciting the morose temper of the governor, 
 that it was only by the intervention of the 
 supreme Judge that Harry was saved from 
 being cruelly flogged. His faithful labors were 
 now peremptorily stopped. It was a remark¬ 
 able coincidence that Dr. Coke arrived the very 
 day on which Harry was silenced ; hence the 
 mingled joy and sorrow of the “ little flock ” 
 who so hospitably entertained him. 
 
 After giving the doctor this information, they 
 insisted upon his preaching to them immedi¬ 
 ately, lest by delay the opportunity should be 
 lost; but fearing, from the silence which had 
 that day been imposed on Harry, that it might 
 result in more evil than good, he declined until 
 he should see the governor. Such, however, 
 was their hunger for the bread of life, that he 
 could not induce them to separate till they had 
 twice sung, and he had thrice joined with them 
 in prayer. 
 
 The doctor found, by his interview with the 
 authorities, that it would be imprudent to tarry 
 on the island. He therefore formed the little 
 persecuted band into classes under the most 
 prudent man he could find among them, and, 
 
 committing them to God, departed amid their 
 
 7 
 
98 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 tears and prayers. So amply had they supplied 
 liim with fruits and other provisions, that in a 
 voyage of near three weeks, during which eight 
 persons shared these bounties with him, they 
 were not exhausted. 
 
 Poor Harry, suspected and watched, did not 
 presume to preach again ; but supposing, after 
 a considerable interval, that the excitement 
 against him had ceased, and that the prohibition 
 only extended to his preaching, he ventured to 
 pray openly with his brethren. Pie was imme¬ 
 diately summoned before the governor, and sen¬ 
 tenced to be publicly whipped, then imprisoned, 
 and afterward banished from the island. The 
 sentence was executed with unrelenting cruelty, 
 but the poor negro felt himself honored in 
 suffering for his Master. While the blood 
 streamed from his back, his Christian fortitude 
 was unshaken. From the whipping-post he 
 was taken to prison, whence he was secretly 
 removed, but whither none of his little company 
 could discover. 
 
 In 1789 Dr. Coke returned to the West In* 
 dies. After preaching at many other islands, 
 he again visited St. Eustatius to comfort its 
 suffering society. The spirit of persecution 
 still raged there, and the fate of Plarry was still 
 wrapped in impenetrable mystery. None of 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 99 
 
 his associates had been able to obtain the 
 slightest information respecting him since his 
 disappearance. A cruel edict had been passed 
 by the local government, inflicting thirty-nine 
 lashes on any colored man who should be 
 found praying. It seemed the determination 
 of the authorities to banish religion from the 
 island ; yet the seed sown by Harry had sprung 
 up, and nothing could uproot it. During all 
 these trials the little society of St. Eustatius 
 had been growing, its persecuted members had 
 contrived, by some means, to preserve their 
 union, and the doctor found them two hundred 
 and fifty-eight strong, and privately baptized 
 many before his departure. They had been, 
 indeed, “ hid with Christ in God.” The govern¬ 
 ment again drove him from the island. 
 
 After visiting the United States and England, 
 this tireless man of God was, in 1790, again 
 sounding the alarm among the West India 
 Islands, and again he visited St. Eustatius. A 
 new governor had been appointed, and he hoped 
 for a better reception, but he was repelled as 
 obstinately as before. Still the great Shepherd 
 took care of the flock. The rigor of the laws 
 against them had been somewhat relaxed, and, 
 in the providence of God, eight exhorters had 
 arisen among them, who were extensively use- 
 
100 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 ful to the slaves. To these and to the leaders 
 he gave private advice and comfort, and, com¬ 
 mitting them to God, who had hitherto so mar¬ 
 velously kept them, he again departed. The 
 chief care of the society devolved on a person 
 named Ryley, who, about four years previously, 
 had been converted under the labors of black 
 Harry. Harry’s fate was still involved in mys¬ 
 terious secrecy, and his friends indulged the 
 worst fears. But his “ works followed him 
 he had kindled a fire in St. Eustatius which 
 many waters could not quench. On his return 
 to England Dr. Coke interested the Wesleyan 
 churches in his behalf, and many were the 
 prayers which ascended for him and the afflict¬ 
 ed church which he had planted. 
 
 In 1792 the doctor again visited the island, 
 but he was not allowed to preach. Nothing 
 was yet known of the fate of poor Harry. The 
 spirit of persecution still prevailed, and even 
 feeble women had been dragged to the whip¬ 
 ping-post for having met for prayer. But, 
 in the good providence of God, religion still 
 prospered secretly, and the classes met by 
 stealth. The doctor left them with a deter¬ 
 mination to go to Holland and solicit the inter¬ 
 position of the parent government. This he 
 did with his usual perseverance, but not with 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 lOi 
 
 success. The tyranny of the local government 
 continued about twelve years longer ; but the 
 great Head of the church at last sent deliver¬ 
 ance to his people. In 1804, about eighteen 
 years after Harry was silenced, a missionary 
 was admitted to the island ; a chapel was after¬ 
 ward built and Sunday schools established, and 
 St. Eustatius has since continued to be named 
 among the successful missions of the West 
 Indies. Dr. Coke lived to see this long-closed 
 door opened, and the devoted missionary enter 
 with the bread of life for the famishing, but 
 faithful little band of disciples. 
 
 Thus does the providence of God protect 
 those who put their trust in him. “ Weeping 
 may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the 
 morning.” God will, sooner or later, help those 
 who help themselves. 
 
 But what became of poor Harry ? During 
 about ten years his fate was unknown, and all 
 hope of discerning it before the sea should give 
 up its dead was abandoned. About this time 
 the doctor again visited the States. One even¬ 
 ing, after preaching, he was followed to his 
 room by a colored man, deeply affected. It 
 was poor black Harry ! Reader, what would 
 you not have given to witness that inter¬ 
 view ? He had been sent in a cargo of slaves 
 
102 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 to the States, but was now free. Through all 
 these years and changes he had “ kept the 
 faith,” and was still exercising himself with 
 continued usefulness in the sphere which he 
 occupied. 
 
 THE WAY OF LIFE. 
 
 “ He that believeth shall be saved. 1 ' —Christ. 
 
 How plain is the way of life ; how explicit 
 is the statement of the plan of salvation! “ By 
 grace are ye saved through faith; and that not 
 of yourselves ; it is the gift of God, not of works, 
 lest any man should boast.” The apostle af¬ 
 firms, first, the great proposition of salvation, 
 “ ye are saved ;” secondly, the primary cause of 
 it, “grace ;” and thirdly, the instrumental cause, 
 “faith ;” and how carefully he guards against 
 Pelagian confidence, “ Not of yourselves, it is 
 the gift of God ;” and again he repeats it, “ not 
 of works, lest any man should boast.” It would 
 seem impossible to mistake the universal import 
 of the New Testament on this its ostensible 
 topic, but how many misapprehend it!—how 
 many grope through long lives down to the 
 grave with the Bible in their hands, ignorant 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 103 
 
 of its first principle, and never knowing that 
 peace in believing which is its balm for the heart’s 
 wretchedness ! The churches of whole lands 
 have lost sight of the doctrine of justification 
 b’ faith ; lands, too, profoundly skilled in Scrip¬ 
 tural exegesis. Alas, for the perversity of 
 man! Though pervaded with depravity, dead 
 in trespasses and sins, miserable and lost, yet 
 would he presume to confront the throne of his 
 Judge with pretences of merit. 
 
 Such were my reflections as I descended 
 from the chamber of an individual whose life 
 was flickering with consumption, like the ex 
 piring taper in its socket, and whose only solace 
 for the future was the reflection that he had 
 been just to his fellow-men. As his is not an 
 uncommon case, its introduction here may be 
 useful to others. 
 
 On taking a seat by his bed, I expressed my 
 sympathy for his sufferings, and my hope that 
 they were working out for him a far more ex¬ 
 ceeding and eternal weight, of glory. 
 
 He hesitated in his answer, and remarked 
 that “ death was dreadful to a man under anv 
 circumstances.” 
 
 “ And yet,” said I, “ ‘ the sting of death is 
 sin and Paul exclaims, 4 O death, where is 
 thy sting ? 0 grave, where is thy victory ? 
 
104 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 Thanks be to God, who giveth us the victory, 
 through our Lord Jesus Christ.’ The primitive 
 Christians seemed to anticipate it as altogether 
 desirable. The same apostle says expressly, 
 ‘ I desire to depart and be with Christand he 
 represents the Corinthian brethren as ‘ willing 
 rather to be absent from the body and to be 
 present with the Lord nay, as ‘ groaning’ in 
 ‘ this tabernacle,’ ‘ earnestly desiring to be 
 clothed upon with their house which is from 
 heaven.’ ” 
 
 “ Yes,” replied the sick man ; “ but the church 
 is not now what it then was. Still, God is 
 merciful. I place my trust in him. I have en¬ 
 deavored to live honestly, and I hope I shall 
 die in peace.” 
 
 I was startled at his defective views, for he 
 had been the child of religious parents, and had 
 faithfully observed the external duties of reli¬ 
 gion. I endeavored to convince him of the 
 depravity of the heart, and its utter unfitness 
 for heaven without faith in Christ and the 
 renewal of the Holy Ghost. My reasonings 
 were evidently heard with reluctance, but I 
 hoped with effect, and, praying for the blessing 
 of the Spirit upon them, I took my leave, design¬ 
 ing to call again after allowing him sufficient 
 time for reflection. 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 105 
 
 He was born and educated in Massachusetts. 
 With a strictly Puritan morality, he united the 
 practical tact, general intelligence, and not a 
 little of the metaphysical acuteness of New- 
 England. At my first visit he showed quite a 
 propensity to rebut my appeals by logical diffi¬ 
 culties. It was my ardent prayer, as I went to 
 his chamber the next day, that the Lord would 
 enable me to strip from him that guise of self- 
 righteousness which, instead of the wedding 
 garment, is the winding sheet of the soul, one, 
 alas! in which many a self-deluded sinner has 
 laid down in eternal death. I perceived imme¬ 
 diately that my former conversation had pro¬ 
 duced an effect. He seemed anxious and in¬ 
 quisitive, but still unwilling to abandon his false 
 reliance. 
 
 “ But do you not think, sir,” said he, “ that 
 an honest man will be saved ?” 
 
 “ Yes, a truly honest man, honest toward God 
 as well as man, he who honestly conforms to 
 God’s terms of salvation ; not one who is honest 
 only according to the moral standard of the 
 world, but he who lives by faith, for * by grace 
 ye are saved through faith ; and that not of 
 yourselves ; it is the gift of God, not of works, 
 lest any man should boast,’ and ‘ he that be- 
 lieveth not shall be damned.’” 
 
106 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 “ But can there be much difference between 
 strict morality and piety ?” 
 
 “ The difference is vast. Look at a few 
 particulars. Morality, so called, in its highest 
 form, proposes nothing but present and future 
 uprightness. True religion proposes this, but 
 also the pardon of the past. The strictest mo¬ 
 ralist will admit that he has sinned in the past, 
 but he makes no provision for past sin. Utter 
 rectitude in the present and the future is no 
 more than his duty ; it can involve no superero- 
 gative merit which might be transferred to the 
 past. What hope has he, then 1 The fatal 
 plague spot, however small, is upon him. One 
 sin introduced 1 death and all our woone sin 
 unforgiven is a spring which, touched by the 
 hand of death, will throw all his eternal desti¬ 
 nies into ruin. The Christian has a provision 
 for the past, for he believes in £ him whom God 
 hath set forth to be a propitiation through faith 
 in his blood, to declare his righteousness for the 
 remission of sins that are past.’ 
 
 “ Again. Morality is generally limited to 
 relative duties, those which are mutual among 
 men ; these form but one class of duties, and 
 though an important, yet a secondary class. 
 Man has a higher relation than that which binds 
 him to his fellows ; he is related to God, and 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 107 
 
 this relation involves duties ; the duties of filial 
 love, of prayer, of praise, and all acts of spiritual 
 devotion. The moralist prides himself on his 
 fidelity to man, while he recklessly refuses the 
 higher claims of God. What though he com¬ 
 mits no positive sin against society, yet he is 
 every moment guilty of negative sins against 
 God. And negative sins may be as guilty as 
 positive ones. Positive crimes appear to us 
 more enormous because recognized and punish¬ 
 ed by human law ; but who can say that to re¬ 
 fuse to love or worship God is not as great a 
 sin, nay, greater than theft or murder ? 1 do not 
 
 say it is, but who can assert it is not? What, 
 then, is the character of the man who has been 
 all his life incurring such guilt ? How can he 
 enter the presence of his insulted God ? 
 
 “ And then look at the sentiments which 
 usually accompany morality. How do they 
 contrast with those of true religion 1 They are 
 sentiments of pride, of honor, so called. Like 
 the Pharisee in the temple, the moralist flatters 
 himself that he is not like other men. Not so 
 the Christian : he feels himself to be the chief 
 of sinners; of himself he is but weakness and 
 guiltiness. And yet, while he knows that of 
 himself he can do nothing, there is within him 
 a sublime consciousness of power, the indwell- 
 
108 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 ing Godhead, and he feels that he can do all 
 things through Christ, which strengtheneth him. 
 
 “ Morality is a self-imposed virtue; true re¬ 
 ligion is the renewal of the heart by the Holy 
 Ghost received by faith. It is ‘ the life of God 
 in the soul of man.’ Lean not, then, my dear 
 friend, on this broken reed. You are hastening 
 to your end ; look to the Lamb of God, which 
 taketh away the sins of the world. He is your 
 only hope.” 
 
 With tears in his eyes, the sick man replied, 
 “ O that I had given my attention to these things 
 earlier! I would do right, I wish to be honest 
 with myself. I have not been satisfied with 
 my condition, and every hour it grows more 
 doubtful. Your arguments appear correct, and 
 yet I am perplexed to know why so much im¬ 
 portance is attached to faith—why all the hopes 
 and promises of religion are suspended on it.” 
 
 “ It should be a sufficient answer,” I replied, 
 “ that Infinite Wisdom has seen fit so to con¬ 
 struct the economy of salvation, and therefore 
 the reasons for the fact, however mysterious to 
 us, must be important. But there are many 
 considerations which give an obvious propriety 
 to this peculiarity of the Christian system. 
 
 “ A religion which should not provide for the 
 practical improvement of its followers would be 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 109 
 
 of little advantage to the world; and yet one 
 that should make the hope of salvation depend¬ 
 ent upon practical duties would be but a ministry 
 of condemnation, especially to all who, by ad¬ 
 vanced years, or sickness, or sudden death, are 
 placed beyond the reach of the self-discipline 
 of active virtue ; it would likewise tend to its 
 own destruction, by giving occasion to the self- 
 dependence and self-righteousness of those who 
 receive it. Now the gospel avoids this liability 
 by making salvation dependent entirely on a 
 principle which involves no merit in itself, but 
 tacitly ascribes it all to God, and yet implies 
 such a frame of mind as necessarily will produce 
 the exercise of every practical virtue. Faith, by 
 implying the absence of all self-dependence, 
 produces humility; by reposing all its depend¬ 
 ence on God leads to gratitude and love, and 
 gratitude and love lead to adoration ; and, like 
 the filial dependence and love of the child to 
 the parent, they lead also to all obedience and 
 faithfulness. Works have therefore properly 
 been called the evidences of faith. The two 
 most appropriate sentiments to the human mind 
 are kept in lively exercise by faith, namely, the 
 exaltation of God and abasement of self. God’s 
 goodness, and our own utter inability, are per¬ 
 petually suggested by it. Its exercise is direct 
 
110 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 communion with God. If we were to be saved 
 by the secondary instrumentality of works, we 
 might forget God in our attention to subordinate 
 means ; but faith is an application directly to 
 his throne, and brings us into the light of his 
 excellent glory. 
 
 “How admirably is Christianity thus adapted 
 to what must always be the great object of true 
 religion, the improvement, the moral discipline 
 of man, and by a process, too, which to the 
 superficial eye of the skeptic appears calculated 
 to do away the force of moral duties ! Indeed, 
 the more the great doctrine of the atonement is 
 scrutinized, the more manifest are its claims to 
 be called the wisdom and the power of God. 
 What form of truth could be better suited than 
 this for all the purposes of pure and spiritual 
 religion ? What one could more exalt God and 
 improve man ? What one could more fully dig¬ 
 nify the justice of the divine throne, and yet 
 crown with mercy and hope the most dangerous 
 emergency of the penitent sinner ? What one 
 could better meet your own case, my dear friend? 
 Is it not what you need? and will you not em¬ 
 brace it ? 0 believe and be saved.” 
 
 Seldom have I seen a more affecting expres¬ 
 sion of self-abandonment, and anxiety, hope, 
 and humility, than was presented by this poor 
 
SKETCHES AND 'INCIDENTS. 
 
 llJ 
 
 liivalid at the close of the conversation. The 
 Spirit of God was evidently striving with him. 
 With weeping eyes and the tenderness of a 
 child, he exclaimed, “ O, sir, this is just what 
 1 need. I am standing between both worlds, 
 and in all the universe around me I see but one 
 object upon which I can fix my eyes with con¬ 
 fidence, and that is the cross. I tremble even 
 as I look at that symbol of love and mercy. O, 
 can it be that I may be saved ?” 
 
 I conversed with him longer, and commended 
 him to the grace of God in prayer. 
 
 For more than a week after this visit I was 
 absent at conference, leaving my charge in the 
 care of a local preacher, who visited him daily. 
 During one of these calls he received peace in 
 believing, and had since been daily sinking 
 under disease, but rejoicing in hope of the glory 
 of God. On my return I immediately visited 
 him. He was not expected to survive the day. 
 His utterance was difficult, but his mind glowed 
 with that brilliancy and vigor which so often 
 accompany this fatal, but gentle disease. His 
 late, but complete change, was a remarkable 
 instance of the power of grace, and the Lord 
 deigned to him a triumphant exit. It would be 
 interesting to give the details of his final expe¬ 
 rience ; but my design has been to show the 
 
112 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 fallacy of his erroneous views, and this outline 
 has already extended too far. Let it suffice to 
 say, that the grace which had thus remarkably 
 rescued him cheered with increasing consola 
 tion his remaining hours. I penciled a few of 
 his dying sentences. 
 
 “ How astonishing was my delusion! how 
 diffeient my life now looks ! guilt—guilt—guilt 
 —all is guilt. I am a brand plucked from the 
 burning. I am saved on the very threshold of 
 hell.” 
 
 “ O that I had more strength to praise Him! 
 My time is so short, and so little of it has been 
 devoted to Him, I want to testify his wondenul 
 mercy every instant.” 
 
 “ I cannot fear; his boundless grace sur¬ 
 rounds and sustains me. Well did the Psalmist 
 call it the ‘ valley of the shadow of death.’ 
 It is but a shadow , a shade in a refreshing- 
 valley.” 
 
 “ I would not exchange this dying bed for 
 the throne of a monarch ; all my trust is in God, 
 and I could now trust him, though all fallen 
 spirits should gather about me. I am going, 
 going, going to my Lord and Saviour; though 
 at the eleventh hour, I am saved. I am saved 
 Let none hereafter despair.” 
 
 With similar expressions, he lingered about 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIEENTS. 
 
 113 
 
 two hours, and then sweetly fell asleep in Jesus. 
 “ He that believeth shall be saved.” Blessed 
 be God, the truth has never failed. 
 
 ORIGIN OF THE METHODIST ECONOMY. 
 
 “ God hath chosen the weak things of the world to 
 confound the mighty —Paul. 
 
 The origin of Methodism has always ap¬ 
 peared to me a remarkable chapter in the his¬ 
 tory of Providence, and its economy one of the 
 most remarkable passages in that chapter. 
 
 Time has proved it to be the most efficient 
 of all modern religious organizations, not only 
 among the dispersed population of a new coun¬ 
 try, but also in the dense community of an an¬ 
 cient people; on the American frontier, and in 
 the English city, it is found efficacious beyond 
 all other plans, stimulating, impelling all others, 
 and yet outstripping them. 
 
 This wonderful system of religious instru¬ 
 mentalities was not conceived a priori. It was 
 not. the result of sagacious foresight; it grew 
 up spontaneously. Its elementary parts were 
 evolved unexpectedly in the progress of the sect. 
 
 Wesley saw that the state of religion throughout 
 
 8 
 
i 14 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 the English nation required a thorough re¬ 
 form ; and “ felt in himself,” says Southey, 
 “ the power and the will for it, both in such 
 plenitude, that they appeared to him a manifesta¬ 
 tion not to be doubted of the will of Heaven.” 
 He looked not into the future, but. consulted only 
 the openings of present duty. “ Whither/’ says 
 the same author, “ they were to lead he knew 
 not, nor what form of consistence the societies 
 ne was collecting would assume, nor where he 
 was to find laborers as he enlarged the field 
 of his operations, nor how the scheme was to 
 derive its temporal support. But these con¬ 
 siderations neither troubled him, nor made him 
 for a moment foreslacken his course. God, he 
 believed, had appointed it, and God would 
 always appoint means for his own ends.” 
 
 He expected at first to keep within the re¬ 
 strictions of the national Church, to which he 
 was devotedly attached. The manner in which 
 he was providentially led to adopt, one by one, 
 the peculiar measures which at last consolidated 
 into a distinct and unparalleled system, is an 
 interesting feature in the history of Methodism 
 Let us trace it a moment. 
 
 The doctrines which he preached, and the 
 novel emphasis with which he preached them, 
 led to his expulsion from the pulpits of the 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 115 
 
 Establishment. This, together with the im¬ 
 mense assemblies he attracted, compelled him 
 to proclaim them in the open air —a measure 
 which the moral wants of the country demanded, 
 and which is justified, as well by the example 
 of Christ as by its incalculable results. 
 
 The inconvenience of the “ rooms” occupied 
 by his followers for spiritual meetings at Bristol 
 led to the erection of a more commodious edi¬ 
 fice. This was a place of occasional preaching, 
 then of regular worship, and finally, without the 
 slightest anticipation of such a result, the first in 
 a series of chapels which became the habitual 
 resort of his followers, and thereby contributed, 
 more, perhaps, than any other cause, to their 
 organization into a distinct sect. 
 
 The debt incurred by this building rendered 
 necessary a plan of contribution among those 
 who assembled in it. They agreed to pay a 
 penny a week. They were divided into com¬ 
 panies of twelve, one of whom, called the leader, 
 was appointed to receive their contributions. 
 At their weekly meetings for the payment of 
 this small sum, they found leisure for religious 
 conversation and prayer. These companies, 
 formed thus for a local and temporary object, 
 were afterward called classes, and the arrange¬ 
 ment was incorporated into the regular economy 
 
116 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 of Methodism. In this manner originated one 
 of the most distinctive features of our system— 
 our classes—the advantages of which are be¬ 
 yond all estimation. The class meeting has, 
 more than any other means, preserved our ori¬ 
 ginal purity. It is the best school of experi¬ 
 mental divinity the world has ever seen. It 
 has given a sociality of spirit and a disciplinary 
 training to Methodism which are equaled in no 
 other sect. 
 
 We cannot but admire the providential adap¬ 
 tation of this institution to another which was 
 subsequently to become all-important in our 
 economy—I mean an itinerant ministry. Such 
 a ministry could not admit of much pastoral 
 labor, especially in the new world, where the 
 circuits were long. The class leader became 
 a substitute for the preacher in this department 
 of his office. The fruits of an itinerant ministry 
 must have disappeared in many, perhaps most 
 places, during the long intervals which elapsed 
 between the visits of the earlier preachers, had 
 they not been preserved by the class meeting. 
 A small class has been the germ of almost every 
 church we have formed. It was the germ from 
 which has developed the whole growth of our 
 vast cause, for it was the first organic form of 
 Methodism. 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 117 
 
 Another most important result of the class 
 meetings, formed so accidentally, or rather pro¬ 
 videntially, at Bristol, was the pecuniary provi¬ 
 sion they led to for the prosecution of the plans 
 which were daily enlarging under the hands of 
 Wesley. The whole fiscal system of Methodism 
 arose from the Bristol penny collections. Thus, 
 without foreseeing the great independent cause 
 he was about to establish, Wesley formed, 
 through a slight circumstance, a simple and yet 
 most complete system of finance for the im¬ 
 mense expenses which its future prosecution 
 would involve. And how admirably was this 
 pecuniary system adapted to the circumstances 
 of that cause ! He was destined to raise up a 
 vast religious combination; it was to include 
 the poorer classes, and yet require large pecu¬ 
 niary resources. How were these resources 
 to be provided among a poor people ? The pro¬ 
 ject presents a complete dilemma. The provi¬ 
 dential formation of a plan of finance which 
 suited the poverty of the poorest, and which 
 worldly sagacity would have contemned, ban¬ 
 ished all difficulty, and has led to pecuniary 
 results which have surprised the world. 
 
 That other important peculiarity of our church 
 already alluded to, a lay and itinerant ministry , 
 was equally providential in its origin. Wesley 
 
118 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 was at first opposed to the employment of lay 
 preachers. He expected the co-operation of 
 the regular clergy. They, however, were his 
 most hostile antagonists. Meanwhile, the small 
 societies formed by his followers for spiritual 
 improvement increased. “ What,” says he, 
 “ was to be done in a case of so extreme neces¬ 
 sity, where so many souls lay at stake ? No 
 clergyman would assist at all. The expedient 
 that remained was to seek some one among 
 themselves who was upright of heart and of 
 sound judgment in the things of God, and to 
 desire him to meet the rest as often as he could, 
 to confirm them, as he was able, in the ways 
 of God, either by reading to them, or by prayer 
 or exhortation.” This was the origin of the 
 Methodist lay ministry. 
 
 The multiplication of societies exceeded the 
 increase of preachers. This rendered it neces¬ 
 sary that the latter should itinerate, and thence 
 arose the Methodist itinerancy. Our itinerancy 
 is the most admirable feature in our whole mi¬ 
 nisterial system. It is not a labor-saving pro¬ 
 vision—it is the contrary of this—but it is truly 
 a laborer-saving one. The pastoral service, 
 which otherwise would have been confined to a 
 single parish, is extended by this plan to scores, 
 and sometimes hundreds, of towns and villages, 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 119 
 
 and, by the co-operation of the class meeting, 
 is rendered almost as efficient as it would be 
 were it local. It is this peculiarity that has 
 rendered our ministry so successful in our new 
 states. It has also contributed, perhaps, more 
 than any other cause, to maintain a sentiment 
 of unity among us. It gives a pilgrim character 
 to our preachers. They feel that “ here they 
 have no abiding city,” and are led more ear¬ 
 nestly to “ seek one ” out of sight. It will not 
 allow them to entangle themselves with local 
 trammels. The cross peculiarly “crucifies them 
 to the world, and the world to them.” Their 
 zeal, rising into religious chivalry; their devo¬ 
 tion to one work; their disregard for ease and 
 the conveniences of stationary life,—are owing, 
 under divine grace, chiefly to their itinerancy. 
 It has made them one of the most self-sacri¬ 
 ficing, laborious, practical, and successful bodies 
 of men at present to be found in the great field 
 of Christian labor. The time when itinerancy 
 shall cease in our ministry, and classes among 
 our laity, will be the date of our downfall. 
 
120 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS 
 
 METHODISM ADAPTED TO OUR COUNTRY 
 
 “ The wilderness and the solitary 'place shall be glad 
 for them : and the desert shall rejoice, and blossom 
 as the rose." —Isaiah. 
 
 There is another and no less interesting 
 light in which the economy of Methodism 
 strikes me as providential; I mean its adapta¬ 
 tion to our country. It is a fact worthy of re¬ 
 mark, that while the great moral revolution of 
 Methodism was going on across the Atlantic, 
 the greatest political revolution of modern times 
 was in process on our own continent; and 
 when we contemplate the new adaptations of 
 religious action which were evolved by the 
 former, we cannot resist the conviction that 
 there was a providential relation between the 
 two events—that they were not only coincident 
 in time, but also in purpose. While Wesley 
 and his co-laborers were reviving Christianity 
 there, Washington and his compatriots were 
 reviving liberty here. It was the American 
 Revolution that led to the development of the 
 resources of this vast country, and rendered it 
 the assembling place of all nations, kindreds, 
 tongues, and people; and Methodism com¬ 
 menced its operations sufficiently early to be in 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 121 
 
 good vigor by the time that the great movement 
 of the civilized world toward the West began. 
 It seems to have been divinely adapted to this 
 emergency of our country. If we may judge 
 from the result, it was raised up by Providence 
 more in reference to the new than to the old 
 world. Its peculiar measures were strikingly 
 suited to the circumstances of the country, 
 while those of every other contemporary sect 
 were as strikingly unadapted to them. Its 
 zealous spirit readily blended with the buoyant 
 sympathies of a youthful nation flushed with 
 the sense of liberty. The usual process of a 
 long preparatory training for the ministry could 
 not consist with the rapidly-increasing wants 
 of the country. Methodism called into exist¬ 
 ence a ministry less trained, but not less effi¬ 
 cient ; possessing in a surprising degree that 
 sterling good sense and manly energy, exam¬ 
 ples of which great exigences always produce 
 among the people. These it imbued with its 
 own quenchless spirit, and formed them to a 
 standard of character altogether unique in the 
 annals of mankind; they composed a class 
 which, perhaps, will never be seen again 
 They were distinguished for native mental 
 vigor, shrewdness, extraordinary knowledge 
 of human nature, many of them for overwhelm- 
 
122 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 ing natural eloquence, the effects of which on 
 popular assemblies are scarcely paralleled in 
 the history of ancient or modern oratory; and 
 not a few for powers of satire and wit, which 
 made the gainsayer cower before them. To 
 these intellectual attributes they added extraor¬ 
 dinary excellences of the heart, a zeal which 
 only burned more fervently where that cf most 
 men would have grown faint, a courage that 
 exulted in perils, a deep tenderness for the 
 poor and suffering, a generosity which knew 
 no bounds, and which left most of them in want 
 in their latter days, a forbearance and co-opera¬ 
 tion with each other which are seldom found in 
 large bodies, an utter devotion to one work, 
 and, withal, a simplicity of character which 
 extended to their manners and their apparel. 
 They were likewise characterized by wonderful 
 physical abilities. They were mostly robust. 
 The feats of labor and endurance which they 
 performed in incessantly preaching in the village 
 and in the “ city full,” in the slave hut and the 
 Indian wigwam ; in journeyings, interrupted by 
 no stress of weather; in fording creeks, swim¬ 
 ming rivers, sleeping in forests;—these, with 
 the novel circumstances with which such a 
 career must frequently bring them into collision 
 would afford examples of life and character 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 123 
 
 which, in the hands of genius, might be the 
 materials for a new department of romantic 
 literature. They were men who labored as 
 if the judgment fires had already broken out on 
 the world, and time was to end with their day. 
 These were precisely the men which the moral 
 wants of the new world, at the time we are 
 contemplating, demanded. 
 
 The usual plan of local labor, limited to a 
 single congregation or to a parish, was inade¬ 
 quate to the wants of Great Britain at this time; 
 but much more so to those of the new continent. 
 That extraordinary conception of Wesley, an 
 itinerant ministry, met in the only manner pos¬ 
 sible the circumstances of the latter; and the 
 men whom we have described were the only 
 characters who could have carried out this 
 gigantic conception. No one can estimate 
 what would have been the probable result of 
 that rapid advance which the population of the 
 United States was making beyond the customary 
 provisions for religious instruction, had not this 
 novel plan met the emergency. Much of what 
 was then our frontier, but since has become the 
 most important states of the Union, would have 
 passed through the forming period of its charac¬ 
 ter without the influence of Christian institu¬ 
 tions. But the Methodist itinerancy has borne 
 
124 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 the cross, not only in the midst, but in the van, 
 of the hosts of emigration. That beau ideal of 
 hardship, disinterestedness, and romantic ad¬ 
 venture, the Methodist itinerant, is found with 
 his horse and saddle-bags threading the trail of 
 the savage, and cheering and blessing with his 
 visits the loneliest cottage on the furthest fron¬ 
 tier. They have gone as pioneers to the abo¬ 
 riginal tribes, and have gathered into the pale 
 of the church more of the children of the forest 
 than any other sect; they have scaled the Rocky 
 Mountains, and are building up Christianity and 
 civilization on the shores of the Columbia; 
 they are hastening down toward the capital of 
 Montezuma, while, throughout the length and 
 breadth of our older states, they have been 
 spreading a healthful influence which has af¬ 
 fected all classes, so that their cause includes 
 not only a larger aggregate population than any 
 other sect, but especially a larger proportion of 
 those classes whose moral elevation is the most 
 difficult and the most important,—the Savage, 
 the slave, the free negro, and the lower classes 
 generally. 
 
 The complex and yet harmonious constitu¬ 
 tion of the Methodist Church in the United 
 States would be an interesting subject of dis¬ 
 cussion. It is a vast system of wheels within 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 125 
 
 wheels, but all revolving with the ease of a 
 well-made machine. Our general conferences 
 occurring once in four years, the annual con¬ 
 ferences once a year, the quarterly conferences 
 once in three months, the leaders’ meetings 
 once a month, the classes once a week, form 
 an admirable series of gradations extending 
 from a week to four years, and covering all the 
 successive intervals. To these correspond also 
 «Dur gradations of labor,—bishops traversing the 
 •continent., presiding elders traveling over ex¬ 
 tended districts, circuit preachers occupying 
 less extensive fields, assisted by local preachers 
 and exhorters ; and finally, leaders inspecting, 
 weekly, divisions of the local societies. This 
 exact machinery is the secret of the energy 
 and permanence of so diffuse and varied a 
 system. And was it not providential that such 
 a system was raised up at such a time ? 
 
126 
 
 SKETCHES AS D INCIDENTS. 
 
 THE HOSPITABLE WIDOW AND THE TRACT. 
 
 “ Cast thy bread upon the waters, for thou shalt find 
 it after many days." —Solomon. 
 
 The day of judgment alone can reveal the 
 amount of good accomplished by the humble 
 instrumentality of tracts. God’s word is the 
 “ tree of life,” but tracts are its leaves—the 
 leaves which are for the “ healing of the na¬ 
 tions.” Cheap, brief, and pithy statements of 
 religious truth—cheap, that they may be multi¬ 
 plied and scattered broadcast; brief, that they 
 may be read in the moments of leisure which 
 the laboring man can snatch from his toil; 
 and pithy, that they may be read with interest 
 and profit—such publications ought to fall, like 
 pure snow flakes, on all lands. Like the fall 
 of the blossom leaves, they would be followed 
 by fruit in due season. If we cannot give 
 whole loaves, let us multiply by breaking them, 
 and scatter the fragments, at least. 
 
 I could fill this volume with illustrations of 
 their utility. I will give, however, but one fact, 
 another example of the usefulness of Dr. Coke.* 
 
 * This anecdote is authenticated in one of the Reports 
 of the English Religious Tract Society. 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 127 
 
 This indefatigable servant of Christ- was tra¬ 
 veling once in what was then a wilderness part 
 of our country. At that time there were few 
 bridges, but to swim streams was a small feat 
 with the hardy pioneers of Methodism and their 
 well-trained steeds. It was an exploit, how¬ 
 ever, to which the good doctor and his horse 
 wei e not accustomed. A river lay in his course, 
 and he endeavored, by an indirect route, to 
 cross it at the ford, but missed the place. Im¬ 
 patient to proceed, and ambitious to equal the 
 achievements of his American brethren, he patted 
 the neck of his horse, and plunged into the flood. 
 The water was deep, and the horse becoming 
 alarmed, began to struggle and sink, to the immi¬ 
 nent peril of his rider. The doctor, extricating 
 his feet from the stirrups, seized on an over¬ 
 hanging bough, and, after being thoroughly 
 drenched, reached the shore, to which the 
 affrighted animal had also returned. 
 
 He remained in the forest till he had dried 
 his clothes in the sun, and then mounted to 
 leturn. On the road he met a man who direct¬ 
 ed him to the nearest village, and gave him 
 the address of a kind family, where he might 
 expect to be hospitably entertained as an am¬ 
 bassador of God. The doctor, as usual, gave 
 him a hearty word of exhortation and rode on, 
 
128 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS- 
 
 wearied with the fatigues of the day, but happy 
 in the expectation of a cordial reception and 
 comfortable rest in the neighboring hamlet. 
 
 Early in the evening he arrived at the village, 
 and was received with all kindness by the good 
 lady of the house to which he had been directed. 
 The table was spread with a bountiful meal, 
 and after his usual domestic service, which 
 consisted in an appropriate exhortation, besides 
 the Scripture lesson and prayer, he retired to 
 rest, thankful to God for so comfortable a con¬ 
 clusion to the trials of the day. The next 
 morning he took an early leave of the family, 
 addressing to each some spiritual counsel, and 
 leaving behind him a single tract, for at that 
 day these convenient little vehicles of truth 
 were rare and precious, and the few who dis¬ 
 tributed them were obliged to make the most 
 of them. 
 
 The doctor returned to England, visited Ire¬ 
 land and the West Indies, traversing, as usual, 
 land and sea in the cause of his Master. After 
 five years had passed away, he was again on 
 the American continent. On his way to one 
 of the conferences, he overtook a number of the 
 preachers who were journeying thither. They 
 all hailed their old friend and bishop with 
 hearty congratulations; but one young man 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 129 
 
 who accompanied them was deeply affected at 
 the unexpected meeting, and was observed to 
 wipe the tears from his eyes. When they had 
 rode several miles, the young man contrived to 
 get by the side of the doctor, and on inquiring 
 if he recollected being in a certain part of 
 America about five years ago, he answered in 
 the affirmative. 
 
 “ And do you recollect, sir, being nearly 
 drowned in trying to cross a river 1” 
 
 “ I remember it quite well.” 
 
 “ And do you remember spending the night 
 at the cottage of a widow lady in such a village ?” 
 
 “ Indeed I do,” said the doctor, “ and I shall 
 not soon forget the kindness shown me by that 
 excellent family.” 
 
 “ And do you remember that you presented 
 a tract to the lady when you departed the next 
 morning ?” 
 
 “ I do not recall that,” replied the doctor, “ but 
 as I do so often, it is quite possible I did so 
 then.” 
 
 “ Well, sir, you did leave there a tract, which 
 that lady still keeps, and if you ever pass 
 through the village again you can see it; but 
 no money can purchase it from her. She read 
 it, and the Lord made it the instrument of her 
 
 conversion ; a number of her children anr> her 
 
 9 
 
130 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 neighbors have also been converted through 
 its instrumentality, and there is now in the vil¬ 
 lage a prosperous society.” 
 
 “ God be praised,” exclaimed the doctor, and 
 the tears gushed in a flood from his eyes. 
 
 The young man weeping, also, proceeded,—- 
 “ I have not quite reported all yet. I am one 
 of the sons of that widow, and I shall ever bless 
 God for that tract, for by reading it, my feet 
 were directed in the way to heaven, and I am 
 now going to conference to be proposed as a 
 traveling preacher. My saddle-bags are half 
 full of tracts, and I shall ever carry them with 
 me, and scatter them in my course.” 
 
 Reader, though you may consider yourself 
 the feeblest child of God, here is a potent means 
 of good which you can use daily. Have you 
 small talents ? Can you not speak with readi¬ 
 ness for your Lord ? Then carry with you 
 these little messages of truth. Let them speak 
 in your stead. You may thus scatter seed that 
 may bring forth fruit, “ some a hundred-fold 
 some sixty, some thirty.” 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 131 
 
 MY LIBRARY. 
 
 On booke for to rede I me delite, 
 
 And to them give I faith and full credence, 
 
 And in my heart have them in reverence." —Chaucer. 
 
 In all my changes I have kept sacredly my 
 books. They are not two hundred in number, 
 great and small, but include good specimens of 
 the most valuable classes. How many happ)' 
 hours do I owe them! In many a long 
 journey, on horseback, in the wilderness, have 
 I beguiled the weary day by converse with a 
 favorite author ; and now that infirmities have 
 compelled me to retire from my Master’s work, 
 these fast friends still cleave to me in my soli¬ 
 tude, comforting and enlivening it by their in¬ 
 structive companionship. In sickness they 
 have relieved me more than medicine, in sorrow 
 they have been my solace, and in poverty my 
 riches; and now, as I sit penning these lines, 
 they are round about me, looking like the 
 familiar faces of old friends, full of love, tried 
 and true. “ Blessed be God,” said one, “ for 
 books and “ they are not wise,” said another, 
 “ who object to much reading.” Like the men 
 who write them, they are of all characters, but 
 we may select them as we choose our friends ; 
 
132 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 and when once we select good ones, unlike 
 men, they vary not, but are steadfast in theii 
 integrity. 
 
 I can never be solitary with good books about 
 me ; a blessed society are they, ready at any 
 moment to listen to our inquiries, and entertain 
 us with their tranquil converse. By biographies, 
 I can assemble round my winter hearth the 
 men whose thoughts have stirred nations and 
 impelled ages. While living, their company 
 and conversations were enjoyed only by those 
 who moved in the same sphere of life ; but in 
 books they obey my bidding, and divested of 
 those forms of life which would only have em¬ 
 barrassed me, they become familiar friends, and 
 teach me the lessons of their wisdom. 
 
 I have a few volumes of history. They 
 crowd ages of existence into my evening hours ; 
 fields, cities, realms, with their armies, arts, 
 and revolutions, pass before me, within my hum¬ 
 ble walls, like a magnificent drama. 
 
 I have books of travel. Though their authors 
 are in their graves, I have only to open their 
 pages, when, as by magic, they appear before 
 me ; and I attend with breathless interest to 
 the recital of their voyages, their adventures, 
 the countries they visited, and all the scenes of 
 novelty and marvel they witnessed. Thus in 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 133 
 
 few hours I sail over seas, and travel over con¬ 
 tinents, enjoying all the pleasures and suffering 
 none of the perils of the journey. 
 
 I have a few good volumes of poetry. The 
 language of harmony and the bright ideals of 
 genius are addressed by them to the deepest 
 susceptibilities of my heart. 
 
 I have books of religion. In them, men who 
 have gone up to heaven still instruct me in 
 the way thither, and console me in the trials of 
 my pilgrimage. And, above all, in my Bible I 
 have an exhaustless treasure—the most simple 
 and beautiful construction of the English lan¬ 
 guage, the richest poetry, the most graphic 
 portraits, the most interesting history, and the 
 purest truth. Kings, prophets, and apostles 
 move before me, and the visions and voices of 
 the invisible world come down upon my soul. 
 
 If there were but one copy of any of the great 
 iterary works extant, one Paradise Lost, one 
 Pilgrim’s Progress, or, above all, one Bible, how 
 would it be prized ! What treasure would not 
 be given for it! How happy would be esteem¬ 
 ed the possessor! But are they less a bless¬ 
 ing, because they may be obtained by the hum¬ 
 blest man ? 
 
 With such solace from books, it is not sur¬ 
 prising that the love of reading, like the physical 
 
134 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 appetites, grows by indulgence, and frequently 
 assumes the intensity of a passion. “ A taste 
 for books,” says Gibbon, “ is the pleasure and 
 glory of my life. I would not exchange it for 
 the wealth of the Indies.” Cicero says that he 
 occupied himself with books at “ home and 
 abroad, in the city and the country, walking and 
 riding.” Pliny says that even in hunting, he 
 employed his intervals in reading. And our 
 earliest poet, Chaucer, has expressed a still 
 stronger passion : 
 
 “ But as for me, although I can but lite,* 
 
 On booke for to rede I me delite, 
 
 And to them give I faithe and full credence, 
 
 And in my heart have them in reverence ; 
 
 So heartily that there is game none 
 That from my bookes meketh me to gone.” 
 
 Thus books are sources of genuine pleasure. 
 The mind, like the body, is formed for activity. 
 In higher studies, its activity, though profitable, 
 is laborious and painful, like the physical toil 
 which excavates the golden mine; but in mis¬ 
 cellaneous reading, while it is not without profit, 
 it is also easy and delightful, like the plea¬ 
 surable exercise of a walk amid the fresh 
 breezes, the bright light, the varied charms of 
 the landscape. As a relaxation from manual toil, 
 
 * Know but little. 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 135 
 
 what can be more delicious than good books ? 
 In them the manifest scenes of life are painted, 
 the affections of the heart are embalmed, the 
 creations of the imagination are pictured, the 
 gorgeous pageants of history revolve, the beau¬ 
 ties of nature and the wonders of art are exhi¬ 
 bited, the noblest thoughts of the noblest minds, 
 the best sentiments of the best hearts, are trea¬ 
 sured. 
 
 Books are our best companions. They change 
 not, they forsake us not. They furnish us always 
 the same faithful and sincere instructions. 
 They are friends with whom we can converse 
 in the loneliest solitude ; and often have they 
 gladdened the spirit of genius amid the damps 
 of the prison cell, and the wretchedness of the 
 garret. Well could the immortal author of the 
 “ Faerie Queene,” in the neglect and want of 
 his latter years, sing,— 
 
 “ However men may me despise and spite, 
 
 I feed on such contentment of good thought, 
 
 And please myself with mine own self-delight, 
 
 In contemplating things heavenly wrought; 
 
 And loathing earth, I look to yonder sky, 
 
 And being driven hence, I thither fly.” 
 
 Books are the prime means of intellectual im¬ 
 provement, and no insignificant instruments of 
 moral influence. Various reading has been 
 
136 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 condemned as unfavorable to mental vigor and 
 originality. It has been said that perhaps 
 N the ancients owed much of their excellence to 
 the fact, that they had fewer books than we, 
 and, therefore, read less and thought more ; and 
 even in their scarcity of literary works, one 
 of them advised the studious youth of Rome to 
 read much, but read few books. The advice is 
 certainly pertinent, but may be much qualified. 
 It is unquestionable that the most powerful 
 minds have been distinguished for extensive 
 research. Fisher Ames said that the largest 
 library in the United States, in his day, did 
 not equal the number of works referred to as 
 authorities in Gibbon’s “ Decline and Fall.” 
 Some of the most distinguished English writers 
 have been various and voracious readers. Ba¬ 
 con was a great reader as well as a great ob¬ 
 server and thinker, and his own quaint remark 
 suggests the manner in which he avoided any 
 evil from the indulgence; “ Some books,” -aid 
 he, “ are to be tasted, some swallowed, and 
 some few chewed and digested.” Not only do 
 individual instances confirm the position, but 
 the most intellectual nation of the age presents 
 an example of the most various and minute 
 research, combined with the most profound 
 originality. Bibliomania is the very genius of 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 137 
 
 a German student. Nature has provided an 
 endless variety for the nourishment of man, and 
 it is not the meagre and unvarying use of her 
 blessings which invigorates; the healthy may 
 enjoy them abundantly, provided they be sea¬ 
 sonable and temperate. 
 
 But however strong may be the objections to 
 the miscellaneous use of books by professed 
 students, they do not apply to the popular mind. 
 The mass of the people have neither the dispo¬ 
 sition nor the convenience for mental discipline. 
 With them there is but one alternative,—either 
 to reap the slight improvements, but genuine 
 pleasures, of occasional and desultory reading, 
 or suffer the inanition or worse accompaniments 
 of an habitual neglect of books. But though 
 their improvement by such a course be but 
 slight, compared with the effects of systematic 
 study, yet, in itself considered, it is vast. The 
 inert faculties are awakened; the tendency of 
 the uniform and minutely-divided mechanic arts 
 to stint the mind is relieved; the delightful in¬ 
 stinct of taste is called into play ; the languid 
 imagination is vivified, and the judgment exer¬ 
 cised. A mechanic, who is accustomed to 
 spend an hour or two daily in judicious reading, 
 will show its effects in his whole bearing. It 
 may awaken within him no peculiar energy, it 
 
138 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 may impart no new talent, but it will give a better 
 tone to his ordinary powers, and greater purity 
 to his common sentiments ; and it will, almost 
 invariably, so far modify his whole character, 
 as to distinguish him from the mass of his class. 
 If the vast thousands of the Russian empire were 
 not only taught to read, but inspired with a love 
 of reading, and supplied with domestic libraries, 
 who doubts that, in a few years, a miracle of 
 national improvement would follow ? Who 
 doubts that every national aspect would be 
 transformed, and the whole realm lifted up as by 
 its four corners ? The efficacy of such an ex¬ 
 periment would be second only to that of a pure 
 religious faith. 
 
 The moral influence of popular reading is in¬ 
 valuable. The maxim, that 
 
 “A little learning is a dangerous thing,” 
 may be true (though not without much qualifica¬ 
 tion) when applied to the scientific and the 
 would-be learned, but it is altogether fallacious 
 in respect to popular intelligence. The people 
 are not speculative ; they are not generally vain ; 
 they are frank, confiding, implicit. Though 
 the chief sufferers by religious or political 
 errors, yet are they seldom their originators. 
 They have too little presumption to disbelieve 
 received truths, and too much common sense to 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 139 
 
 propound theoretical absurdities ; if they cannot 
 be learned, still they may be intelligent without 
 danger. Their intelligence is the conservative 
 virtue of society. It is not the influence of the 
 highly learned which preserves a community 
 from the corruptions of error, but the aggregate 
 intelligence of the middling classes. If religion 
 is the salt of the earth, this is a part of its savor 
 —it always coexists with genuine religion, and 
 cannot exist without it. 
 
 Books are good means of domestic enjoyment 
 and virtue; and if ever there comes a golden 
 age of popular intelligence, its indication will 
 be the domestic library , not scattered amid the 
 rubbish of shelves, or concealed in the privacy 
 of a closet, but placed prominently in the par¬ 
 lor as its most esteemed furniture. Next to 
 the beautiful scene of domestic worship, what 
 is more delightful than the sight of a family 
 plying at the fireside the light tasks of the eve¬ 
 ning, listening to the voice of the reader, and 
 varying the tranquil scene by conversational 
 remarks ? A love of books thus inspired in the 
 minds of the young may have the most salutary 
 influence on their coming years. It may de¬ 
 velop the latent energies of genius, or quicken 
 and attemper the aspirations of early virtue and 
 piety. The mechanic, with such an attraction 
 
140 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 at his hearth, will learn to despise the gross 
 pleasures of vice and conviviality; and the 
 affluent and the educated will find in such 
 a combination of the pleasures of the mind 
 with the affections of the heart, one of the 
 most elevated delights of life. A distinguished 
 living writer gives an example in the history of 
 the lamented Princess Charlotte :—“ She and 
 her consort, Prince Leopold, lived together in 
 the greatest harmony and affection ; and, from 
 what her biographers have stated respecting 
 her education and pursuits, it appears that the 
 mutual friendship of these illustrious individuals 
 was heightened and cemented by the rational 
 conversation in which they indulged, and the 
 elevated studies to which they were devoted. 
 Her course of education embraced the English, 
 classical, French, German, and Italian lan¬ 
 guages : arithmetic, geography, astronomy, the 
 first six books of Euclid, algebra, mechanics, 
 and the principles of optics and perspective, 
 with history, the policy of governments, and 
 particularly the principles of the Christian reli¬ 
 gion. She was also a skillful musician, had a 
 fine conception of the picturesque in nature, and 
 was fond of drawing. She took great pleasure 
 in strolling on the beach, in marine excursions, 
 in walking in the country, in rural scenery, in 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 141 
 
 conversing freely with the rustic inhabitants, 
 and in investigating every object which seemed 
 worthy of her attention. She was an enthusi¬ 
 astic admirer of the grand and beautiful in 
 nature, and the ocean was to her an object of 
 peculiar interest. After her union with the 
 prince, as their tastes were similar, they en¬ 
 gaged in the same studies. Gardening, draw¬ 
 ing, music, and rational conversation, diversified 
 their leisure hours. They took great pleasure 
 in the culture of flowers, in the classification of 
 them, and in the formation, with scientific skill, 
 of a hortus siccus. But the library , which was 
 furnished with the best books in our language, 
 was their favorite place of resort; and their 
 chief daily pleasure was mutual instruction. 
 They were seldom apart, either in their occu¬ 
 pations or in their amusements ; nor were they 
 separated in their religious duties. * They took 
 sweet counsel together, and walked to the house 
 of God in company and it is also stated, on 
 good authority, that they maintained the worship 
 of God in their family, which was regularly at¬ 
 tended by every branch of their household. No 
 wonder, then, that they exhibited an auspicious 
 and a delightful example of private and domes¬ 
 tic virtue, of conjugal attachment, and of unob¬ 
 trusive charity and benevolence.” 
 
142 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 MIGHTY MEN. 
 
 “ We shall reap if we faint not.” —St. Paul 
 
 The truly mighty men of history were made 
 such more by industry than by genius. Let the 
 lesson be well learned by the young. There 
 have been great men who were not able men— 
 fictitiously great; their greatness arising more 
 from their fortunate circumstances than from 
 themselves ; but the truly great have generally 
 been the “laboring classes” of their respective 
 departments, genuine workmen. The young 
 man who does not feel strongly within him the 
 disposition to work , may entertain no high am¬ 
 bition for usefulness or eminence. 
 
 Dr. Samuel Clarke said the old adage of 
 “too many irons in the fire conveys an abomi¬ 
 nable old lie; have all in, shovel, tongs, and 
 poker.” It is not so much the multiplicity 
 of employments, as the want of system in 
 them, that disturbs and injures both the work 
 and workman. Wesley did everything by 
 system, and how much did he achieve ? He 
 traveled about five thousand miles a year, 
 preached about three times a day, beginning at 
 five o’clock in the morning, and his published 
 works amount to about two hundred volumes. 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 143 
 
 Asbury traveled about six thousand miles a 
 year, and preached incessantly. Coke crossed 
 the Atlantic eighteen times, preached, wrote, 
 traveled, established missions, begged from 
 door to door for them, and labored in all re¬ 
 spects as if, like the apostles, he would “ turn 
 the world upside down.” At nearly seventy 
 years of age he started to Christianize India! 
 Baxter, with numerous and grievous diseases, 
 wrote a surprising number of books, practiced 
 physic, and, as he took no fees, was oppressed 
 with patients ; spent two days a week in cate¬ 
 chetical instruction, and, besides special ser¬ 
 mons and several regular evening services, 
 preached three times a week. Calvin, tortured 
 with gout, stranguary, stone, catarrh, and other 
 infirmities, acted, while in Geneva, as pastor 
 and professor, wrote nine folio volumes, with 
 profound thought, corresponded with all parts 
 of the continent, every other day lectured, and 
 every other week preached daily. He states, 
 in one of his letters, the work of one day while 
 at Strasburgh. It consists of a sermon, a lec¬ 
 ture, the correction of twenty sheets of manu¬ 
 script, four letters, besides offices of advice 
 and reconciliation in more than a dozen cases. 
 Luther was one of the most extensive writers 
 of his age. He maintained an immense cor- 
 
144 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 respondence, the published part filling numerous 
 volumes, lectured regularly before the univer¬ 
 sity, preached nearly every day, bore the chief 
 burden of the churches, fought emperor, pope, 
 and council, lived constantly in the agitation 
 of controversy, and yet found leisure for the 
 enjoyments of domestic life, and the recreations 
 of music and poety. Nearly all these wonder¬ 
 ful men were always oppressed with poverty. 
 Wesley left not more than ten pounds for his 
 funeral expenses ; Asbury received not two dol¬ 
 lars a week, besides his entertainment and tra¬ 
 veling expenses ; Baxter received sixty pounds 
 a year; Calvin sold his books to pay his rent; 
 and Luther had to beg a coat of the elector. 
 
 “ Labor conquers all things,” was a maxim 
 worthy of the nation which conquered the 
 world. It is the testimony of almost all literary 
 biography, that intellectual greatness is most 
 commonly found, at first, in obscurity and 
 poverty. In the higher walks of life, where 
 the pleasures and honors of opulence pamper 
 the sensuality and flatter the vanity of the mind, 
 it is seldom capable of those high aspirations 
 which lead to intellectual eminence—while in 
 poverty and obscurity it is dependent upon its 
 own resources. It must remain unhonored, or 
 rise by the might of its own energy. It acquires 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 145 
 
 % 
 
 in such circumstances one quality, at 'east, 
 which lies at the foundation of all true great¬ 
 ness of mind, a noble sense of self-dependence. 
 
 Nearly all the great names, conspicuous on 
 the catalogue of renown, are proofs of the suc¬ 
 cess of mind in contending with difficulties. 
 
 Metastasios, a friendless lad, singing verses 
 in the streets, became one of the greatest au¬ 
 thors in Italian literature. Gifford, the cabin 
 boy, was one of the most powerful writers of 
 his age. Epictetus, the moralist, was born a 
 slave, but became the boast of the stoical sect 
 of philosophers, and the intimate friend of the 
 best emperors of Rome. Ferguson was a 
 shepherd’s boy, but raised himself to the honor 
 of the first astronomer of his age, at whose lec¬ 
 tures royalty itself listened with delight. Mur¬ 
 ray was a shepherd’s boy, but he became one 
 of the first instructors of mankind. Brown, the 
 author of the Commentary, Concordance, and 
 Bible Dictionary, was likewise a shepherd’s 
 boy. Terence was an African slave, but raised 
 himself to such an elevation that the haughty 
 consuls of Rome courted his society. Franklin, 
 the printer, became one of the first men of his 
 age. Sir Humphrey Davy, the son of a wood- 
 carver, and the apprentice of an apothecary, 
 became the first chemist of his times. Colum- 
 
 10 
 
146 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 bus, the sailor, left a new world for his me¬ 
 morial. Roger Sherman, the statesman of the 
 American Revolution, was a shoemaker. Hers- 
 chel, the great astronomer, was a British soldier 
 in Nova Scotia; he commenced the study of 
 astronomy while watching on the sentry post 
 at night, and has fixed his name among the 
 orbs. Samuel Lee was a carpenter, but became 
 a professor of Hebrew in Cambridge University, 
 England. Adam Clarke was the son of a 
 country schoolmaster, but rose to be one of the 
 first Biblical scholars of modem times. Robert 
 Hall was the son of a poor dissenting minister ; 
 he became one of the most splendid orators of 
 the British pulpit, and one of the best writers 
 of the English language. Cuvier, the greatest 
 of modern naturalists, was the son of a pension¬ 
 ed soldier, and a charity scholar at college. 
 Prideaux, the author of the “ Connections,” and 
 bishop of Worcester, could not be kept at 
 school by his poor parents longer than to learn 
 to read and write, and he obtained the rest of his 
 education by walking to Oxford and obtaining 
 employment in the kitchen of Exeter College. 
 
 Nearly the whole list of worthies on the 
 record of literary fame were thus diamonds 
 found in the mine—pearls brought up from the 
 depths of obscurity—-men who, but. for their 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS 14 ? 
 
 own energy, would have passed away, with the 
 mass of mankind, “ little and unknown.” 
 
 The most essential requisite for the pursuit 
 of knowledge, under such circumstances, is un¬ 
 yielding determination. This is of such great 
 importance, as almost to make up for deficiency 
 ii any other respect. It is truly wonderful 
 what this noble quality has accomplished. The 
 history of literature is full of its miracles. In 
 cases where ordinary intellects would quail in 
 despair, minds nerved with this high energy of 
 purpose have seemed only to gather new 
 strength, have wrought themselves into a kind 
 of omnipotency which has swept away the 
 most appalling difficulties, and enabled them 
 to trample into the dust the most formidable 
 obstacles. It is, even in many cases, pre¬ 
 ferable to genius. Genius is morbid, erratic, 
 burning too often in fitful gleams, or with 
 too intense ardor, so as to consume itself. 
 It is brilliant like a meteor, but has no fixed 
 law’s to keep it steady. Genius frequently 
 leads to disregard of the means of improve¬ 
 ment, and thereby disappoints its own hopes. 
 But an ordinary mind, strengthened with this 
 lofty resolve, is regular in its progress; it may 
 be slow, but it is sure. It does not rush onward, 
 breathless and wild, like a frantic maniac, 
 
148 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 but moves with majestic calmness, stepping 
 always on a sure position, and surveying the 
 way as it goes. Genius is fit for extra circum¬ 
 stances only; a determined though ordinary 
 mind is common place. It is practical, and can 
 Handle common things. Genius is like the pre¬ 
 cious gold ore, which is adapted to shine, a 
 pretty thing, an ornament for the finger 
 or ear, or fit for the nice workmanship of a 
 watch ; a common mind nerved with resolution 
 is like the ruder but more useful ore of iron, fit 
 alike for a steam engine, an artillery piece to 
 hurl its blazing thunder, or a gleaming sword. 
 Genius is a fragile flower which blossoms beau¬ 
 tifully and fades easily; a practical but deter¬ 
 mined mind can grow up in the storm, like the 
 oak, spread its limbs to battle with the winds, 
 and though it may be shorn of its “ leafy ho¬ 
 nors ” by the wintry blast, yet its roots are 
 deep in the earth, its branches strong, and when 
 the summer returns it thrives as vigorously as 
 ever. 
 
 I have met somewhere with a noble passage 
 on the subject; it is evidently the opinion of a 
 master mind: “ More is to be expected from 
 laborious mediocrity than from the erratic efforts 
 of a wayward genius. Demosthenes elaborat¬ 
 ed sentence after sentence, and Newton rose to 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 149 
 
 the heavens by the steps of geometry, and said, 
 at the close of his career, that it was only in the 
 habit of patient thinking he was conscious of 
 differing from other men. It is generally 
 thought that men are signalized more by 
 talent than by industry; it is felt to be a vul¬ 
 garizing of genius to attribute it to anything 
 but direct inspiration from Heaven ; they over¬ 
 look the steady and persevering devotion of 
 mind to one subject. There are higher and 
 lower walks in scholarship, but the highest is a 
 walk of labor. We are often led into a con 
 trary opinion by looking at the magnitude of the 
 object in its finished state, such as the ‘ Prin- 
 cipia’ of Newton, and the Pyramids of Egypt, 
 without reflecting on the gradual, continuous, I 
 had almost said, creeping progress by which 
 they grew into objects of the greatest magnifi¬ 
 cence in the literary and physical world. In 
 the one case, indeed, we may fancy the chisel 
 which wrought each successive stone, but in the 
 other we cannot trace the process by which the 
 philosopher was raised from one landing-place 
 to another, till he soared to his towering eleva¬ 
 tion ; it seems as if the work was produced at 
 the bidding of a magician. But Newton has 
 left, as a legacy, the assurance, that he did 
 not attain his elevation by a heaven-born in- 
 
150 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 spiration, out of the reach of many, but by dint 
 of a homely virtue within the reach of all.” 
 
 Reader, art thou a young man struggling 
 against difficulties for improvement and useful¬ 
 ness ? Hold up then bravely thy head, when 
 the surge rolls over thee. Knowest thou not 
 that the energy which works within thee is the 
 measure of thy capability; that whatsoever 
 thou wiliest thou canst achieve, if not interdict¬ 
 ed by the laws of thy being ? Look, then, on 
 obstacles with an unblinking eye. Most of the 
 good and the great of all ages have been thy 
 fellows in suffering, and thou mayest be theirs 
 in success. Despond not; good counselors 
 will tell thee to be humble; their counsel is 
 wise ; but remember humility is not a fiction ; 
 it is the right estimate of thyself, not deprecia¬ 
 tion. Humility is strength. She is brave. She 
 has lifted many a time her meek eye serenely 
 in the flames of the stake. Be humble, then, 
 but be strong in thy heart. Thy soul is an ex¬ 
 haustless energy, the wide world is open for 
 thine action, and voices from earth and heaven 
 summon thee to dare and to do. 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 151 
 
 JACK AND HIS MASTER. 
 
 “ Bless them that curse you.” —Christ. 
 
 Two of these sketches have already related 
 to the influence of religion on the negro charac¬ 
 ter. Many more might be given. It has been 
 no small happiness of my ministerial life to 
 preach often to these lowly children of Ham. I 
 have found among them some of the best disci¬ 
 ples of my Master—“ living epistles.” What¬ 
 ever may be the defects of the African mind, it 
 is not deficient in the moral and social affections. 
 Religion takes profound hold of it, and enlivens 
 it with a spiritual vivacity which I have often 
 seen spreading the smiles of gladness over its 
 most abject depressions. 
 
 Though constitutionally timid, I have known 
 them to endure “fiery trials” for Christ with a 
 meek fortitude which has subdued the violence 
 of persecution. I have somewhere met with an 
 affecting instance, but cannot recall its source or 
 authority, and cannot, therefore, vouch for its 
 truth; but it is so characteristic and so accord¬ 
 ant with my knowledge of the negro heart when 
 influenced by the love of Christ, as to give it 
 strong probability. It is the case of a slave 
 who became a local preacher, and in one of his 
 sermons relates the story as follows :— 
 
152 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 “ When I was a lad there were no religious 
 people near where I lived. But I had a young 
 master about my age, who was going to school, 
 and he was very fond of me. At night he 
 would come into the kitchen to teach me the 
 lesson he had learned himself during the day at 
 school. In this way I learned to read. 
 
 “ When I was well nigh grown up, we took _ 
 up the New Testament, and agreed to read 
 it verse by verse. When one would make a 
 mistake the other was to correct him, so that 
 we could learn to read well. 
 
 ‘ In a short time we both felt that we were 
 sinners before God, and we both agreed to seek 
 the salvation of our souls. The Lord heard our 
 prayer, and gave us both a hope in Christ. 
 Then I began to hold meetings for prayer and 
 exhortation among the colored people. 
 
 “ My old master soon found out what was 
 going on. He was very angry, especially be¬ 
 cause his son had become pious. He forbid 
 my holding any more meetings, saying, that if 
 I did, he would whip me severely for it. 
 
 “ From that time I continued to preach or 
 exhort on sabbaths and sabbath nights ; and on 
 Monday morning my old master would tie me 
 up, and cut my back to pieces with a cowhide, 
 so that it had never time to get well. I was 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 153 
 
 obliged to do my work in a great deal of pain 
 from day to day. 
 
 “ Thus I lived near a year and a half. One 
 Monday morning my master, as usual, had 
 made my fellow-slaves tie me to a shade-tree in 
 the yard, after stripping my back naked to re¬ 
 ceive the cowhide. It was a beautiful morning 
 in the summer time, and the sun shone very 
 bright. Everything around V>oked very plea¬ 
 sant. He came up to me with cool deliberation, 
 took his stand, and looked at me closely, but 
 the cowhide hung still at his side. His con¬ 
 science was at work, and it was a great moment 
 in his life. 
 
 “ ‘ Well Jack,’ said he, ‘your back is cover¬ 
 ed all over with scars and sores, and I see no 
 place to begin to whip. You obstinate wretch, 
 how long do you intend to go on in this way V 
 
 “ ‘ Why, master, just as long as the Lord 
 will let me live,’ was my reply. 
 
 “ ‘ Well, what is your design in it?’ 
 
 “ ‘ Why, master, in the morning of the resur¬ 
 rection, when my poor body shall rise from the 
 grave, I intend to show these scars to my hea¬ 
 venly Father, as so many witnesses of my 
 faithfulness in his cause.’ 
 
 “ He ordered them to untie me, and sent me to 
 hoe corn in the field. Late in the evening he 
 
 < i 
 
154 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 came along, pulling a weed here, and a weed 
 there, till he got to me, and then told me to sit 
 down. 
 
 “ ‘ Jack,’ said he, ‘ I want you to tell me the 
 truth. You know that for a long time your 
 back has bee^n sore from the cowhide; you 
 have had to work very hard, and are a poor 
 slave. Now tell me, are you happy or not, 
 under such troubles as these V 
 
 “ ‘Yes, master, I believe I am as happy a 
 man as there is on earth.’ 
 
 “ ‘Well, Jack,’ said he, ‘I am not happy. 
 Religion, you say, teaches you to pray for 
 those that injure you. Now, will you pray for 
 your old master, Jack V 
 
 “ ‘ Yes, with all my heart,’ said I. 
 
 “We kneeled down, and I prayed for him. 
 He came again and again to me. I prayed for 
 him in the field, till he found peace in the blood 
 of the Lamb. After this we lived together like 
 brothers in the same church. On his death-bed 
 he gave me my liberty, and told me to go on 
 preaching as long as I lived, and meet him at 
 last in heaven. 
 
 “ I have seen,” said Jack, “ many Christians 
 whom I loved, but I have never seen any I loved 
 so well as my old master. I hope I shall meet 
 him in heaven.” 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 155 
 
 RELIGIOUS CHEERFULNESS. 
 
 “ Always rejoicing .”—Paul. 
 
 It is one of those commands which may be 
 considered as more recommendatory than im¬ 
 perative, when the apostle says, “ Rejoice ever¬ 
 more .” Yet no one can doubt that not only the 
 general spirit, but the express letter, of the gos¬ 
 pel favors a happy and even joyful temper. 
 No one who reads the Scriptures with a direct 
 reference to tins point can be unconscious of 
 the fact that while they may not unqualifiedly 
 condemn dejection, they nevertheless discoun¬ 
 tenance it, as not only foreign to religion, but 
 generally hostile to it. How infatuated, then, 
 the impression of many, especially among the 
 young, that spiritual-mindedness is essentially 
 sombre ! 
 
 Look for a moment at the spirit of true reli¬ 
 gion. Gloom and severity of mind usually as¬ 
 sociate with misanthropy ; but the central ele¬ 
 ment of religion is love —love intense, supreme, 
 ever-growing. Remorse is a painful source of 
 mental misery ; yet it is chiefly by the absence 
 of hope that the mind languishes. What a ter¬ 
 rible word is despair: yet its most fearful import 
 is hopelessness. But how full of fruition is the 
 
156 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 future to a Christian mind—endless, boundless 
 fruition ! Repose your thoughts a moment on the 
 strong language of the Scriptures: “ A good 
 hope,” “ a lively hope,” “ a blessed hope,” “ re¬ 
 joicing in hope,” “ abounding in hope,” “ full 
 assurance of hope.” Choose any other attribute 
 essential to the mental frame of the Christian, 
 and you will find it in contrast with gloom; as 
 much so as the star is with the darkness in 
 which it shines. 
 
 Assuredly there can be found nothing in the 
 practical system of Christianity which is repug¬ 
 nant to a happy temper. How pure are its or¬ 
 dinances ; how simple and tranquil its worship ; 
 how befitting, and coincident with our daily 
 cares, its duties! Christianity is indeed a dis¬ 
 cipline ; it imposes self-denial. It has its “ bur¬ 
 den,” but its burden is “ light;” it has its 
 “ yoke,” but its yoke is “ easy.” 
 
 What, then, are the causes of the not unfre¬ 
 quent depression met with among Christians ? 
 
 It may be remarked in reply, first, that phy¬ 
 sical causes often contribute to it. Let not this 
 be deemed an unimportant observation. We 
 are not assured that it is not the chief cause of 
 mental sufferings among those who are genuine 
 Christians. It should be borne in mind that a 
 conformity to the moral laws of our being does 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 157 
 
 not supersede obedience to the physical and 
 organic laws: and that while we reap the 
 rewards of obedience in the one case, we may 
 be suffering the penalties of transgression in the 
 other. The Christian should aim at perfection 
 in all respects. Some of our strongest tempta¬ 
 tions are connected with physical circumstances. 
 We should therefore include our bodily health 
 among our moral duties. 
 
 Again : no doubt much of the depression of 
 the Christian arises from the remains of sin. 
 Every drop of gall has its bitterness. The only 
 resource here is, to seize St. Paul’s remedy, 
 “Go on to perfection.' 1 ' Holiness is essential to 
 happiness. There never was a truer and loftier 
 maxim. Even what you may consider small 
 sins, must ever interfere, while they are in¬ 
 dulged, with your peace. Needles can pierce 
 deeper than larger instruments. A secret sin 
 is often more injurious to the soul than an overt 
 or gross crime. It has a character of conceal¬ 
 ment, of hypocrisy, that makes it more degrad¬ 
 ing. Are you habitually or occasionally un¬ 
 happy, Christian reader ? Look now delibe¬ 
 rately into your heart, and see if the cause is not 
 obvious. Perhaps the greatest curse your hea¬ 
 venly Father could inflict upon you would be 
 a happy frame of mind, while you are omitting, 
 
158 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 it may be forgetting, his command that you “ be 
 perfect, even as he is perfect.” How amazing 
 is the undoubted fact, that many Christians 
 shrink from this command, because they fear 
 that the higher responsibility and minuter fideli¬ 
 ty of a sanctified state will form a servitude in 
 which they will be unhappy ! Young Christian, 
 bethink you! Is such a fancy found on the 
 page of God’s word ? Is the shadowy twilight 
 more brilliant than the full glory of the day ? 
 How superlatively wretched heaven must be, if 
 you are correct! Christian perfection is indeed 
 a high state, and its watchfulness and fidelity 
 are correspondency great; but it is a state of 
 extraordinary grace , as well as of extraordinary 
 duty. It is perfect love that “ casts out fear'' 
 Is it not, then, on the mere score of enjoyment, 
 preferable to an inferior degree of piety ? Would 
 you be glad with joy? Would you triumph 
 over care and anxiety, and sin and death ; and, 
 above all, over yourself and the devil ? Would 
 you have the perfection of all the happiness to 
 be enjoyed in this world ? Abandon sin. Fly 
 from sin. Abhor it; shudder at it. Look upon 
 its smallest stain as upon a plague spot. 
 
 Again. Are not we Christians wondrously 
 thoughtless ? Do we not walk amidst the 
 outstanding, the blazing glories of our blessed 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS 
 
 159 
 
 region, like the blind man beneath the starry 
 grandeur of the firmament, or amid the efful¬ 
 gence of the sun ? Does not the want of a 
 meditative habit lead to that vacancy and cheer 
 lessness of mind which we often feel ? When 
 we open God’s word in an hour of gloom, it 
 ought to be to us like a sun outbursting from 
 the heaven in midnight. How full of clear 
 counsel, and happy words, and radiant doctrine, 
 and sweet assurance, and bounding hope, is it! 
 O, it is indeed the gospel —good and glad tidings. 
 How every passage dilates and palpitates with 
 unutterable mercy and love! “ Glory in the 
 
 highest,” shouted the angels when they an¬ 
 nounced it over Bethlehem ; and so should we 
 respond, whenever we look at it. 
 
 Young Christian, try to think as well as to 
 feel. What mind, not absolutely in a state 
 of fatuity, can habitually meditate upon the 
 great topics of revealed religion, and be misera¬ 
 ble and driveling ? Select any one of its es¬ 
 sential doctrines, and you have what might be 
 the text of an angel’s study, and that study pro¬ 
 tracted through eternity. What a conception 
 is the character of its God ! What a topic the 
 atonement! How full of confidence and assu¬ 
 rance the truth of a special providence ! How 
 relieving and consoling the fact of justification 
 
160 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 by faith ! How sublime the resurrection ! and 
 how all-glorious the truth of “ immortality and 
 eternal life !” Christian, if the gospel is true, 
 God, even God, loves you ! His Son died for 
 you ; angels guard you ; devils quail before you ; 
 death drops his sceptre at your approach ; the 
 grave fades away at your feet; time will grow 
 oblivious, and worlds waste into nothingness, 
 while you but pass through your intellectual 
 infancy ! Lift up your hands, then, and bless 
 he God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. 
 Disdain your trivial trials, and blush to think 
 that the possessor of all these “ riches of glory” 
 should have ever hung his head a moment in 
 despondence. 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 161 
 
 
 TOO LATE. 
 
 “ He that being often reproved, hardeneth his neck, shall 
 suddenly be destroyed, and that without remedy .” 
 
 Solomon. 
 
 One of the most remarkable outpourings of 
 the Spirit of God I ever witnessed was at a 
 
 quarterly meeting in L-. In those days, 
 
 and especially in that wilderness region, quar¬ 
 terly meetings were the high festivals of the 
 church. They continued at least two days, 
 the people assembled for many miles around, 
 and most of the neighboring farm-houses were 
 thrown open for the hospitable entertainment of 
 the throng. 
 
 The services commenced early on Saturday 
 morning, and continued without intermission, 
 except for sleep at night, till ten o’clock Sunday 
 evening. The venerable father O. preached 
 the first sermon with resistless power. The 
 windows of heaven were opened, and a blessing 
 poured out, such as we could not contain : the 
 erowded house, and the throngs outside, about 
 the doors and windows, seemed spell-bound. 
 Sinners trembled and wept, and the people of 
 God shouted for joy. During all that day and 
 the next, prayer meetings and love-feasts occu¬ 
 pied the intervals of the sermons, and while one 
 
 11 
 
162 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS.. 
 
 portion of the laboreis went to their meals or 
 reposed themselves, another supplied their 
 places. Thirty-four persons professed to have 
 passed from death unto life during the two days, 
 and many others were awakened. My heart 
 kindles afresh as I think of that blessed occasion. 
 There is but one melancholy recollection con¬ 
 nected with it, which I record for the warning 
 of others. 
 
 Mr. G., a pious and laborious local preacher, 
 came with his wife, son, and two daughters, 
 more than ten miles, to that meeting, with par¬ 
 ticular reference to the salvation of his son, 
 who had been the subject of his paternal prayers 
 for more than eighteen years, and was the only 
 one of his family that remained unsaved. Du¬ 
 ring these years he had often been deeply con¬ 
 victed of sin, but resistance had become habitual, 
 and the aged parent was fearful that the habit 
 would become confirmed and fatal. It deeply 
 affects me even now to recall the tears and 
 prayers of the good old man in behalf of his 
 son during the meeting. While others rejoiced 
 at the penitent throngs that pressed around the 
 altar for prayers, he wept for the child of his 
 love who appeared not among them. 
 
 There is sometimes danger of too much im¬ 
 portunity in personal conversations on religion 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 163 
 
 with our impenitent friends. Such is the na¬ 
 tural perversity of the human heart, that unless 
 we are cautious our appeals will only throw 
 them into an attitude of self-defense, a studied 
 resistance of religious impressions—a habit most 
 hardening to the heart. The anxious father 
 was fully aware of this danger : during the 
 meeting he was affectionately earnest, but not 
 too frequent in his conversations with the young 
 man. He prayed incessantly for him, and 
 trusted to the influence of the public means of 
 grace. One exercise after another passed, but 
 with no visible effect on his mind. The sabbath 
 afternoon had arrived, and scores were weeping 
 at the altar, when the anxious parent came to 
 request me to seek out his child and faithfully 
 converse with him. 
 
 I found him, urged him to immediate repent¬ 
 ance, and recommended him to place himself 
 among the mourning group at the altar. 
 
 “ The Scriptures do not require me to go to 
 the altar,” he answered, “ and can I not receive 
 religion elsewhere as well as there ?” 
 
 “Yes,” I replied, “the Lord can save you 
 where you now stand, or anywhere else, if 
 you earnestly seek him, but what place can 
 be more appropriate for those who earnestly 
 seek him than the altar of his sanctuary ? We 
 
164 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 baptize our children there; there we receive 
 candidates into his church, and perform the 
 solemnities of marriage, and the obsequies of 
 the dead; it is a holy place, and why is it not 
 appropriate that our first religious vows should 
 be taken there ? There is, indeed, no special 
 virtue in the altar, but by going to it you will 
 place yourself in a position to receive more di¬ 
 rectly the prayers and counsels of God’s people. 
 You will also thereby own yourself on the Lord’s 
 side, and break at once that dangerous diffidence 
 which has ruined thousands. I do not say that 
 you cannot obtain religion without going to the 
 altar, but I do say that you will never obtain it 
 until you overcome those feelings which pre¬ 
 vent your going : you can never obtain it till you 
 are sufficiently humbled to receive it anywhere, 
 or at any sacrifice.” 
 
 I spent half an hour in reasoning with him. 
 He treated me with great respect, acknowledg¬ 
 ed his necessity of religion, but suggested a 
 thousand difficulties. I left him with the pain¬ 
 ful conviction that, amidst all the wonderful in¬ 
 fluences of the occasion, he had succeeded in 
 keeping his conscience asleep. 
 
 The meeting closed on Sunday night. On 
 Monday morning, as I passed to my next ap¬ 
 pointment, I found the road enlivened with the 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 165 
 
 horses and vehicles of the returning multitude. 
 After riding four miles, I perceived a throng 
 about a farm-house before me. I rode rapidly 
 to it, and learned that a young man had been 
 thrown from his horse and dangerously injured. 
 I passed through the crowd to the chamber 
 where they had placed the sufferer, and found 
 the young man whom I had warned so emphati¬ 
 cally the day before. He was shockingly in¬ 
 jured, and as I entered the room a thrill of dismay 
 seemed to pass over him. A physician soon 
 arrived and pronounced the case hopeless, and 
 declared that he could not survive two hours. 
 Never shall I forget the agonized countenance 
 ot the wretched youth when he learned his fate. 
 
 “ Must I die V’ he exclaimed: “ Is there no 
 hope ? O I cannot die ! I cannot die !” I en¬ 
 deavored to direct him to the cross, and re¬ 
 minded him of the crucified thief. 
 
 “Alas!” he replied, “ he never sinned against 
 such light as I have abused. What shall I do ? 
 Pray for me, O pray for me!” 
 
 We knelt down about the chamber, but his 
 agonizing groans struck all with horror and con¬ 
 fusion. I rose, and endeavored again to direct 
 him to the Lamb of God who taketh away the 
 sins of the world. 
 
 “ It is too late !” he exclaimed, “ O what 
 
166 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 would I not give if I had heeded your warning 
 yesterday, but it is now too late ; I am lost! I 
 am lost!” 
 
 His parents and sisters soon arrived ; but the 
 scene which followed I will not and cannot 
 describe. The groans of the poor sufferer 
 ceased only with his life, which occurred during 
 the morning. He seemed stunned by the sudden 
 and unexpected summons, and unable to com¬ 
 mand his thoughts sufficiently to pray. Who 
 can describe the feelings of that poor dying 
 youth! Who can imagine them! His body 
 in agony, his life reduced to a few hours, and 
 no preparation for eternity! 
 
 Reader! be ye ready for in such an hour as 
 ye think not the summons may come ! 
 
 “ Reflect, thou hast a soul to save, 
 
 Thy sins, how high they mount! 
 
 What are thy hopes beyond the grave ? 
 
 How stands that dark account ? 
 
 “Death enters, and there’s no defense; 
 
 His time there’s none can tell: 
 
 He’ll in a moment call thee hence, 
 
 To heaven or down to hell!” 
 
 END OF VOL. I 
 

 *- - 
 
 
 « 
 
 
 
 
 > 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 0 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 • . 
 
 * n- 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
SKETCHES & INCIDENTS 
 
 5 
 
 OR, 
 
 4 BUDGET FROM THE SADDLE-BAGS 
 
 OF A 
 
 SUPERANNUATED ITINERANT. 
 
 VOLUME II. 
 
 GEORGE PECK, EDITOR. 
 
 Cincinnati: 
 
 PUBLISHED BY SWORMSTEDT & POE, 
 
 FOR THE METHODIST EPISCOPAL CHURCH, AT THE WESTERN BOOK 
 CONCERN, CORNER OF MAIN AND EIGHTH STREETS. 
 
 R. P. THOMPSON, PRINTER. 
 
 1855 . 
 
* 
 
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 x * ? ><i f *, - . i 
 
 - 
 
 • • # .4 . .• i "i f ( 1 ; r " / ‘ ■* . 
 
 'I ■ ‘ * -* * - 10 ‘ * 
 
 Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1845, by 
 G Lane & C. B. Tippett, in the Clerk’s Office of the District 
 Court of the Southern District of New-York. 
 
% 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 In preparing these pages the writer has 
 contemplated two designs: first, the pre¬ 
 servation of some o# the more interesting 
 of those denominational incidents which 
 are current in our church, and which 
 strikingly illustrate the providence of 
 God; and secondly, the production of a 
 work adapted to the advanced youth of 
 the church—a department of our denomi¬ 
 national literature hitherto almost entirely 
 vacant. During some years he has had 
 an eye on these objects; and, as in hours 
 of leisure or indisposition, he penned one 
 after another of these fragments, they were 
 placed in his old saddle-bags : one budget 
 has already been taken thence and given 
 to the public. Its reception has encou¬ 
 raged the appearance of another. 
 
 2 
 
4 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 Some of these articles present coinci¬ 
 dences and denouements so remarkable as 
 to probably excite suspicion of their ve¬ 
 racity. The reader will bear in mind that 
 such singular incidents do occasionally 
 occur in the current of common-place 
 events—that the present examples are not 
 given as specimens oi^average events, but 
 are professedly sought out as anomalous. 
 Though the writer has discreetly (as he 
 thinks) used his imagination, in a few in¬ 
 stances, for the illustration of important 
 subjects, yet most of the extraordinary 
 cases referred to, so far as they are related 
 on his own authority, he knows to be 
 substantial facts; and those related on the 
 authority of others are well authenticated. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 % 
 
 Page 
 
 The Love-feast._... 7 
 
 Literary and Moral Aspects of England at the Birth 
 
 of Methodism. 27 
 
 Bishop Asbury and Black Punch. 43 
 
 A Theological Sketch. 52 
 
 Mother Suma and the Wealthy Convert. 65 
 
 Doctrinal Character of Methodism. 74 
 
 The Praying Mother. 83 
 
 The Jews... 90 
 
 An Incident with a Lesson. 96 
 
 Special Character of Methodism. 101 
 
 Visit to the Tomb of Whitefield. 119 
 
 Christian Use of Money. 130 
 
 Bishop Roberts. 143 
 
 Heretical Tendencies of Methodism and Calvinism 156 
 
 Wesleyan Anecdotes. 161 
 
 A Meditative Habit.*. 171 
 
 The Mariner’s Preacher. 176 
 
 The Sabbath School.. 183 
 
 2 
 
* 
 
 
 y 
 
 *■ \ 
 
 
 
 v 
 
 4 
 
 
 ' t 
 % 
 
 
 A 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
SKETCHED AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 THE LOVE-FEAST. 
 
 11 Then they that feared the Lord spake often one to 
 another —Malachi. 
 
 The old quarterly conferences and love- 
 feasts ! what was more characteristic of prac¬ 
 tical Methodism than they ? The horses and 
 carriages, and groups of men, women, and chil¬ 
 dren plodding the highways on foot, for twenty 
 miles, or more, as on a holy pilgrimage ; the 
 assemblage of preachers, traveling and local, 
 from all the neighboring appointments ; the two 
 days of preaching and exhorting, praying and 
 praising; the powerful convictions, and more 
 powerful conversions ; and especially the Sun¬ 
 day morning love-feast, with its stirring testi¬ 
 monies and kindling songs ; its tears and shout¬ 
 ings—how precious their reminiscences ! Alas, 
 for the changes which are coming over us! 
 
 An accurate description of one of these occa¬ 
 sions would be among the best pictures of pri¬ 
 mitive Methodism. Shalt I attempt to draw, 
 
 2 
 
8 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 not to paint, one which took place, not in the 
 earliest times, yet at a period when the first 
 generation of Methodists, ripe in their Christian 
 experience, still lingered among us ? 
 
 It was held in -, a rural neighborhood. 
 
 The locality was favorable for the assemblage 
 of very various characters ; and a more diversi¬ 
 fied company I have seldom met than were 
 brought together at that quarterly love-feast. 
 
 It was a bright June morning; the adjacent 
 fields were fragrant with the fresh hay; the 
 orchards were vocal with the melody of birds ; 
 long lines of horses and Jersey wagons, inter¬ 
 spersed with an occasional chaise, or carriage, 
 of higher pretension, ranged along either side 
 of the road, while saddle horses crowded the 
 shady retreat of a neighboring forest. The 
 church was an old frame structure, unpainted 
 inside or out, but thoroughly neat and clean, 
 and looking, on that warm day, with all its 
 sashes out, most comfortably cool and airy. 
 No dull blinds darkened the windows, and 
 threw, as in city churches, a sepulchral gloom 
 over the worshipers; but long, snow-white, 
 cotton curtains flapped in the breezy air, as if 
 playfully willing to admit an occasional gleam 
 of sunlight, provided it would treat respect¬ 
 fully the eyes of the multitude. The pulpit (». 
 
 2 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 9 
 
 high, narrow box, in the old style) and the altar 
 were crowded with preachers, itinerant and 
 local. The front gallery was filled with blacks, 
 mostly slaves. 
 
 When I looked around at the large throng, 
 fanned by the soft breezes, I expected soon to 
 see many nodding, and feared a languid meet¬ 
 ing ; but, as they were singing, to the tune of 
 China, the introductory hymn, a visible emo¬ 
 tion spread through the assembly. Some tears 
 flowed during the second verse,— 
 
 “ Still let us own our common Lord, 
 
 And bear his easy yoke; 
 
 A band of love, a threefold cord, 
 
 Which never can be broke.” 
 
 The feeling deepened as the long but beau¬ 
 tiful hymn advanced; at last, as they closed 
 the eighth stanza,— 
 
 “ With ease our souls through death shall glide 
 Into their paradise; 
 
 And thence, on wings of angels, ride 
 Triumphant through the skies,”— 
 
 old brother B., who, by the way, was a famous 
 shouter, could control himself no longer, but 
 exclaimed, in a tone fraught with his whole 
 soul, “Amen! glory be to God!” It thrilled 
 
 the assembly, and sobs and ejaculations were 
 
 2 
 
10 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 heard over the whole congregation. A powerful 
 prayer, by the presiding elder, followed, min¬ 
 gled with the fervent importunities of the con¬ 
 gregation, during which my own soul was so 
 subdued that I wept like a child, and felt as if 
 [ were bowing right under a cloud of the “ ex¬ 
 cellent glory.” Ah ! fellow-Christian, have you 
 never felt thus borne, by the tide of prevailing 
 supplication, quite up to the gate of heaven? 
 Have you never felt as if you were kneeling, 
 with bowed head, on the very door-step of the 
 celestial temple, wetting it with tears, amid 
 the beatific vision, like the penitent, bowing at 
 the portal of the ancient church, but forbidden 
 to enter? 
 
 A stirring hymn followed :— 
 
 “ Salvation! O the joyful sound! 
 
 What pleasure to our ears 1 
 A sovereign balm for every wound, 
 
 A cordial for our fears 
 
 # 
 
 and then commenced the speaking. The ven¬ 
 erable presiding elder, a tall, erect figure, with 
 white hair combed behind his ears, and coun¬ 
 tenance weather-worn, but full of sensibility, 
 after a few general remarks, referred, with 
 emotions that often interrupted his utterance, 
 
 to his own long experience. “ I have been 
 2 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 11 
 
 traveling heavenward, blessed be God, nearly 
 thirty years, and the road grows brighter as I 
 approach the light of the better world. More 
 than twenty-nine years ago, brother Freeborn 
 Garrettson, who used to sound the trumpet 
 through all these regions, came into the neigh¬ 
 borhood of my father’s plantation. One of my 
 father’s black servants, old Marcus, now in hea¬ 
 ven, I have no doubt, [a loud shout from brother 
 B.,] had wandered away some miles to the 
 preaching and been soundly converted to God. 
 The change was so remarkable that my good 
 old father, who was trying to get to heaven as 
 well as he knew how, invited brother Garrettson 
 to preach in our vicinity. He arrived one day 
 at noon, and Marcus and I spent all the after¬ 
 noon in riding among the plantations, inviting 
 the neighbors to hear him. In the evening he 
 preached in our large kitchen. It was filled 
 with attentive hearers, white and black. Dur¬ 
 ing the first prayer, when the preacher prayed 
 for the family, and especially for the children, 
 I felt a strange influence come into my soul. 
 Old Marcus, who knelt near me, responded 
 fervently to the prayer. He was weeping, and 
 I heard him repeatedly breathe my name in his 
 supplications. I felt then as I never had be¬ 
 fore The preacher took his text, and preached 
 
 2 
 
12 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 with power from on high; truth after truth 
 flashed on my spirit like lightnings from hea¬ 
 ven ; the people wept all around me ; but I 
 could not; yet I trembled from head to foot. I 
 seized the back of Marcus’s seat to steady my¬ 
 self. I heard him breathe, * Lord, save young 
 massa.’ My knees began to smite the one 
 against the other. I hastened out of the door 
 into the yard, and flew to a hay-stack, where I 
 fell to the earth, crying for mercy. Soon one 
 was praying by my side. It was old Marcus. 
 He had seen my agitation, and followed me to 
 the place. The scene that ensued I cannot 
 describe. The poor negro prayed with me 
 half the night, when the light broke from hea¬ 
 ven upon my trembling soul, and then we wept 
 together for joy. My old father soon after found 
 the peace he had long been seeking, and my 
 dear old mother followed in his steps. Father, 
 mother, and black Marcus, have all gone home 
 in triumph, and I feel this morning that I am 
 not far from the ‘ heavenly Jerusalem,’ ‘ the 
 city of the living God.’ I am old and gray ; 1 
 can only totter on the way; my old fellow- 
 laborers are mostly gone. A few, as Cooper, 
 Garrettson, Ware, Dunwody, and others, linger 
 still; but a new generation has come upon the 
 
 stage ; we can but now and then find one that 
 2 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS 
 
 13 
 
 belonged to our day. We are become not only 
 as ‘pilgrims,’ but as * strangers’ among you, in 
 the flesh, though not in the spirit. But now we 
 ‘ desire a better country.’ ” The old man’s ut¬ 
 terance was choked by his emotions, and he sat 
 down as they sung, with manifest feeling, the 
 beautiful stanza,— 
 
 “ We are traveling home to God, 
 
 In the way our fathers trod; 
 
 They are happy now, and we 
 Soon their happiness shall see.” 
 
 Some eight or ten followed in rapid succes¬ 
 sion, all bearing good, though not remarkable, 
 testimonies. I noticed, from the time the pre¬ 
 siding elder had mentioned the name of Marcus, 
 a deep sensation among the blacks who crowd¬ 
 ed the gallery. At this stage of the meeting- 
 one of them, an old, bald-headed, labor-worn 
 man, unable apparently to restrain his feelings 
 longer, rose, and addressing himself to the pre¬ 
 siding elder, said, as the big tears ran freely, 
 “ Ah ! massa, me neber forget old Marcus, bless 
 de Lord! He lead me to massa Jesus. He 
 come ober one night to our quarters and preach¬ 
 ed, and de Lord send down someting dat gat 
 into me and shook me like an old torn hand¬ 
 kerchief in de gale, bless de Lord! [Loud 
 amens.] Me cried out for mercy, and Marcus 
 
 2 
 
14 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 cried wid me, and de Lord heard us, glory to 
 his name ! and when de morning come me felt, 
 bless de Lord! like flying right up into de sun. 
 De Lord has been berry good to me since den; 
 he feed me ebery day wid de manna from hea¬ 
 ven, bless his name ! My poor Nancy he save 
 too ; she suffered much tree weeks in dreadful 
 pain ; but she did’nt complain a word, but said 
 de Lord was doing all right. She went up wid 
 her hand on de head of little Neddy, blessing 
 de child. Ah! dat night my heart like to break ! 
 but de quarters seemed full of light; none of us 
 slept, but prayed all night. 
 
 “ And poor Neddy has gone up since den too, 
 praising de Lord all de way till he could’nt be 
 heard, bless de Lord ! And now me waiting, 
 brodders, to go ; me old and weary, but journey¬ 
 ing onward; O bless de Lord! me feel dis 
 morning like going right up.” 
 
 Loud exclamations and many tears followed, 
 especially among the blacks. These poor crea¬ 
 tures included many of the best Christians I 
 have ever known, though no little extravagance 
 sometimes attended their devotions ; and among 
 them also were found instances of deception 
 and hypocrisy. Imbecility, moral as well as 
 mental, is almost inseparable from their servile 
 condition, and renders their religion often very 
 2 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 15 
 
 doubtful. An example occurred at this time. 
 One of the slaves spoke most rapturously. He 
 belonged to a local preacher, who was present, 
 and who had lately missed many of his poultry. 
 His master had reason to suspect that he had 
 taken them at night and cooked them in his 
 quarters. After the love-feast I heard the mas¬ 
 ter speaking to the servant, who seemed yet 
 under the excitement of the meeting:—“ Well, 
 Sammy, what about the lost chickens, eh ? Do 
 you know anything about them, Sammy ?” 
 
 “ O no, massa, bless de Lord ! me be honest; 
 me know nothing about de chickens, massa.” 
 
 As I was passing to a neighboring house, 
 Sammy and his wife were walking before me. 
 I overheard him saying, “ But Molly, ’spose 
 massa had axed me about de ducks instead of 
 de chickens ? den me been in a bad fix, eh, 
 Molly ? Jim took de chickens, but me only de 
 ducks.” I state it as an example of ingenious 
 evasion, combined with weakness of moral per¬ 
 ception—a characteristic not uncommon among 
 slaves, and calling for careful instruction on the 
 part of those who have the Christian charge of 
 them. 
 
 But there are among them gems of Christian 
 character, though set in ebony. Such a one 
 
 arose after the last described. She was not 
 
 2 
 
16 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 old, yet broken down with sorrows, and appa¬ 
 rently so feeble with pulmonary consumption 
 as to be hardly able to speak loud enough to be 
 heard through the house. A breathless silence 
 was maintained while she spoke, as if all sym¬ 
 pathized with her feebleness and grief. Thi> 
 poor creature had formerly belonged to a hard¬ 
 hearted planter, who had sold her husband and 
 only child—the former was at this time in Lou¬ 
 isiana, the latter in Alabama. The separation 
 had broken her heart, and she was hastening to 
 the grave under the pressure of insupportable 
 wo. She had lately been converted. This 
 change, though it could not arrest her fate, 
 spread the brightness of hope over it. With a 
 manner that betokened superior intelligence for 
 her lot, and in tones of melting pathos, she said, 
 “ My heart-strings are broken, but God comforts 
 me ; all that is dearest to me on earth has been 
 torn from me, but my Saviour remains. I shall 
 be here but a short time, but it is enough, since 
 I have learned that this world is only a vale of 
 tears, and that there is another ‘ where the 
 wicked cease from troubling.’ O ! is there one 
 here whose lot is one of grief and tears ? let a 
 fellow-sufferer tell such that the Lord is a very 
 present help in trouble. Though I stand here 
 ruined in health and in my hopes of this life, 
 2 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 17 
 
 yet is my soul steadfast in the Lord, and quiet 
 in the hope of the relief which he will soon 
 send me.” 
 
 The assembly, which felt deeply for the suf¬ 
 ferer, and, in common with most Christian plant¬ 
 ers, detested the slave-trade, then sung,— 
 
 “ O what are all my sufferings here, 
 
 If, Lord, thou count me meet 
 With that enraptured host t’ appear, 
 
 And worship at thy feet! 
 
 “ Give joy or grief, give ease or pain, 
 
 Take life or friends away, 
 
 But let me find them all again 
 In that eternal day!” 
 
 The example of this devoted slave opened 
 the way for the white females. Among many 
 that spoke, one said, “ I thank God for a pray¬ 
 ing mother. I am one of four daughters who 
 from infancy had the precious blessing of a 
 mother’s daily supplications. Years passed 
 away without any visible change in any of ns ; 
 but God only knows what deep exercises of 
 mind I had during those years of apparent care¬ 
 lessness. My dear mother was once suddenly 
 and dangerously seized with illness. Near the 
 midhour of the night we were called to witness 
 her departure, and receive her last blessing. O 
 .hat dreary, vet blessed night, its remembrance 
 Vol. II.— 2 
 
18 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 can never fade! My dear parent was in ago¬ 
 nizing pain, yet she could only think and pray 
 for her children. Brother P., our beloved 
 preacher, had arrived, and sat by her bedside 
 ‘ Is the prospect of heaven bright, sister V he 
 asked. ‘ O yes,’ she responded, ‘ heaven is 
 bright, but earth is shaded in gloom to me. 
 My poor children, must I leave them without 
 God and without hope in the world ! It seems 
 impossible for me to die till I have witnessed 
 their salvation, and can carry with me to the 
 grave the hope of meeting them in heaven.’ 
 
 “ At these words, one of my sisters, who had 
 been weeping profusely, threw herself at the 
 bedside, exclaiming, ‘ Mother, if God will hear 
 prayer, you shall not die without the hope of 
 meeting me again.’ I could sustain myself no 
 longer, but fell on my knees at her side, and in 
 a moment we were all four prostrate in prayer 
 and tears. Brother P. knelt with us, and when 
 morning dawned we were all humbly hoping 
 in our Redeemer. My dear mother was so 
 relieved by the change, that she recovered, and 
 for years led us as Christiana, in Bunyan’s 
 Progress, did her children, in the pathway to 
 heaven. She has since entered into her rest, 
 and her daughters are this morning still on the 
 
 way to meet her.” 
 
 2 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 19 
 
 Brother B. here shouted aloud, accompanied 
 by many others. When the emotion had sub¬ 
 sided brother C., a traveling preacher, arose. 
 “ Brethren and sisters,” said he, “ many of you 
 speak of the prayers of parents; I had no such 
 blessing before my conversion, but I thank God 
 I hat I can trust I have a parent in heaven, in 
 answer to my own unworthy prayers. When 
 quite young, I wandered away from my home 
 in New-Jersey, to seek adventures in Ohio, then 
 a howling wilderness. There, blessed be God, 
 I found that Methodist itinerants had gone be¬ 
 fore me. They used to travel on the trail of 
 the Indians, ford the streams, sleep under the 
 trees with their saddle-bags for pillows, and 
 preach day and night. I went to hear them 
 once, and, though a desperate sinner, the word 
 reached my heart. I cried out for mercy. 
 Several weeks did I weep before the Lord, till 
 at last I passed from death unto life, old things 
 passed away, and behold all things became 
 new. 
 
 “ My thoughts turned immediately to my old 
 father in New-Jersey. I prayed for him inces¬ 
 santly ; but this could not satisfy me. I felt 
 that I must go to him, tell him what the Lord 
 had done for me, and exhort him to flee from 
 
 the wrath to come. I started for New-Jersey, 
 
 2 
 
20 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 traveling on foot, and in such baggage-wagons 
 as I found on the way. When I reached home 
 my father was glad to see me, but laughed at 
 my errand. He was skeptical, and thought me 
 crazy. 1 stayed some time with him, but thought 
 he heeded not my warnings. I perceived that 
 he even began to grow vexed with my impor¬ 
 tunity. The devil tempted me to believe that I 
 had been deluded by my feelings into fanatical 
 folly. But I continued my efforts. I had fixed 
 upon a time for my return to Ohio. The last 
 day came, and yet my aged father remained 
 unaffected. I determined to spend the last 
 night in prayer for him in the barn. I felt that 
 I would test God’s promises to answer prayer 
 that night. In an agony of spirit I went to the 
 barn, and prayed without ceasing till after mid¬ 
 night. Suddenly I heard a cry outside. I lis¬ 
 tened ; it was the voice of my sister: ‘John,’ 
 said she, ‘ for mercy’s sake, come to the house ; 
 father is crazy!’ 
 
 “ I ran to the house, flew up to my father’s 
 chamber, and found the old man on his knees, 
 praying aloud and weeping like a child. Glory 
 to God—my prayers had been heard! I de¬ 
 layed a day longer, and left my aged father on 
 the way to heaven. He has entered into it 
 since in triumph, and I expect soon to meet him 
 2 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 21 
 
 there. The Lord has been good to me and 
 mine ; blessed be his holy name. Ye parents 
 and children who are praying for each other, 
 be not discouraged, for the promises of God are, 
 in Christ Jesus, yea and amen.” 
 
 A sailor here arose. “ My friends,” said he, 
 1 1 have been tossed about the world several 
 years, but could never forget my home here. 
 When a boy, the Methodist preachers used to 
 stay at my father’s house. I remember many 
 of them now, and shall always. When they 
 rode up to the gate, I used to run out to take 
 their horses to the stable ; and then they would 
 put their hands on my head and say, ‘ God bless 
 you, Joseph ; be a good boy, and pray the Lord 
 to give you a new heart.’ And how they would 
 pray for me at family prayers ! Nobody, per¬ 
 haps, thought that these things would get much 
 hold upon me ; but, brothers, they were ringing 
 in my ears all over the world, by day and by 
 night, in calm and in storm. For years I re¬ 
 sisted them, and became so dissipated that my 
 poor mother died with no prospect of ever seeing 
 me in heaven. I ran away and went to sea; 
 and all thought there was little or no hope for 
 me. But, though a terrible sinner, God never 
 gave me up; those old Methodist, preachers* 
 
 faces and warnings followed me all over the 
 
 2 
 
22 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 Atlantic, around Cape Horn, and in the Southern 
 Ocean, giving me no rest, till one night I wan¬ 
 dered into a prayer meeting, in a southern port, 
 and began with tears and groans to call upon 
 the Lord for mercy. Glory to his name, he 
 received the prodigal, and I am come home here 
 to see some old faces, and tell you what the Lord 
 has done for me. Brethren, I am on board the 
 heaven-bound ship, and am on the look-out for 
 the harbor. I am very happy this morning, 
 bless the Lord.” 
 
 Here was sung,— 
 
 “There all the ship’s company meet, 
 
 Who sail’d with the Saviour beneath; 
 
 With shouting each other they greet, 
 
 And triumph o’er sorrow and death: 
 
 “ The voyage of life’s at an end, 
 
 The mortal affliction is past; 
 
 The age that in heaven we spend, 
 
 For ever and ever shall last.” 
 
 The singing started brother B. He rose with 
 flowing tears, and exclaiming, “ Glory be to 
 God! I feel that I do not deserve to wash your 
 feet; but I love your Redeemer, and he owns 
 me this morning for his child, glory be to his 
 name ! He blessed me this morning, before 
 
 daylight, while praying about this meeting, and 
 2 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 23 
 
 now my cup runs over. Hallelujah !” Brother 
 B. was a man of few words, and no one did he 
 use oftener than the term glory. As he said 
 little, I must speak for him. Doubtless there 
 was a trait of weakness in his nature ; but such 
 was the sincerity and purity of his character 
 that the most fastidious admired him. He was 
 privileged to shout, for it evidently came from 
 his heart. I never knew a more devoted man. 
 For twenty years I do not believe the sun found 
 him in bed once : he anticipated the day in 
 prayer and praise. At his family altar, espe¬ 
 cially in the evening, it was his custom, besides 
 reading, singing, and prayer, to stand at his 
 chair and give the family a warm exhortation; 
 and the day was ended with his usual shouts 
 of praise. Brother B., after shouting through 
 twenty years, showed the ruling passion strong 
 in death. He died shouting, enjoying what 
 the dying Fletcher prayed for,—“ a gust of 
 praise.” 
 
 I saw him three times in imminent danger, 
 but he always at such times shouted. Once, 
 when in a stage, the horses ran away on the 
 verge of a dangerous precipice, he shouted for 
 half a mile. “ Glory to God, brother,” said he, 
 “ we can go to heaven thus as well as in a 
 chariot of fire.” 
 
 2 
 
24 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 Among many other interesting cases was that 
 of a Dutchman. “ Mine brodders,” said he, 
 “ I have also mine story to tell about Gott’s 
 mercy. I was a great sinner, but I tot I was 
 good enough. I tot it was enough to mind mine 
 own business, and hear de parson once on a 
 Sunday. All de rest of de Sunday I sat on de 
 bench before mine door, drinking beer, smoak- 
 ing mine pipe, and tinking about mine crops. 
 But mine Shonny come home one day from one 
 of de Metodist meetings, with his eyes all red, 
 and said, ‘ O fader, we must come unto Christ, 
 or we be all gone to ruin.’ Shonny had been 
 strange some days, and now, tot I, he is lost his 
 senses. I called mine wife, and said, ‘ O wife, 
 Shonny is ruined.’ ‘ No, fader,’ said he, ‘ I am 
 seeking Gott’s mercy, widout which we be all 
 gone to ruin.’ And den he talked at me one 
 quarter hour wid tears, telling me about sin, 
 hell, and de Saviour, Jesus Christ. When I 
 went to mine bed dat night, mine eyes could 
 not be shut; I tot only of dese tings. I tot wat 
 goot would be all mine lands and cattles if I die 
 and go into hell ? De next morning I could not 
 eat mine breakfast. I said to mine wife, she 
 must send for de doctor. But I could not wait, 
 mine heart jumped, and I fell on mine knees 
 and cried out, * 0, mine Gott, have mercy on me, 
 2 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 25 
 
 for I am going down into hell.’ Shonny prayed 
 wid me, and we prayed so every day, and we 
 went to de Metodist meeting, and, glory be to 
 God, he had mercy upon us, through our Sa¬ 
 viour, Jesus Christ, and saved us from going 
 down into hell. And now, mine brodders, I 
 trust in mine Saviour, and try to get to hea¬ 
 ven.” 
 
 Such are specimens, interspersed among 
 some fifty or more other testimonials, most of 
 which came burning from the heart, and were 
 responded to audibly by the joyous and yet 
 weeping assembly. I have selected the most 
 remarkable, but others were worthy of record, 
 had I space for them. Some were strongly 
 characteristic, some full of the marvelous, others 
 despondingly humble. A few spoke of dark 
 and mysterious workings of the mind, baffled 
 with spiritual anxieties ; others stood on Pis- 
 gah’s top and saw 
 
 u Sweet hills array’d in living green, 
 
 And rivers of delight.” 
 
 Some were rejoicing in the enjoyment of perfect 
 love, others had just entered into spiritual life, 
 and a few, trembling with penitential anguish, 
 implored the prayers of the assembly. Rap¬ 
 turous songs varied the scene, most of them 
 
 2 
 
26 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 » • 
 
 spirit-stirring stanzas from Charles Wesley, for 
 the ditties of latter times had hardly begun to 
 appear yet. 
 
 As I studied the scene before me I could not 
 but admire the indications of character which 
 it presented—the felicitous effect of religion on 
 all varieties of temperament, and the remarkable 
 operation of the energetic system of Methodism 
 in seeking out and combining, in a common 
 brotherhood, such diversified elements. 
 
 The meeting closed by singing the beautiful 
 and appropriate hymn,— 
 
 “ Blest be the tie that binds 
 
 Our hearts in Christian love ; 
 
 The fellowship of kindred minds 
 Is like to that above.” 
 
 2 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 27 
 
 LITERARY AND MORAL ASPECTS OF ENGLAND 
 AT THE BIRTH OF METHODISM. 
 
 “ Perilous times.” —Paul. 
 
 The circumstances which mark the origin 
 of Methodism are no less interesting than those 
 which distinguish its subsequent periods—they 
 are in striking contrast with the latter, and must 
 be considered in any just estimate of the singu¬ 
 lar success which has attended the development 
 of the system. 
 
 The literature of the eighteenth century, par¬ 
 ticularly of its earlier part, is an important index 
 to the moral character of that period. It pre¬ 
 sents a brilliant catalogue of names, among 
 which are Addison, Steele, Berkeley, Swift, 
 Pope, Congreve, Gray, Parnell, Young, Thom¬ 
 son, Rowe, Goldsmith, and Johnson, besides a 
 splendid array in the more profound departments 
 of knowledge. The intelligent reader may 
 easily conjecture what must have been the 
 moral aspects of English society when the 
 loose wit of Congreve was the attraction of the 
 British theatre, and, as Dryden declared, “ the 
 only prop of the declining stage.” Never was 
 
 the drama in higher repute: the theatre might 
 
 2 
 
28 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 in fact be called the temple of England at this 
 period. The best of her public writers, like 
 Addison and Johnson, aspired to its honors. 
 What must have been the respect of the people 
 for the church when, among the clergy, could 
 be found men like Swift and Sterne to regale the 
 gross taste of the age with ribald burlesque and 
 licentious humor ? And what were the popular 
 fictions of the day ? Peregrine Pickle, Roder¬ 
 ick Random, Tom Jones, and Joseph Andrews 
 The names of Smollet and Fielding obtained a 
 renown which renders them still familiar; while 
 that of Richardson, who, as Johnson says, “ was 
 as superior to them in talents as in virtue,” is 
 barely remembered. These were the parlor- 
 table books of the age, while on the same table 
 lay also the Metamorphoses, translated by the 
 wits of the period, with Dryden at their head, 
 dedicated to the first ladies of the court, embel¬ 
 lished with illustrations which modern delicacy 
 would hardly tolerate, and teeming with the 
 sensual pruriency which pervades the polite 
 writings of that and the preceding age. Dry¬ 
 den died at the beginning of the century, and 
 his writings, as full of vice as of genius, were 
 in general vogue. The infidel works of Hobbes, 
 Tindal, Shaftsbury, and Chubb, were in full cir¬ 
 culation, and were powerfully reinforced by the 
 2 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 29 
 
 appearance of the three greatest giants in the 
 cause of speculative error which modern times 
 have produced—Bolingbroke, Hume, and Gib¬ 
 bon—the first influential by his political emi¬ 
 nence and political partisans, and by the adorn¬ 
 ments which the harmonious verse of Pope 
 gave to his sentiments ; the second by all the 
 arts of insinuation, and by a style which, says 
 Sir J. Mackintosh, “ was more lively, more 
 easy, more ingratiating, and, if the word may 
 be so applied, more amusing than that of any 
 other metaphysical writerand the last by 
 weaving his perverse opinions into one of the 
 greatest works of the human intellect, a pro¬ 
 duction as corrupt in its sentiments as it is 
 magnificent in its execution. The intelligent 
 reader need not be reminded that the same class 
 of writers had triumphed, and were at~tj|is time 
 in full prevalence, across the channel. The 
 Encyclopedists had attempted the infernal pro¬ 
 ject of eradicating from the whole circle of the 
 sciences every trace of Christian truth ; and 
 the polite writers of France, headed by Voltaire 
 and Rousseau, had decked the corrupt doctrines 
 of the day with all the attractions of eloquence 
 and poetry, humor and satire, until they swept, 
 like a sirocco in tempest, over the nation, wither¬ 
 ing, not only the sentiments of religion, but the 
 
 2 
 
30 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 instincts of humanity, and subverting, at last, in 
 common ruin, the altar, the throne, and the 
 sacred protections of domestic life. Notwith¬ 
 standing the inveterate antipathies which exist¬ 
 ed between the two nations, the contagion of 
 French opinions, both in religion and politics, 
 infected England seriously during most of the 
 eighteenth century. 
 
 It is worthy of remark that one of the most 
 interesting departments of the English literature 
 of the last century owes its birth to the alarm 
 which the better-disposed literati of the age 
 took at the general declension of manners and 
 morals, and their attempt to check it. I refer 
 to the Periodical Essay. The British Essayists 
 are technically distinguished in our literature. 
 They form a department which has become 
 classical. A foreign writer says that they have 
 been reprinted more extensively than any other 
 books in our language, except the Scriptures. 
 Some of the brightest names in the catalogue 
 of English writers owe much of their fame to 
 these works. Among them may be mentioned 
 Steele, Addison, Berkeley, and Johnson. 
 
 These publications, which afterward became 
 so distinguished, were conducted as ephemeral 
 sheets. They were issued twice or thrice a 
 
 week, and contained brief articles, which dis- 
 2 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 31 
 
 cussed the follies and vices of the times. 
 Their character was generally humorous or 
 sarcastic: occasionally they contained a sober 
 rebuke of the irreligion of the day. The first 
 in the list is the Tattler, projected by Steele, 
 but to which Addison was a frequent contributor. 
 It s almost exclusively confined to the superfi¬ 
 cial defects of society. It is the best picture 
 extant of the domestic, moral, and literary con¬ 
 dition of the early part of that century. The 
 Spectator, conducted conjointly by Addison and 
 Steele, followed the Tattler. It is still one of 
 the most popular works of our language ; and 
 presents, perhaps, one of the best standards of 
 correct English style which we possess. Next 
 appeared the Guardian, projected by Steele, 
 but aided much by Addison, Pope, and Berkeley. 
 A long list of miscellaneous writers of the same 
 class followed, who have not been placed, by 
 public opinion, in the rank of the classical 
 essayists. Dr. Johnson, in his Rambler, re¬ 
 stored the periodical essay to its first dig¬ 
 nity. 
 
 I have already mentioned that these writers 
 aimed, at first, more at the correction of the fol¬ 
 lies than the sins of the times. They grew 
 serious, however, as they grew important. It 
 
 is curious to observe their increasing severity, 
 
 2 
 
32 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 as they obtained authority by time and popu¬ 
 larity. 
 
 Steele, from a long and various study of the 
 world, painted, with minute accuracy, its absurd¬ 
 ities. Addison, with a style the most pure, and 
 a humor mild and elegant, attempted to correct 
 the literary taste of the times, and to shed the 
 radiance of genius on the despised virtues of 
 Christianity. He rescued Milton from neglect. 
 He exemplified in death the power of his prin¬ 
 ciples. Pope satirized, in some admirable cri¬ 
 tiques, the literary follies of the day. Berke¬ 
 ley attacked, with his clear logic and finished 
 style, the skeptical opinions which were then 
 prevalent. Most of his articles are on “ Free- 
 thinking and Johnson, “ the great moralist,” 
 stood up a giant to battle, with both hands, 
 against all error and irreligion, whether in high 
 places or low places. 
 
 These writings exerted an influence upon the 
 tastes and morals of the age ; but it was com¬ 
 paratively superficial. Gay, who was contem¬ 
 porary with Addison and Steele, says, “ It is 
 incredible to conceive the effect they have had 
 on the town ; how many thousand follies they 
 have either quite banished or given a very great 
 check to ; how much countenance they have 
 
 added to virtue and religion ; how many they 
 2 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 33 
 
 have rendered happy by showing that, it was 
 their own fault if they were not so.” Miss H. 
 More has devoted a chapter in her Education 
 of a Princess to this interesting portion of ou 
 literature. She speaks in the highest terms of 
 Addison’s influence, and confirms my statements 
 of the age :—“ At a period when religion was 
 held in more than usual contempt, from its hav¬ 
 ing been recently abused to the worst purposes, 
 and when the higher walks of life exhibited 
 that dissoluteness which the profligate reign of 
 the second Charles has made so deplorably 
 fashionable, Addison seems to have been raised 
 up by Providence for the double purpose of 
 improving the public taste and correcting the 
 public morals. As the powers of imagination 
 had, in the preceding age, been peculiarly abused 
 to the purposes of vice, it was Addison’s great 
 object to show that vice and impurity have no 
 necessary connection with genius. He not only 
 evinced this by his reasonings, but he so ex¬ 
 emplified it by his own compositions as to be¬ 
 come, in a short time, more generally useful, by 
 becoming more popular, than any writer who had 
 yet appeared. This well-earned celebrity he 
 endeavored to turn to the best of all purposes ; 
 and his success was such as to prove that genius 
 is never so advantageously employed as in the 
 Vol. IT,—3 
 
34 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 service of virtue—no influence so well directed 
 as in rendering piety fashionable.” 
 
 While I commend these writers for the ele¬ 
 vated purpose which they proposed, a purpose 
 noble as it was novel among what are called 
 polite writers, I repeat that their influence was 
 comparatively superficial—it was infinitely short 
 of what was necessary—it was moral, but not 
 spiritual. It was on the side of Christianity, 
 but had nothing to do with those great evan¬ 
 gelical truths which are the vital elements of 
 Christianity, in which inheres its renovating 
 energy. It is the diffusion of these truths among 
 the popular mass that alone can effect any gen¬ 
 eral and permanent elevation of man. It was 
 reserved for the agency of Methodism to revive 
 and spread them, with a transforming efficacy, 
 through the British empire and most of the 
 civilized world. I have referred to thesi 
 writers, therefore, only as evidences of the con¬ 
 viction, felt by the better-disposed literary 
 leaders of the day, that some new check was 
 necessary to stop the overwhelming progress 
 of vice. The pictures of vice which they ex¬ 
 hibit, and the manner in which they attempt 
 the necessary reform, show that society was 
 not only deplorably wicked, but that the ade¬ 
 quate means of its recovery were not under 
 2 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 35 
 
 stood by those who lamented its evils. But 
 let us turn our attention to other views of the 
 subject. 
 
 There is abundant testimony that 1 have not 
 exaggerated the degeneracy of the period refer¬ 
 red to. The writings which have been des¬ 
 cribed reflect, as in a mirror, its morals, and we 
 can scarcely detect a single evidence that spi¬ 
 ritual Christianity was at all comprehended by 
 the mass, and, perhaps, no better by the ele¬ 
 vated few. I speak of that which constitutes 
 the speciality of religion as a regenerating en¬ 
 ergy, a system of internal spiritual virtues, of 
 which forms and morals are not the substance, 
 but the spontaneous manifestation, as the light 
 of day is but the effusion of the burning centre 
 of radiation. 
 
 Natural religion was the favorite study of the 
 clergy, and included most of their theology. 
 Arianism and Socinianism, propagated by such 
 men as Dr. S. Clarke, Priestley, and Whiston, 
 were becoming fashionable among the learned, 
 and Calvinism was tending, with full speed, to 
 .Antinomianism. Some of the brightest names 
 of the times can be quoted as exceptions to 
 these remarks ; but this was the general condi¬ 
 tion of religion in England. The higher classes 
 laughed at piety, and prided themselves on being 
 
 2 
 
36 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 above what they called the infection of its 
 fanaticism ; the lower classes were grossly 
 ignorant, and abandoned to vice ; while the 
 church, enervated by a universal decline, was 
 unable any longer to give countenance to the 
 downfallen cause of truth. 
 
 This general decline had reached its ex* 
 tremity when Wesley and his coadjutors ap¬ 
 peared. “ It was,” to use his own words, “just 
 at the time when we wanted little of filling up 
 the measure of our iniquities, that two or three 
 clergymen of the Church of England began ve¬ 
 hemently to call sinners to repentance.” His 
 own testimony to the irreligion of the times is 
 truly appalling. “ What,” he asks, “ is the pre¬ 
 sent characteristic of the English nation ? It is 
 ungodliness. This is at present the characteris¬ 
 tic of the English nation. Ungodliness is our 
 universal, our constant, our peculiar character. 
 A total ignorance of God is almost universal 
 among us. The exceptions are exceedingly 
 few, both among the learned and the unlearned. 
 High and low are as ignorant of the Creator of 
 the world as Mohammedans or pagans.” Let 
 not these fearful statements be condemned as 
 ex parte. Those who are entitled to be classed 
 among the enemies of this extraordinary man 
 confirm them. Southey says, “ The clergy had 
 2 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 37 
 
 lost that authority which may always command, 
 at least, the appearance of respect; and they 
 had lost that respect also by which the place 
 of authority may sometimes so much more woi- 
 thily be supplied. For the loss of power they 
 were not censurable ; but if they possessed but 
 little of that influence which the minister who 
 diligently and conscientiously discharges his 
 duty will certainly acquire, it is manifest that as 
 a body they must have been culpably remiss. 
 In the great majority of the clergy zeal was 
 wanting. The excellent Leighton spoke of the 
 church as a fair carcass without a spirit. Bur¬ 
 net observes that, in his time, our clergy had 
 less authority, and were under more contempt, 
 than those of any other church in all Europe; 
 for they were much the most remiss in their 
 labors, and the least severe in their lives. It 
 was not that their lives were scandalous ; he 
 entirely acquitted them of any such imputation ; 
 but they were not exemplary, as it became them 
 to be; and, in the sincerity of a pious and re¬ 
 flecting mind, he pronounced that they would 
 never regain the influence they had lost till they 
 lived better and labored more.” 
 
 The best contemporary authorities confirm 
 these statements, and do so with an emphasis 
 which cannot but strike us as remarkable. Dr. 
 
 2 
 
38 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 Watts declares that there was “ a general de¬ 
 cay of vital religion in the hearts and lives of 
 men that “ this declension of piety and virtue v 
 was common among dissenters and churchmen ; 
 that it was “ a general matter of mournful ob¬ 
 servation among all who lay the cause of God 
 to heartand he calls upon “ every one” to use 
 all possible efforts for “ the recovery of dying 
 religion in the world” Another writer asserts 
 that “ the Spirit of God has so far departed 
 from the nation, that hereby almost all vital 
 religion is lost out of the world.” Another au¬ 
 thor says, “ The present modish turn of religion 
 looks as if we had no need of a Mediator, but 
 that all our concerns with God were managed 
 with him as an absolute God. The religion of 
 nature makes up the darling topics of our age; 
 and the religion of Jesus is valued only for the 
 sake of that, and only so far as it carries on the 
 light of nature, and is a bare improvement of that 
 kind of light. All that is restrictively Christian, 
 or that is peculiar to Christ—everything con¬ 
 cerning him that has not its apparent foundation 
 in natural light, or that goes beyond its princi¬ 
 ples—is waived, and banished, and despised.” 
 
 The venerable Burnet speaks on this subject 
 with a pathos truly affecting : “ I am now in 
 my seventieth year. I cannot speak long in the 
 2 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 39 
 
 vorld, therefore I lay hold on the present time 
 to give free vent to those sad thoughts that lie 
 on my mind both day and night, and are the 
 subject of many secret mournings.” He de¬ 
 clares, he “ cannot look on, without the deepest 
 concern, when he sees the imminent min which 
 hangs over the church; and this ruin'' he asserts, 
 “ threatens the whole reformation .” “ The out¬ 
 
 ward state of things is bleak enough, God 
 knows ; but that which heightens my fears rises 
 chiefly from the inward state into which we 
 are unhappily fallen!” 
 
 Archbishop Seeker says, “ In this we cannot 
 be mistaken, that an open and professed disre¬ 
 gard is become, through a variety of unhappy 
 causes, the distinguishing character of the pre¬ 
 sent age.” “ Such,” he declares, “ are the dis¬ 
 soluteness and contempt of principle in the 
 higher part of the world, and the profligacy, 
 intemperance, and fearlessness of committing 
 crimes, in the lower, as must, if this torrent of 
 impiety stop not, become absolutely fatal.” He 
 further asserts that “Christianity is ridiculed and 
 railed at with very little reserve, and the teach¬ 
 ers of it without any at all and this testimony 
 was made but one year before that which is 
 commemorated as the original year of Method¬ 
 ism. About this same time Butler published 
 
 2 
 
40 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 his unparalleled work on the Analogy between 
 Religion and the Constitution and Course of 
 Nature. In his preface he gives a deplorable 
 description of the religious world. He concurs 
 with the preceding authorities in representing 
 it in the very extreme of decline. “ It has come 
 to be taken for granted that Christianity is no 
 longer a subject of inquiry ; but that it is now 
 at length discovered to be fictitious. And ac¬ 
 cordingly it is treated as if, in the present age, 
 this were an agreed point among all persons of 
 discernment, and nothing remained but to set it 
 up a principal subject for mirth and ridicule.” 
 
 I have been the more minute on this subject 
 because, as a church, we have been accused of 
 arrogance in ascribing too much importance to 
 the influence of Methodism. When it is con¬ 
 sidered that it found the Christian world in this 
 perilous extremity, and that the contrast which 
 the present state of Protestant Christendom ex¬ 
 hibits has been subsequently effected, perhaps 
 the liability of exaggeration will not be so 
 strongly suspected. 
 
 The rise of Methodism, under these circum¬ 
 stances, presents a most sublime instance of 
 moral triumph, and of the deathless energy of 
 those great principles which Christianity has 
 set in operation for the regeneration of the 
 2 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 41 
 
 world; and which prophecy, through many 
 weary ages, and in many dark intervals, when 
 their radiance has seemed almost extinguished, 
 and their efficacy exhausted, has still, with un¬ 
 faltering emphasis, pronounced to be invincible. 
 Let good men learn not to despair, and the foes 
 of Christianity not to hope, in the hour of her 
 trial. The sun, when his rays are intercepted 
 by clouds, is not annihilated, but still wheels on 
 in his chariot of fire above the darkness and the 
 storm, and, when they have subsided, bursts 
 with but greater splendor on the world. The 
 whole history of religion teaches the lesson of 
 confidence to its friends, and of failure to its 
 enemies. Its triumphant delivery in its patri¬ 
 archal form, in Egypt; its extraordinary and 
 victorious struggle with classic Polytheism, 
 throughout the Roman empire ; its successful 
 conflict with the stupendous superstitions of 
 Popery, when it dissipated the darkness of ten 
 centuries; and its renovation under Wesley, 
 when it combated and overcame polished skepti¬ 
 cism, learned heterodoxy, and general irreligion, 
 —all show that, however dark its occasional ob¬ 
 scuration may be, it possesses an inherent power 
 of self-renovation which allows no final hope to 
 its opposers. At the very moment when Bishop 
 Butler penned the above fearful description of 
 
 2 
 
42 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 the English Church, and skeptics were con¬ 
 gratulating themselves with the thought that 
 Christianity was expiring in its dotage, the “holy 
 club,” at Oxford, were kindling a fire which, in 
 the words of an English reformer to his fellow- 
 martyr, at the stake, was to “ put all England 
 in a blaze and which is still extending, like 
 flame in stubble, through the length and breadth 
 of the world. God was preparing, at this time, 
 Wesley, Whitefield, and their coadjutors, to 
 meet the crisis ; and, on the clouds of that dark 
 period he wrote, as with their own lightning, 
 the date of a new epoch in the history of the 
 church. Protestant Christendom has been par¬ 
 tially regenerated since that period ; and nearly 
 the whole series of benevolent institutions which 
 are now redeeming the world sprang up from 
 its darkness. 
 
 2 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 43 
 
 BISHOP ASBURY AND BLACK PUNCH. 
 
 “A word in season —Isaiah. 
 
 One of the greatest misfortunes of our deno¬ 
 minational literature is that we have no biogra¬ 
 phy of Bishop Asbury. What a life was his! 
 What a diversified delineation would his history 
 be! And yet it is not the great deeds of that 
 great man—his vast journeyings, incessant 
 preaching, and executive plans—that illustrate 
 fully his character ; he that would write a genu¬ 
 ine biography of Asbury must gather from all 
 the wide-spread country the numerous inci¬ 
 dents, of his more personal life, the anecdotes 
 and sayings that exhibit characteristically the 
 man. 
 
 One of these, an affecting fact in itself, as 
 well as an illustration of the bishop’s character, 
 occurred, in 1798, on his journey to Charles¬ 
 ton, S. C. He passed a creek, in the parish of 
 St-, on the bank of which sat a slave fish¬ 
 
 ing and humming a ditty ; his name was Punch. 
 He was notorious for his vicious character. 
 The good bishop on riding toward him, be¬ 
 thought himself that under that squalid exterior 
 lived an immortal spirit for whom Christ had 
 died, and the salvation of which would be a 
 
 2 
 
44 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 higher achievement than the conquest of a 
 world. Such were familiar thoughts to that 
 great mind. He stopped his horse, and entered 
 into conversation with the negro. 
 
 “ Do you ever pray, my friend ?” inquired 
 the bishop. 
 
 “ No sir,” replied Punch. 
 
 The bishop deliberately proceeded to alight, 
 fasten his horse to a tree, and seat himself by 
 the side of the slave. 
 
 Punch was evidently astonished at the good 
 man’s conduct, but was relieved immediately 
 by the kindness of his tones. He commenced 
 a minute conversation with him on religion, 
 explaining the nature and consequences of sin, 
 the atonement, repentance, justification by faith, 
 the certainty of death, the terrors of the judg¬ 
 ment and hell. The bishop, earnest for the 
 rescue of this benighted, but immortal spirit, 
 warmed into exhortation and entreaty. Punch 
 soon began to feel, tears ran down his sable 
 cheeks, he seemed deeply alarmed at his dan¬ 
 ger, and listened with intenseness to the coun¬ 
 sels of the singular stranger. 
 
 After a long conversation the bishop sung the 
 hymn,— 
 
 “ Plunged in a gulf of dark despair,”— 
 
 prayed with him, and pursued his journey, doubt- 
 2 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 45 
 
 less thinking of and praying for the poor slave 
 as he measured the miles of his tedious route. 
 
 More than twenty years elapsed before he 
 saw again or heard anything of Punch. While 
 on another visit to Charleston he was called 
 upon by an aged and Christian negro, who had 
 obtained permission from his master to visit 
 him, and had traveled seventy miles on foot for 
 the purpose. It was the slave he had warned 
 and prayed over on the bank of the creek, and 
 who had ever since been journeying on the way 
 to heaven. What a lesson must this interview 
 have taught the apostolic bishop! What an 
 encouragement to labor and pray for the salva¬ 
 tion of souls under the most forbidding circum¬ 
 stances ! 
 
 The bishop had no sooner left Punch on the 
 bank of the stream than he took up his fishing 
 tackle and hastened home in the deepest agita¬ 
 tion of mind, pondering over the words of the 
 venerable man. 
 
 The divine Spirit was operating upon his 
 dark mind, new light, new thoughts, stirring 
 the depths of the soul, had dawned upon him. 
 He endeavored to conform to the instructions 
 he had received, and when some days of an¬ 
 guish and prayer had elapsed, he found peace 
 
 in believing, and became a new man. The 
 
 2 
 
46 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 change was too manifest not to be discovered 
 by his fellow-servants—it was the topic of his 
 conversation with them incessantly. In his 
 simple way he pointed them to the Lamb of 
 God which taketh away the sins of the world, 
 and though they lived at a time when religious 
 instruction was rare among slaves, yet they 
 comprehended the novel tale, and many of them 
 became thoroughly penitent for theii sins, and, 
 guided by the Spirit of grace, found “ the know¬ 
 ledge of salvation by the remission of sins 
 through faith in Christ Jesus.” The interest ex¬ 
 tended from one to another, and throngs of the 
 neglected Africans resorted to his humble cabin 
 to receive his exhortations and prayers. 
 
 Several remarkable results followed, one of 
 which was the conversion of a perverse over¬ 
 seer who had charge of the plantation. This 
 man, perceiving the increasing interest of the 
 slaves for their souls, and their constant attend¬ 
 ance in the evenings at Punch’s cabin, deter¬ 
 mined to put a stop to the spreading leaven. 
 He forbade Punch to hold religious meetings 
 among them ; he was, therefore, confined in his 
 Christian labors to those who belonged to his 
 own cabin, and a few immediately adjacent, 
 who clandestinely met with him when they 
 could with safety. One evening, when the 
 2 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 47 
 
 little band were praying together, the over¬ 
 seer’s voice was heard without, loudly calling 
 for Punch. They were all terrified, suspecting 
 that he had discovered them, and was summon¬ 
 ing their devoted guide to a severe chastise¬ 
 ment. Punch went out; but he found the over¬ 
 seer on his knees under a tree, alternately 
 supplicating the mercy of God, and calling on 
 the poor slave to pray for him. God’s Spirit, 
 probably by the example of these converted 
 negroes, had got hold upon his conscience. His 
 attempt to suppress their meetings could not 
 suppress his convictions ; they deepened, and 
 at last, overpowering him, led him to seek relief 
 in prayer under the tree, and there they con¬ 
 strained him to implore the sympathies and 
 prayers of poor Punch. The negroes gathered 
 around him and prayed with him till God, in his 
 mercy, pardoned and comforted him. The over¬ 
 seer now became a coworker with Punch amoncr 
 
 O 
 
 them ; he joined the nearest Methodist Church, 
 and, in time, became an exhorter, and finally a 
 preacher! 
 
 Punch had now full liberty to do good among 
 his associates. He exhorted, prayed, and led 
 them on, as a shepherd his flock, and extended 
 his usefulness around the whole neighborhood. 
 After many years he was removed, by the de- 
 
 2 
 
48 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 cease of his master and the distribution of the 
 estate, to the parish of A., where he continued 
 to labor for the souls of his fellow-bondsmen 
 with still greater success. Scores, and even 
 hundreds, were converted through his instru¬ 
 mentality. He sustained a kind of pastoral 
 charge over them for several years. The 
 preacher from whom we have these particu¬ 
 lars was the first missionary who found them 
 out. He writes : “ In 1836, at the special soli¬ 
 citation of planters of that particular section of 
 country, a missionary was sent to their planta¬ 
 tions from the South Carolina Conference. I 
 was honored with the appointment. On my 
 reaching the plantation where Punch lived, I 
 found between two and three hundred persons 
 under his spiritual supervision, who had been 
 gathered into a kind of society; many of whom, 
 upon further acquaintance, I discovered to be 
 truly pious and consistent. I was much inte¬ 
 rested on my first visit to the old veteran. Just 
 before I reached his house, I met a herdsman, 
 and asked him if there was any preacher on 
 the plantation. ‘ O yes, massa, de ole bushup 
 lib here!’ ‘ Is he a good preacher?’ said I. 
 ‘ O yes,’ was the reply, ‘ he ward burn we 
 heart!’ He showed me the house. I knocked 
 
 at the door, and heard approaching footsteps 
 2 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 49 
 
 and the sound of a cane upon the floor. The 
 door opened, and I saw before me, leaning upon 
 a staff, a hoary-headed black man, with palsied 
 limbs, but a smiling face. He looked at me 
 for a moment in silence ; then, raising his hands 
 and eyes to heaven, he said, ‘ Now, Lord, let- 
 test thou thy servant depart in peace, for mine 
 eyes have seen thy salvation.’ I was confused. 
 He asked me to take a seat; and I found in the 
 following remarks the reason of his exclama¬ 
 tion. Said he, ‘ I have many children in this 
 place. I have felt, for some time past, that my 
 end was nigh. I have looked around to see 
 who might take my place when I am gone. I 
 could find no one. I felt unwilling to die and 
 leave them so, and have been praying to God 
 to send some one to take care of them. The 
 Lord has sent you, my child ; I am now ready 
 to go.’ Tears coursed freely down his time- 
 shriveled face. I was overwhelmed. 
 
 “ This interview gave me much encourage¬ 
 ment. He had heard of the application for a 
 missionary, and only wanted to live long enough 
 to see his face. After this I had several inter¬ 
 views with him, from which I learned his early 
 history. I always found him contented and 
 happy. Some time afterward he was taken ill, 
 
 and lingered a few days. On a sabbath morn- 
 Vol. II.—4 
 
50 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 ing he told me he thought he should die that 
 day. He addressed affecting words to the peo¬ 
 ple who crowded around his dying bed ; the 
 burden of his remarks—the theme of his soul, 
 was, ‘ Now, Lord, lettest thou thy servant de¬ 
 part in peace!’ He applied these words to 
 himself, and continued his address to the last 
 moment; and death gently stole his spirit away 
 while saying, ‘ Let thy servant depart in peace 
 —let—let—le !’ 
 
 “ His mistress sent for me to preach his fune¬ 
 ral sermon. The corpse was decently shrouded, 
 and the coffin was carried to the house of wor¬ 
 ship. I looked upon the face of the cold clay. 
 The departed spirit had left the impress of hea¬ 
 ven upon it. Could I be at a loss for a text ? I 
 read out of the Gospel, ‘ Now, Lord, lettest thou 
 thy servant depart in peace.’ ” 
 
 Blessed be God for the saving power of his 
 word and Spirit! This poor negro, vicious and 
 ignorant, appealed to by a passing ambassador 
 of Christ, is pierced to the heart, and, without 
 subsequent guidance from man, becomes, by the 
 renewal of the Holy Ghost, a child of God, an 
 heir of glory—the instrument of the conversion 
 of his persecutor, and the spiritual guide of 
 hundreds of African converts! and goes up at 
 last, in glorious ascension, to the “ heavenly 
 2 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 51 
 
 Jerusalem, the innumerable company of an¬ 
 gels !” 
 
 And what an example does this incident fur¬ 
 nish to the doers of good! Many would pro¬ 
 bably have passed by the benighted bondman 
 at the brook, as did the priest and Levite the 
 wounded man on the w r ay to Jericho. But the 
 human spirit, habited in rags, and deformed by 
 ignorance and vice, is as valuable in the estima¬ 
 tion of angels, as when clothed with the regalia 
 of thrones ; and such should be its estimation 
 by all Christ’s followers. How, then, should 
 they “ be instant, in season and out of season,” 
 becoming all things to all men, that they may 
 save some ! 
 
 This act of usefulness is a striking illustra¬ 
 tion of Asbury’s character—a higher certificate 
 of his apostleship than could be the loftiest abi¬ 
 lities of the pulpit, or the most pompous impo¬ 
 sition of prelatical hands. Who can doubt that, 
 in heaven, it will be signalized for its results 
 more than any of those polemical displays or 
 powers of ecclesiastical leadership which pro 
 cure the fame of greatness on earth ? If I ever 
 reach the better world, I expect to see this 
 greatest of modern bishops walking the golden 
 streets with the redeemed slave by his side, 
 one of his noblest trophies ! 
 
 2 
 
52 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 A THEOLOGICAL SKETCH. 
 
 “ Men ought alioays to pray." —Christ. 
 
 I have heard to-day a discourse on the ex¬ 
 cellency of prayer. The subject possesses a 
 logical importance and a practical grandeur 
 which interested me much, and induce me to 
 record some of its outlines. 
 
 If our world, said the preacher, had rolled on 
 until this date in its present depravity, and that 
 agony of moral wo which yet overspreads it; 
 and if it had possessed a less perfect revelation, 
 one which afforded a true knowledge of its lost 
 condition, and the awful character of God, but 
 no notion of access to him by prayer, through 
 the merits of an atonement; if it, at this mo¬ 
 ment, were in such a state—trembling under 
 the knowledge of God without daring to look 
 up unto him—groping through a half-illuminated 
 darkness, in which the realities of present 
 wretchedness could be seen, but not the hopes 
 of future relief; what would be the effect of a 
 proclamation made convincingly to the whole 
 earth, say by an apparition of angels in the firma¬ 
 ment, as once in the plains of Bethlehem, tha> 
 on a given day God would hear prayer , and tha* 
 
 supplication, offered on terms practicable to all. 
 
 2 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 53 
 
 should secure any blessing truly appropriate to 
 man, and should avail for the blessedness of 
 the suppliant, even through everlasting ages ? 
 Wliat amazement and exultation would such an 
 event spread through the world ! How would 
 the hours and moments which were yet to pre¬ 
 cede that day be counted! How would the 
 friends of the sick, by the virtue of medicines, 
 and by tender cares, try to preserve the flicker¬ 
 ing existence, that the dying beloved one might 
 pray before he departed, and the aged and de¬ 
 spairing, who have longed for the grave, seek 
 to prolong their lives to the auspicious morning! 
 Surely such a proclamation, under such circum¬ 
 stances, would be like the trump of resurrection 
 to the saints, and the emotions of mankind would 
 be like those of the despairing lunatic, when 
 some beautiful dream deludes his sleep, and 
 mingles smiles and tears on his haggard coun¬ 
 tenance. Would any sleep the last night which 
 was to precede it ? And what a sight would 
 the sun of that day witness in his course around 
 the earth, of prostrate, grateful, imploring mil¬ 
 lions ! 
 
 Such, it is probable, would be the effect of 
 novelty in a privilege which, now, because it is 
 always at our command, is reluctantly improved 
 by many, and utterly rejected by most. How 
 
 2 
 
54 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 absurd, as well as guilty, is sin ! How valua¬ 
 ble, though unvalued, the privileges of the gos¬ 
 pel ! A lost spirit would give all worlds to be 
 placed in the probationary position of a living 
 sinner ; and if the hope of salvation were to be 
 limited to one day, instead of being continued 
 through years ; if, in other words, to-morrow 
 were to be the judgment, the sun of this day 
 would go down amid the tears and prayers of 
 the world. 
 
 Yet independently of such illustrations, and 
 depreciated as the privilege of prayer is by our 
 desultory familiarity with it, to what thoughtful 
 mind does it not present itself as one of the 
 most wonderful and precious institutions of 
 religion! 
 
 Prayer is a reasonable exercise . This, said 
 the preacher, can be best shown by examining 
 those speculative objections which have been 
 preferred by skeptics against it. He examined 
 these, and refuted them thoroughly. 
 
 One, said he, is, That prayer is inconsistent 
 with the divine omniscience. “ If God knows your 
 wants, and your disposition to have them suppli¬ 
 ed, why inform and importune him in prayer ?” 
 The objection proceeds from a misapprehen- 
 • sion of the design of prayer. Its ostensible de¬ 
 sign is indeed the attainment of the blessing for 
 2 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 5 5 
 
 which wo pray ; but there is an ulterior and 
 higher object for which it was appointed, namely, 
 the spiritual influence, the disciplinary effect of 
 the habit. The objection would apply equally 
 to the other departments of God’s economy. 
 He could make bread grow spontaneously, or 
 drop manna from heaven, but he requires man 
 to toil for his sustenance. He could have con¬ 
 stituted the human mind so, that its improvement 
 might be natural, not the result of protracted 
 study ; but he has not, and why ? because he 
 saw it would be good for man to co-operate 
 with himself in procuring improvement and 
 happiness. The analogy applies equally to 
 religion, to prayer. Hence, after predicting to 
 Israel certain mercies, God still declares, “ I 
 will yet for this be inquired of by the house of 
 Israel to do it for them.” Man’s measures con¬ 
 template, usually, but a specific object, God’s 
 contemplate many at once. The apparent 
 design of the sun is to illuminate the world, 
 “to rule the day;” but, on closer examination, 
 this is found to be ordy one among many of its 
 agencies—while it enlightens, it also beautifies 
 nature with coloring ; it is essential to vege¬ 
 tation ; it varies the seasons ; it sustains in har¬ 
 monious motion the stupendous machinery of 
 
 our whole system. So in God’s moral econo- 
 
 2 
 
56 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 my, manifold results, ostensible and ulterior, 
 are accomplished. Thus is it witn prayer. 
 
 Another objection alledges that prayer is 
 inconsistent with God’s immutability. “ Why 
 entreat and importune him ? you cannot char ge 
 his immutable nature.” Here is a misappre¬ 
 hension of the divine immutability. God is 
 immutable in the principles of his administra¬ 
 tion, but not in its acts. There was a period 
 when he did not create, one when he did create, 
 and one when “ he rested from all his work 
 which he had made he changed in act, but 
 not in nature. The laws protect you to-day be¬ 
 cause you conform to them, to-morrow they may 
 put you to death for transgressing them ; not 
 because they change—the change is in your¬ 
 self. So the sinner is heard if he truly prays, 
 but lost if he prays not; yet God does not 
 change, it is his ordained and immutable eco¬ 
 nomy that it should be so. 
 
 It is asserted again that the universe is 
 governed by secondary causes , and in order that 
 prayer should bring about results different from 
 what would take place without it, there must be 
 an interference with—a suspension of those fixed 
 causes ; but we see no such interference. The 
 objection assumes that we see the whole series 
 of causes and effects ; but that series, extending 
 2 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 57 
 
 from the effect which we observe up to the first 
 cause, is immense. We notice but the lowest 
 links in the chain; how then can we assume that 
 the higher ones are not adapted or controlled so 
 as to meet this peculiarity of the moral system? 
 The last link of the series is in the hand of 
 Omnipotence. Why may not the divine energy 
 be transmitted down through the whole, with al¬ 
 mighty power, and yet with no interruption of the 
 successive links ; as the electric energy passes 
 with quickening or overpowering influence to 
 the object at the end of the chain, without visi¬ 
 ble effect on the intermediate links ? Behold 
 the mighty machinery of the steamer: the effect 
 of a man’s hand can reverse its course, and carry 
 the immense structure backward, without a 
 collision of the works ; and cannot the Maker 
 of the worlds so control his works as to bring 
 about, without confusion, results different from 
 what our little minds judge necessary to the 
 instruments which he has appointed ? 
 
 Another objection is our comparative insigni¬ 
 ficance. “ Can it be supposed that the infinite 
 God can stoop from amid all worlds to regard 
 our wants and prayers ?” Yes, said the preacher, 
 the greatness of God, the very ground of the 
 objection, is the ground of our confidence. 
 
 God is infinite; were he finite, however great 
 
 2 
 
58 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 there might be plausibility in the objection : 
 but infinite greatness implies that the small as 
 well as the great, the minutiae as well as the 
 aggregate—that all things are comprehended 
 by it. Were there a particle of sand not per¬ 
 vaded by God’s presence, then he would not 
 be omnipresent. Did the smallest animalcule 
 escape his cognizance, then he could not be 
 omniscient; his Godhead would be destroyed. 
 The arrow that misses the mark by the distance 
 of an inch, misses it as really as if by a hundred 
 feet. Infinite knowledge implies the cognizance 
 of not merely the universe at large, but, defi¬ 
 nitely, of every minute thing in it. The sigh 
 of penitence that goes up from a dying bed, in 
 the lowliest hovel, or from the dungeon of the 
 prisoner, enters into the ears of the Lord God 
 of Sabbaoth, amid the hallelujahs of all the 
 heavens. It is noticed by him as distinctly as 
 if it were the only sound in his universe. It 
 is as much the necessity as it is the mercy of 
 God’s nature that a sparrow cannot fall to the 
 ground without his notice. Thus, then, these 
 four speculative difficulties vanish, and prayer 
 may be affirmed to be a reasonable exercise. 
 
 Prayer is a salutary exercise. It is so, in the 
 first place, because it is the means of the bless¬ 
 ings prayed for. Faith is the condition of sal- 
 2 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 59 
 
 vation ; it is faith that is imputed for righteous¬ 
 ness ; yet prayer is the expression, the vehicle 
 of faith ; prayer is the wing on which faith rises 
 to the mercy-seat. The affirmation is as true 
 in regard to prayer as it is in regard to faith— 
 that no responsible sinner has ever been saved 
 without it. God has not made it one of the 
 conditions of salvation, yet it is an inseparable 
 appliance to those conditions. In the second 
 place, the disciplinary effect is salutary. We 
 have already, said the preacher, viewed this 
 aspect of the subject, but it is worthy of another 
 glance: “We find,” says a distinguished writer, 
 “ from the whole course of nature, that God 
 governs the world not by independent acts, 
 but by a connected system. The instruments 
 which he employs in the ordinary works of his 
 providence are not physically necessary to his 
 operations. He might have acted without them 
 if he pleased. He might, for instance, have cre¬ 
 ated all men without the intervention of parents; 
 but where, then, had been the beneficial connec¬ 
 tion between parents and children, and the nu¬ 
 merous advantages resulting to human society 
 from such connections ? The difficulty lies 
 here : the uses arising from the connections of 
 God’s acts may be various ; and such are the 
 pregnancies of his works, that a single act mav 
 
 2 
 
60 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 answer a prodigious variety of purposes. Of 
 these several purposes we are, for the most part, 
 ignorant; and from this ignorance are derived 
 most of our weak objections against the ways 
 of his providence ; while we foolishly presume 
 that, like human agents, he has but one end in 
 view.” Now the effect of prayer, aside from 
 its particular object, maybe among these several 
 purposes. How can it fail to be thus salutary, 
 when the first impression it gives the mind is 
 that of dependence ? If our spiritual blessings 
 were matters of course, and not of condition, 
 like the blessings of light, air, or water, we 
 would forget, as the world has in regard to the 
 latter, the merciful agency of God in conferring 
 them. Prayer, therefore, tends to humility. 
 Gratitude , likewise, is produced by it in the 
 same manner. There is no virtuous affection 
 with which it is not congenial. It is serene, 
 tranquilizing, spiritualizing. It cannot consist 
 with sin. “ Prayer,” says one, “ will make us 
 either cease sinning, or sin make us cease 
 praying.” 
 
 Prayer is a consolatory exercise. Man has a 
 moral nature. His moral faculties are as dis¬ 
 tinguishable and as constitutional as his physi¬ 
 cal or intellectual. His most perfect happi¬ 
 ness consists in the due gratification of all his 
 2 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 61 
 
 faculties. But most of mankind limit this grati¬ 
 fication to the physical nature. A few, “ of soul 
 more elevate,” add the pleasures of intellect. 
 Yet the highest demand of our nature remains 
 manswered. The greatest monsters, not only 
 )f crime but of misery, have been sensualists ; 
 md the highest intellectual powers have aided 
 mly in removing the illusions of worldly plea¬ 
 sure, and overclouding the soul with disgust and 
 despair, so that a philosopher has said, that “ a 
 fool may, but a philosopher cannot, be a happy 
 man.” Our moral wants are our largest, and 
 most urgent ones, and their neglect explains 
 the existence of wretchedness amid every other 
 gratification—in the palace as well as the hovel, 
 with the sovereign and the sage as well as the 
 pauper and the slave. There is a higher grati¬ 
 fication than that of sense ; there is a higher 
 exercise than that of thought. It is the satis¬ 
 faction of the conscience, and the exercise of 
 the heart. God made man for intercourse with 
 himsell ; all other exercises and enjoyments 
 were to be but secondary to thjft. Prayer is the 
 means ot this intercourse , its language is the 
 converse of this communion. 
 
 But it is consolatory in a second sense ; it is 
 a source of aid and security. The supplicating 
 accents ot prayer are authoritative to command 
 
62 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 for our aid the very attributes of the Deity. 
 Prayer is the eloquence that persuades God. 
 What would be the consciousness of a man in¬ 
 vested with the attributes of the Almighty— 
 omniscience to discern every danger, omnipo¬ 
 tence to avert it, and a capability of universal 
 presence to exert everywhere his wisdom and 
 power for his interests ! How fearlessly would 
 he throw himself on every emergency ! How 
 tranquilly walk through every peril! Now the 
 Christian has not these attributes, but his God 
 has, and that God pledges their interference 
 for him, in answer to prayer, in every case 
 where their interference will be for his inte¬ 
 rests ! that is, in every case where the Chris¬ 
 tian would exercise them himself, were he 
 possessed of them. He may therefore feel as 
 secure as if the powers of Godhead were at 
 his command ! These powers may allow him 
 to suffer, but no more than he himself would 
 allow, if he had infinite wisdom to discern the 
 propriety of such suffering. How sublime a 
 spectacle is the praying man in this light! 
 The stars may fall and the worlds pass away, 
 but he is safe, for the power which dissolves 
 them, supports him. A devout mind, constant 
 in the habit of prayer, may acquire such a lively 
 
 sense of the immediate presence and sympathy 
 2 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDEN'IS. 
 
 63 
 
 of God as to exult in the most trying danger 
 and be almost superior to even the instinctive 
 fears of human nature. 
 
 Prayer is a sublime exercise. The reach of 
 a mighty mind, transcending the discoveries of 
 ages, and evoking to view new principles or 
 new worlds, is sublime. Newton’s discoveries, 
 pushing human comprehension higher in the 
 series of natural causes and effects, were 
 sublime. But there may be a progress re¬ 
 maining, compared with which, his discoveries, 
 as he said himself, are like the bubble com¬ 
 pared with the ocean. But prayer sweeps over 
 all secondary causes, and lays hold on the first 
 cause ; it bends not its flight to repose its wing 
 and refresh itself amid the light of undiscovered 
 worlds, but rises above the stars and suns, until 
 it bathes its pinions in the light of “ the excellent 
 glory.” To control the tremendous force of the 
 elements, and reduce them to the servility of 
 mechanical operations, is a sublime achievement 
 Men can thereby float in palaces on seas, car¬ 
 ried by whirlwinds over fleeing mountains, or 
 drive carriages, burdened with armies, through 
 valleys and through hills, without animal effort, 
 and as swift almost as light. But what is the 
 control of the elements compared with the 
 ability of prayer to call down the powers :f 
 
 2 
 
G4 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 heaven, and summon the agency of angels ! I 
 would be a circumstance of great sublimity for 
 a man to be able to transmit his thoughts to a 
 distant planet, and hold communion with its 
 inhabitants ; but prayer aspires above all worlds, 
 and communes with Infinite Mind. It rises 
 above every subordinate reliance, and stops not 
 till it throws itself into the embrace of the Fa¬ 
 ther of all. One of the indirect, but salutary, 
 effects of prayer arises from this sublime ascen¬ 
 sion of the soul above all things limited, or caus¬ 
 ed, to the infinite. It approaches God ; it stops 
 only when all things else are lost from view, 
 and the effulgence of divinity alone shines 
 “ above, beneath, around.” The mind cannot 
 but imbibe sublimity from such a scene. A 
 praying man ought, indeed, to be sublime— 
 sublime in his sentiments and in his purposes ; 
 he holds perpetual intercourse with all grandeur. 
 If the study of greatness, in its historical 
 examples ; if association with living men of 
 greatness ; if the intercourse of archangels, 
 could tend to enlarge and elevate our senti¬ 
 ments, how much more ought the habitual 
 contemplation and communion of God to im¬ 
 prove us ! 
 
 2 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 65 
 
 MOTHER SUMA AND THE WEALTHY CONVERT. 
 
 “ The elect lady.” —John. 
 
 A number of years ago, when the now vene¬ 
 rable Bishop H-was stationed in Boston, 
 
 he was surprised one morning by the call, at the 
 parsonage, of a lady whose costly dress, and 
 elegant manners, indicated that she belonged to 
 the highest circles of the polished society of 
 that polished city. He was still more surprised 
 when, after the usual introductory phrases, she 
 made known, with language direct and decided, 
 her wish to unite with the humble society under 
 his charge. She gave him her name, and the 
 highest references in the city, for information 
 respecting her, and retired with an earnest re¬ 
 quest, that he would consider the application till 
 she should be able to have another interview. 
 
 This lady was a near relative of the cele¬ 
 brated John Hancock, whose name stands so 
 prominently on the Declaration of Independence, 
 and in the history of his country. At the 
 time of her visit at the Methodist parsonage 
 she was surrounded with all the resources and 
 gayeties of her high .sphere in life ; but that 
 blessed Spirit, which “is given to all men,” had 
 been striving with her mind, and had made use 
 Vol. IT.—5 
 
6o 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 of an instrumentality to lead her to the church, 
 and to heaven, so remarkable as to deserve no¬ 
 tice and commemoration. While living in luxury, 
 with no higher notions of religion than those 
 afforded by the fashionable Unitarianism of the 
 day, the providence of God placed in her family 
 a devoted Methodist servant-maid, to whom 
 was afterward added also, in occasional ser¬ 
 vice in the household, a pious colored woman, 
 of the same denomination. 
 
 The religious example and converse of these 
 humble Christians could not escape the obser¬ 
 vation of the lady of the house ; they were un¬ 
 ostentatious ministries which God had placed 
 there, and with the exercise of which he honors 
 his lowliest saints, while he withholds it from 
 the angels of heaven. Their mistress became 
 interested and thoughtful; she picked up one of 
 their books ; it was a volume of Wesley’s Ser¬ 
 mons. She opened at the discourse on “ The 
 Witness of the Spiritwhat a mystical phrase! 
 She had never heard of it in her own church ; 
 but on reading the text it appeared obviously a 
 proper—a Scriptural title. She read the ser¬ 
 mon through ; it poured a flood of light upon 
 her neglected spirit; if this was religion, she 
 had never known it by experience. She read 
 the whole volume : it explained to her, for the 
 2 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 67 
 
 first time in her life, the true character of per¬ 
 sonal piety, and led her to the mercy-seat to 
 seek it. Her deep and anxious convictions of 
 sin were revealed to her devoted servants, and 
 these lowly children of God, while laboring in 
 her kitchen, became her instructors and guides 
 in the way to heaven. She longed to hear a 
 genuine minister of Christ who preached these 
 new truths, and several evenings might be seen 
 this votary of the fashionable world, still array¬ 
 ed in her gay apparel, following at a short dis¬ 
 tance, and with a throbbing heart, her humble 
 colored servant to the Methodist chapel. There 
 she heard the same truths vivified by the living 
 voice ; their impression on her conscience was 
 deepened ; she sought with all her soul the par¬ 
 doning mercy of God. In a few weeks she 
 was “justified by faith, and had peace with 
 God through our Lord Jesus Christ.” 
 
 She had thus far kept her exercises of mind 
 a profound secret, known only to herself and 
 her pious servants ; she felt now that it was her 
 duty, and her only safety, to openly confess 
 Christ, and associate herself with his people. 
 Too precious were the new truths and new sym¬ 
 pathies which had dawned upon her soul to al¬ 
 low her to seek a fashionable religious commu¬ 
 nion, where the reproach of the cross might be 
 
 2 
 
68 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 evaded; the humble but devoted people, whose 
 agency had reached her, and led her to “ the 
 Lamb of God which taketh away the sins of 
 the world,” were her decided choice, and she 
 called upon their pastor, as stated, to solicit 
 admission to their lowly fellowship. 
 
 In a few days she visited him again : he had 
 consulted her references, and ascertained her 
 high family relations and excellent character. 
 No misfortune, or eccentricity of mind, could 
 account for her decided predilection for the 
 Methodist Church. She had been renewed in 
 spirit, had consecrated herself to God, and in¬ 
 tent only on the salvation of her soul, resolved 
 to place herself amid such religious associations 
 as would most effectually enable her to work 
 out her salvation with fear and trembling, and 
 she justly inferred that the obscurity and poverty 
 of the then little Methodist band would but 
 render her connection with them a more ex¬ 
 emplary proof of her love of their Redeemer, 
 and increase her facilities for usefulness. Mr 
 II. informed her that there could be no objection 
 to her reception among them ; but assured her 
 of the disparity between her circumstances and 
 habits and those of most of his people. He 
 explained to her also the disciplinary rules of 
 dress. 
 
 2 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 09 
 
 Her reply was, that she had read the Disci¬ 
 pline ; had counted the cost, and was ready to 
 conform to it. She was afterward publicly re¬ 
 ceived at the altar of the church, attired in that 
 chaste and beautiful simplicity which our Dis¬ 
 cipline and the spirit of our religion require, 
 and, above all, with that spirit of meekness, 
 that beauty of holiness, which form the loveli¬ 
 ness of piety on earth, and of angels in heaven. 
 
 She was ever after distinguished by eminent 
 piety, and all its graceful fruits. In the church 
 she found, as she had calculated, a useful field 
 for her talents and resources. Her time was 
 devoted to unostentatious charities. Not long 
 after her remarkable change, the decease of her 
 husband placed a large fortune entirely at her 
 own command. She then consecrated herself to 
 more abundant usefulness ; the poor, the sick, 
 the widow, and the fatherless, and all the be¬ 
 nevolent claims of the church, were the objects 
 of her sympathy and liberality. Thus rejoicing 
 in the hope of the glory of God herself, and dis¬ 
 pensing happiness all around her, life became 
 to her a scene of the purest blessedness. Ah, 
 if the rich and the fashionable who, with sati¬ 
 ated tastes and aching hearts, are ever turning 
 from, and anon returning to, the hollow gayeties 
 of the world, could discern the serene enjoy- 
 
 2 
 
70 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 ment of the heart which throbs only to serve 
 God and bless man, how would the attractions 
 of frivolous pleasure change to disgust! 
 
 For three years after the death of her hus¬ 
 band did this Christian lady thus minister, like 
 an angel of mercy, to the necessities of the sick 
 and the poor. At the end of this period her 
 Lord called her to her reward. Peacefully and 
 with holy joy she passed to the society of the 
 good above, with the tears and blessings of those 
 who, in humbleness of life, but with true hearts, 
 had loved in her the similitude of their Lord. But 
 if to do is to live, her life did not end with her 
 death. In dying she provided for its continu¬ 
 ance. One who has narrated the interesting 
 facts of her short but devoted pilgrimage, says, 
 “ that she appropriated in her will a liberal share 
 of her estate to various benevolent and religious 
 objects.” To the minister who had received 
 her into the church, and to his colleague, she 
 left valuable legacies, and to the church itself 
 a perpetual fund for the use of the poor. 
 
 For the above facts I am indebted chiefly ,o 
 the narrative mentioned ; but it was my lot per¬ 
 sonally to witness another incident which per¬ 
 tains to the sketch. Many years after the de¬ 
 parture of this “ elect, lady,” the providence of 
 
 God placed me in the pastoral charge of-- 
 
 2 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 71 
 
 church. Though composed of several hundred 
 members, devoted and respectable, I found none 
 more esteemed than an humble old colored 
 woman, called mother Suma. Such was the 
 purity of her Christian reputation, sustained 
 through a long pilgrimage, that it was justly 
 appreciated as the common and personal pro¬ 
 perty of the whole church. Tranquil and uni¬ 
 form in her piety, faithful through many years 
 in every duty enjoined by the church, singularly 
 useful in her sphere, and exhibiting always those 
 gentle affections so characteristic of the Afri¬ 
 can character, her color and caste seemed for¬ 
 gotten in a community where they were usually 
 strongly distinguished; she was more than re¬ 
 spected, she was beloved. Not long after my 
 arrival she died in great peace. I officiated at 
 her funeral. On entering her small rooms, no one 
 could fail to notice the impress of the good wo¬ 
 man’s mind, everything was clean and extremely 
 neat, instinct with that expression of homely 
 comfort so congenial to the tastes of pious old 
 age. Here had been her retired sanctuary, the 
 scene of her daily meditations and prayers, 
 where she daily expected her Lord and his 
 ministering angels, and it seemed in its whole 
 interior aspect to have been fitted for their re¬ 
 ception The aged saint lay, in her coffin, in 
 
 2 
 
72 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 the midst of it. I was affected to see the inte¬ 
 rest of all classes to pay her memory the last 
 acts of respect. The rooms were crowded, 
 and throngs stood around the door unable to 
 enter. The young were there, who had felt 
 themselves instructed by the lessons of her holy 
 life ; the veterans of the church, who had jour¬ 
 neyed heavenward with her from the begin¬ 
 ning of their pilgrimage, wept around her re¬ 
 mains ; the choir, with their chorister, were 
 there to sing the adieus of the church to the 
 emancipated spirit which had escaped from its 
 earthly sufferings ; and as we spoke of her ex¬ 
 cellences, and prayed that her memory might be 
 as a sweet savor among us, manv hearts felt 
 how beautiful is a holy life in even the lowliest 
 vale of earth, and how serenely pleasant its end, 
 and how hallowed its memory. More genuine 
 regards accompanied that daughter of Ethiopia 
 to the grave than attend the departure of nobles 
 or monarchs. 
 
 The reader will share my interest in this 
 humble saint, when I tell him that mother Suma 
 was the colored servant who had guided the 
 wealthy convert of the Hancock family to the 
 Methodist chapel. As an aged member of the 
 church was relating the fact to me, another 
 
 who stood by, one of its stewards, remarked, 
 2 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 73 
 
 that “ the providence of God had singularly 
 blessed the zeal of the pious African to her own 
 advantage ; that during the later and helpless 
 years of her life she had been comfortably sus¬ 
 tained by aid from the proceeds of the fund left 
 by the very lady whom she had thus led into 
 the path of life ! Every month,” he continued, 
 “ for a long time, have I carried to her humble 
 home the bounty of her deceased friend.” 
 
 How marvelously does the providence of God 
 sometimes use the feeblest means for the noblest 
 ends ! Despise not the day of small things ; for 
 “ the excellency of the power is of God and not 
 of men.” And remember that in blessing others 
 we bless ourselves ; in this life we reap a re¬ 
 ward often, in the next invariably. 
 
 2 
 
 i 
 
74 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 DOCTRINAL CHARACTER OF METHODISM 
 •' The apostles' doctrine ."—Acts ii, 42. 
 
 Methodism was providentially distinguished 
 as the instrument of reviving, in the church, the 
 most important doctrines of spiritual religion. 
 It called the attention of the Christian world 
 anew to three great principles which compre¬ 
 hend the experimental divinity of the Scriptures, 
 relating respectively to the nature , extent , and 
 evidence of personal piety, viz., the doctrines of 
 justification hy faith , sanctification , and the wit¬ 
 ness of the Spirit. These were the great im¬ 
 port of the ministry of Wesley and his coadju¬ 
 tors. They started not with the project of a 
 new sect: this, with the disciplinary system 
 upon which it was based, was an unexpected 
 result : they were intent only upon shaking out 
 of their slumbers existing sects, and replenish¬ 
 ing the popular mind of Great Britain with the 
 efficacious truths of the original faith. 
 
 The great truth of justification by faith, which, 
 under Luther, startled Europe from its sleep of 
 superstition, and produced the Reformation, was 
 the head and front of Wesley’s offending. The 
 sermons of the day, in the national church, 
 
 taught baptism as the means of regeneration. 
 
 2 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 75 
 
 After the sacramental initiation to the church, 
 all that was considered requisite for salvation 
 was a theoretical belief, and an observance of 
 the forms and moralities of religion. Hence, 
 when Wesley preached regeneration as a real 
 and conscious change, effected by a supernatu¬ 
 ral influence, and procured by faith alone, he 
 was rejected from the pulpits of London, and 
 driven to the streets and fields. The tenet of 
 sanctification, so explicitly taught and distin¬ 
 guished in the Scriptures, was involved in con¬ 
 fusion. Its real character was unknown, and 
 it was represented as anterior to justification. 
 The doctrine of the witness of the Spirit, in its 
 legitimate form, was denounced as unscriptural, 
 and the offspring of spiritual presumption. 
 
 These were the particular doctrines insisted 
 on by Wesley ; but in reviving these he aimed 
 at a general restoration of every department of 
 experimental and practical religion to its primi¬ 
 tive efficacy and vigor. He distinguished true 
 piety from forms and morals, by declaring it to 
 be spiritual and miraculous; a principle of in¬ 
 ward, fervid life, attesting its divine efficacy by 
 effects so immediate, so profound, and so uni¬ 
 form, under every diversity of circumstances, 
 as to be unquestionably preternatural. By scat¬ 
 tering thus the elements of personal piety, he 
 
 2 
 
76 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 expected to restore the life of public worship, 
 and kindle afresh the smothered fires of the 
 church altar. 
 
 In the supernatural character of Christianity 
 consists its grand peculiarity; here is its con¬ 
 trast with all ethical systems, and with natural 
 religion. They but teach the rules and present 
 the motives of virtue ; this affords the strength 
 which is necessary for their practical use—a 
 strength which is extraneous—which, in the 
 sublime language of Scripture, “ is sent down 
 from heaven.” It is this character of Christi¬ 
 anity that mankind are most reluctant to con¬ 
 cede, and most inclined to forget. This is its 
 fanaticism, its “ foolishness,” and yet the ra¬ 
 tional consistency of the whole system depends 
 upon this feature. Its fundamental truth, the 
 inveterate depravity of our nature, which is 
 likewise taught us by natural religion, requires 
 this counterpart; the practical requirements of 
 Christianity would be impracticable and absurd 
 without it. While, therefore, the foolishly wise 
 discover matter of scorn in this view of religion, 
 to the wisely foolish it exhibits the icisdom as 
 well as the power of God, and gives harmony 
 to the whole analogy of faith. History has de¬ 
 monstrated that the forms of Christianity may ex¬ 
 ist, in general vogue, among a community whose 
 2 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 77 
 
 actual condition is hardly above that of the hea¬ 
 then : that it may advance, almost to perfec¬ 
 tion, the civilization of a people, with scarcely 
 any improvement of their morals ; and in every 
 such state of society it will be found that the 
 purely spiritual traits of Christianity, those that 
 particularly belong to experimental theology, 
 are lost sight of. This was the case at the 
 period of the origin of Methodism. Read Wes¬ 
 ley’s own testimony made to the age. He 
 says : “ A total ignorance of God is univeral 
 among us. The exceptions are exceeding few, 
 whether among the learned or unlearned. High 
 and low, cobblers, tinkers, hackney coachmen, 
 men and maid servants, soldiers, sailors, trades¬ 
 men of all ranks, lawyers, physicians, gentle¬ 
 men, lords, are as ignorant of the true God as 
 Mohammedans or pagans.” 
 
 The chief reason for that great moral deteri¬ 
 oration which followed the restoration of the 
 Stuarts was the absence of the fundamental 
 principles of experimental Christianity in the 
 church. The vital doctrines of the Reformation 
 were almost entirely omitted from the popular 
 inculcation of religion. These doctrines are 
 inwrought into the very texture of the national 
 Liturgy; they were enunciated in its beautiful 
 
 service weekly, and in many places daily. 
 
 2 
 
78 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 They had consoled, in the fires of martyrdom, 
 the fathers of the English Church; but they 
 had become sounds without significance. They 
 were not distinctly exhibited in the preaching 
 of the day, and the devotions of the desk were 
 counteracted by the discourses of the pulpit. 
 The ignorance of the clergy in the knowledge 
 of their profession was incredible, if we can 
 receive Burnet’s evidence. 
 
 Some of the best theologians of the English 
 Church existed during the period under review ; 
 but they were exceptions to the general charac¬ 
 ter of the ministry. The theological student 
 cannot but observe the difference between the 
 writings of even such men as Waterland, Bull, 
 and Tillotson, on the one hand, and the Homi¬ 
 lies, the wholesome evangelic productions of 
 the reformers, Cranmer, Ridley, Latimer, and 
 Jewel, on the other. Whitefield published a 
 sermon on regeneration, which called forth 
 numerous replies, all of which show that, how¬ 
 ever explicit the doctrine may be in the stand¬ 
 ards of the church, it was not known experiment¬ 
 ally, nor theoretically, by many of the clergy. 
 One of these declares “ that, to tell Christians 
 they must be born again, who, in the soundest 
 sense, were born again [i. e. baptized] in their 
 
 infancy, is, to say the least, a great impropriety.” 
 
 2 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 79 
 
 “ The church supposes they have already been 
 bom again, and she does not command them to 
 be baptized, or born again, a second time.” 
 These are assertions from a “ fellow of Clare- 
 hall, Cambridge.” A sermon was published 
 by Dr. Stebbing, chaplain in ordinary to the 
 king, against Whitefield, in which he endea¬ 
 vors to prove that regeneration is but another 
 word for “ the new man,” and the latter but a 
 figurative name of “ practical righteousness.” 
 This sermon was indorsed and sent to White- 
 field by the bishop of Gloucester. In his reply 
 to the bishop’s letter he justly says that the au¬ 
 thor “ seems to know nothing more of the true 
 nature of regeneration than Nicodemus did 
 when he came to Jesus by night.” The bishop 
 of London, (Gibson,) in a pastoral letter, ac¬ 
 cused the Methodists of “ professing to plant and 
 propagate a new gospel, unknown to the gene¬ 
 rality of ministers and people in a Christian 
 country.” The charge referred to justification 
 by faith, and no doubt the bishop’s testimony 
 can be relied on, that it was “ unknown to the 
 generality of ministers and people.” Indeed, 
 many of the leading prelates of the day entered 
 the lists against Wesley and Whitefield, and 
 most of them opposed the very doctrines which 
 
 are now received as vital in the Christian sys- 
 
 2 
 
80 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 tem. “ Gibson compromised the apostolic doc¬ 
 trine of regeneration ; Lavington caricatured it, 
 Smallbroke all but denied the work of the Spi¬ 
 rit, and Warburton evaporated divine influence.”* 
 To the reformers of Oxford, therefore / the Chris¬ 
 tian world owes, in a great measure, the revival 
 of those cardinal truths which the church has 
 subsequently distinguished as pre-eminent, by 
 calling them evangelical. It was the vitality 
 of these truths that rendered so efficacious their 
 ministry, and that still quickens all evangelical 
 Christendom. Being the apostolic doctrines , they 
 reproduced the apostolic spirit , and, since the 
 date of Methodism, the primitive idea of mis¬ 
 sions has reappeared. Indeed, nearly all the 
 plans of Christian enterprise, which now en¬ 
 gage the attention of the church, have been 
 adopted since. The Bible, the Sunday school, 
 the tract, the temperance societies, as well as 
 the principal missionary schemes of the church, 
 have subsequently arisen. I do not assume that 
 we owe them directly to Wesley, but that they 
 sprung from the revival of the vital doctrines of 
 Christianity: that Wesley was the leading agent 
 in this revival, and Methodism its organized 
 form. 
 
 Salvation, free, full, immediate , attainable by 
 * Philip’s Life of Whitefield. 
 
 2 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 81 
 
 all, and experimentally known, these are the 
 substance of Methodist theology. They are 
 wholesome doctrines, and very full of comfort; 
 blessed be God that we know them, and are 
 commissioned to spread them through our sinful 
 and sorrowful world. Let us preach, and empha¬ 
 size, and reiterate these truths ; they are full 
 of gracious efficacy ; the common sense of men 
 will recognize them as the appropriate tenets of 
 God’s word, and their anxious spirits will find 
 in them repose. Some of us have the impres¬ 
 sion that our special work is done ; that other 
 evangelical churches have become revived; 
 and have so far adopted our views of experi¬ 
 mental religion as that we need no longer feel 
 the peculiar responsibility for the spread of 
 these views, which devolved upon our fathers. 
 Would that it were so; but we fear that it is 
 far otherwise. We acknowledge that they 
 have generally approximated our standard, but 
 they have not yet reached it. They believe 
 more than formerly in spiritual confidence and 
 a higher standard of piety ; but in how many 
 of their vestry meetings can you hear the laity 
 declaring their assurance that “ the Spirit itself 
 beareth witness with their spirits that they are 
 the children of God,” or that the blood of Christ 
 “ cleanseth them from all unrighteousness ?” 
 
 Vol. II.—6 
 
82 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 In Methodist prayer meetings these are the 
 perpetual topics ; in other churches they are 
 scarcely matters of allusion. Two of what we 
 consider vital truths of religion are yet almost 
 peculiar to us, namely, the witness of the Spirit, 
 and Christian perfection. While we lamen 
 that they are not received by other churches* 
 let us rejoice that they are household senti¬ 
 ments among ourselves, and bear in mind that 
 on us devolves the responsibility of spreading 
 them. While these views are peculiar to Me 
 thodism, it will be a peculiar privilege to be a 
 Methodist, and those who owe to the Methodist 
 Church their conversion, and yet join other com • 
 munions, from the impression that all are now 
 alike evangelical, mistake seriously. The late 
 Dr. Fisk, though, while in a backslidden state., 
 strongly inclined to the Protestant Episcopal 
 Church, felt, when he received the blessing of 
 “ perfect love,” the precious privilege of mem¬ 
 bership in a church where this doctrine was 
 taught. “ O, my brother,” he writes, “ 1 could 
 write pages on this subject, but I must forbear. 
 I thank God that I ever saw this day. I love 
 our church better than ever. How glad am I 
 that I never left it, and how thankful that they 
 never cast me off when backslidden from the 
 
 cause !”— Life , p. 73. 
 
 2 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 83 
 
 THE PRAYING MOTHER. 
 
 ‘ He heareth the 'prayer of the righteous .”—Solomon. 
 
 Mrs. L. is a remnant of the first generation 
 jf Methodists in B. She is still wending her 
 heavenward pilgrimage, after many years of 
 trial and change. Her husband was a sea 
 captain, of French origin, a Catholic in his 
 earlier religious education, but a decided skep¬ 
 tic in his maturer years, tolerating, with affa¬ 
 bility, the religious opinions of others, but utterly 
 reckless of his own. 
 
 Mrs. L. consecrated her house to God ; she 
 erected the family altar and guarded its hallow¬ 
 ed fire with the fidelity of a vestal priestess. 
 Even her infidel husband was compelled to ad¬ 
 mire her Christian integrity, and during his stay 
 at home, as well as his absence on the seas, she 
 faithfully gathered her little ones in daily do¬ 
 mestic worship. Skeptic as he was, he felt that 
 that family altar shed a cheering and hallowed 
 light on his hearth-stones, that it was a moral 
 mooring to his household during his frequent 
 and long absence—an affecting, though, it might 
 be, an illusive reminiscence of their early home 
 to his children, when, in after years, they might 
 
 be dispersed in the world. Nay, often, in for- 
 
 2 
 
84 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 eign ports, amid the dissipated scenes of a sai¬ 
 lor’s life, did strange and affecting images of 
 that home worship, the supplications and tears 
 of his wife and little ones for their wandering 
 father, pass over his memory, and often, in the 
 perilous extremity of the night storm, did the 
 trembling unbeliever bethink himself that the 
 evening prayer had gone up from affectionate 
 hearts for him, and that good might it be with 
 him if there should be a God to hear it. 
 
 Home, how salutary are its memories when 
 sanctified by virtue ! How do its dear images— 
 the faces of sisters and brothers, fathers and 
 mothers, though long since in the grave—follow 
 the wanderer over the world, like the presence 
 of blessed angels, ever and anon revealing them¬ 
 selves to his view as they hover over him with 
 looks of sweet complacency or tender rebuke ! 
 Melancholy is the privation of those who have no 
 such ministering memories, the record of whose 
 homes, written on the heart, is only of estrange¬ 
 ment and sorrow. 
 
 Mrs. L. believed not only in the moral influ¬ 
 ence of domestic religion, but in the direct an¬ 
 swer, sooner or later, of her prayers in behalf 
 of her husband and children. Years passed 
 away without the realization of her hopes ; but 
 
 she persevered, humbly and hopefully, at her 
 2 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 85 
 
 altar, till God answered her, though in a way 
 she could not have anticipated. He blessed 
 her by misfortune. She had occasion to cor¬ 
 rect her son one day by confining him to his 
 chamber. The boy escaped by a window, and 
 could not be found. Days passed away, weeks 
 and months elapsed, and no intimation of the 
 missing child was heard. The mother, wrung 
 with anguish, still clung to the domestic altar. 
 Misgivings, painful misgivings, met her there 
 during these anxious months. Had she not 
 had reason to expect a different effect on her 
 children from her efforts in their religious edu¬ 
 cation ? Had God disregarded her supplica¬ 
 tions ? Was it in vain that she planned and 
 prayed, and wept before him for them ? Ah ! 
 who has not had such assaults of the adversary 
 in dark hours ? But “ trust in the Lord, and 
 wait patiently for him.” Know ye not that 
 adverse providences are God’s most common 
 means of blessing ? that he has led the church 
 through the world, and his individual saints up 
 to heaven in triumph, by them ? Her boy was 
 wandering, she knew not where ; but God’s 
 providence was following him, and leading him 
 to his salvation. 
 
 He had embarked in a vessel, and after a long 
 voyage arrived in Charleston, South Carolina. 
 
 2 
 
86 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 Here he remained, destitute and dependent, 
 several weeks ; but at the moment of his extre¬ 
 mity his father arrived unexpectedly in the 
 harbor, from Havre, France. The boy, sub¬ 
 dued by reflection and sorrow, flew to the arms 
 of his parent, confessing his misconduct with 
 tears. The juvenile romance of adventure had 
 died in his bosom, but the tender remembrance 
 of his home still lived, melting his young heart, 
 and disposing him to return to its deserted altar, 
 and mingle there his tears with those of a mo¬ 
 ther’s anxiety and love 
 
 The vessel sailed for Havana. It arrived at a 
 time when the yellow fever raged in the city. In 
 a few days the poor boy, predisposed perhaps 
 by his anxieties and grief, was attacked by the 
 dreadful malady. And now revived, in over¬ 
 powering force, the recollections of his early 
 religious instructions. The confused reveries 
 of a fevered brain could not dispel them. The 
 atonement, the duty of repentance and faith, the 
 terrors of death, judgment, and hell, were ever 
 present to his mind. Ah ! even in this extrem¬ 
 ity the prayers of the desolate mother were 
 prevailing in heaven. 
 
 One day, when all hope of his recovery had 
 gone, the father, a man of strong feelings, en¬ 
 tered, with a broken spirit, the chamber where 
 2 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 67 
 
 he lay. The dying boy, with his tears drop¬ 
 ping upon the pillow, was sobbing the name of 
 his mother : “ My mother ! my dear mother! 
 O, that she were here to pray for me as she 
 used to !” 
 
 The father bent over him, unable, for a time, 
 to speak, but mingling his tears with those of 
 his son. Clasping his trembling hands, and 
 casting a look of appalling earnestness at his 
 parent, the boy exclaimed, “ Father, I am dying 
 with my sins upon me ! I shall be lost in my 
 present state! Send, O send for some one to 
 pray for me !” 
 
 “ My child,” replied the father, trembling 
 with emotion, “ there are none but Catholic 
 clergymen on the island, and they cannot help 
 you.” 
 
 “ 0, what shall I do, then, father V* exclaim¬ 
 ed the son. 
 
 “ Pray for yourself, my dear child,” replied 
 the father, unwilling to repose the destiny of 
 his son on his own infidel views of the future. 
 
 “ I do,” replied the boy; “ but I need the 
 help of others ; 0, can you not, will you not, 
 pray yourself for your perishing son, father ?” 
 
 The captain felt as if the earth shook beneath 
 him. He had never prayed in his life : but his 
 heart melted over his child; he felt, as by con- 
 
 2 
 
88 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 • • # 
 
 sciousness, the necessity and truth of religion. 
 He felt that none but a God could meet this 
 terrible emergency of man. As if smitten down, 
 he fell on his knees by the bedside of his son. 
 His spirit was broken ; his tears 'flowed like 
 rain, and, with agony, he called upon God to 
 save himself and his child. The family and 
 servants of the house were amazed ; but he 
 prayed on, and before he rose, his child’s 
 prayers were heard, if not his own. The suffer¬ 
 ing boy had found the peace which passeth 
 understanding. 
 
 He died trusting in his Saviour, and full of 
 tranquil hope. 
 
 Oppressed with sorrow, the father did not 
 cease to pray for himself; he was deeply con¬ 
 victed of sin, and before long found peace in 
 believing. 
 
 He returned to B— ; his child a corpse, but 
 himself a new man—the one in heaven, and the 
 other on the way. He brought to his wife the 
 first news she had received of her missing son. 
 She wept ; but with tears of gratitude as well 
 as sorrow', acknowledging that, in affliction, 
 God had blessed her. Her prayers had not 
 failed. Providence had overruled the miscon¬ 
 duct of her child for his own and his father’s 
 salvation. 
 
 2 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 89 
 
 Captain L. lived several years after this inci¬ 
 dent, a devoted Christian, and died praising God 
 sloud for his mercy to him at Cuba. 
 
 The impressions of childhood, how inefface¬ 
 able are they! How, amid the confusion and 
 dissipation of later life, do they still abide, 
 though concealed—like burning coals, smoth¬ 
 ered, but not extinguished, amid the rubbish 
 that afterward they consume ! Search the 
 records of Christian biography, especially of 
 the Christian ministry, and you will find that a 
 striking proportion were the children of Chris¬ 
 tian parents, or, at least, of Christian mothers. 
 If there are any prayers which, more than 
 others, must prevail with God, they are those 
 of the devoted mother pleading for her wander¬ 
 ing child. 
 
 3 
 
90 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 THE JEWS. 
 
 “ My covenant will I not break .”—Psalmist. 
 
 No people, whose annals have ever had a 
 record in the history of the world, afford so 
 many anomalous peculiarities as the Jews. 
 Their history is a wonderful record of almighty 
 providences. Descending from a single man, 
 a venerable patriarch, and friend of God, they 
 were multiplied like the stars of heaven, and 
 the sands on the seashore ; and from a national 
 infancy, spent in bondage, they were led by the 
 hand of a parental Providence through every 
 vicissitude of national elevation and depression. 
 At one time, guided by the Almighty in a 
 symbolic cloud and burning pillar, they triumph 
 over their foes, and spread the fear of their 
 name among the nations ; at another, they 
 mourn in captivity, and hang their harps on the 
 willows of a strange land. Once their holy city 
 rises in splendor, with its glorious temple dig¬ 
 nified by the attendance of monarchs, and sanc¬ 
 tified by the services of inspired prophets and 
 priests; and now, the ploughshare is driven 
 through its foundations, their whole national 
 organization broken up, their population, like 
 the stars of heaven scattered over the fir- 
 
 2 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 91 
 
 mament, dispersed to the boundaries of the 
 world. 
 
 And yet this singular and inscrutable course 
 of events, in the national history of the Jews, 
 was described beforehand, in prophecy, with 
 almost the same minuteness with which time 
 itself has developed it. 
 
 By Moses it was written : “ The Lord shall 
 scatter thee among all people, from the one end 
 of the earth even to the other ; and among these 
 nations shalt thou find no ease, neither shall the 
 sole of thy foot rest; and thou shalt become an 
 astonishment, a proverb, and a by-word, among 
 all nations whither the Lord shall lead thee ; 
 and thou shalt be only oppressed and crushed 
 alway.” But yet, with all these afflictions, the 
 Jews were to be preserved. “ Yet, for all that, 
 when they be in the land of their enemies I 
 will not cast them away, neither will I abhor 
 them to destroy them utterly.” “ I will make a 
 full end of all the nations whither I have driven 
 thee, but I will not make a full end of thee.” 
 
 What a literal history, written three thousand 
 years before the events, was this of the present 
 condition of the Jews ! 
 
 1. They were to be “scattered among all 
 people, from one end of the earth to the 
 other.” 
 
 2 
 
92 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 2 They were to find no ease nor rest to the 
 sole of their feet. 
 
 3. They were to be persecuted with reproach: 
 “ an astonishment, and a proverb, and a by-word.” 
 
 4. But not cut off: “ I will not cast them 
 away, neither will I abhor them to destroy them 
 utterly.” This prophecy, in all these respects 
 is now in actual exemplification on the face of 
 the whole world. 
 
 Here we have a living and everywhere exist¬ 
 ing monument of the truth of prophecy—a perpe¬ 
 tuated miracle, the laws of nature suspended, and 
 the analogy of things interrupted. 
 
 While all the other nations of the ancient 
 world have lost their national identity, and either 
 faded from the earth or been merged in new 
 combinations, the history of this singular people 
 presents us with the anomaly, as observed by 
 an able writer, not merely of a river, which, after 
 rising from its small mountain spring, continues 
 to flow through the ocean of waters without min¬ 
 gling with the general mass, but the more strik 
 ing prodigy of one whose waters have become 
 dispersed through the whole extent, and, by the 
 vicissitudes of the tides, carried to every tribu¬ 
 tary stream, and yet each drop retaining its dis¬ 
 tinctiveness from the mass, and prepared at any 
 time to be collected together. What, but a most 
 2 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 93 
 
 special Providence, has enabled this singular 
 race to resist all the social affinities that mix 
 and connect men in society; and, with a dis¬ 
 persion co-extensive with the earth, under all 
 climes, in all latitudes, in all longitudes, among 
 all nations and kindreds, and tongues and people, 
 maintain their national character without a na¬ 
 tional organization 1 Bowed down with afflic¬ 
 tions, oppressed by the legal institutions of 
 almost every country under heaven, and where 
 the civil constitution of society does not grind 
 them down, yet failing to remove the doom of 
 Heaven, the instinctive repugnance of man¬ 
 kind humbles them to the ignominy of an in¬ 
 ferior and despicable caste ; rejected of God, 
 outcast of men, it seems as if the stars of hea¬ 
 ven fought against them in their courses. The 
 sun, in his career, has been hailed in every clime 
 by their cry of lamentation and wo, as if the hand 
 of divine judgment held them up to the gaze and 
 scorn of the revolving world, and yet made them 
 immortal in dissolution itself. 
 
 The prophecy states, that though God should 
 make “ a full end of all the nations whither he 
 would disperse the Jews, yet of them he would 
 not make an end.” This has been fulfilled. 
 The nations that were contemporary with them 
 in the days of their national existence live only 
 
 2 
 
94 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 in the narration of the historian, or the desolate 
 vestiges that tell to the passing traveler the 
 sites where stood their walls and towers. 
 Babylon, Nineveh, and Tyre, have all passed 
 away from the list of nations. The descendants 
 of their ancient inhabitants are lost in the mass 
 of the world’s population. But the sons of Israel 
 still retain their ancient character, preserving 
 uncorrupted their lineage from the patriarchs, 
 the prophets, and warriors of their sacred times; 
 they travel, though “ with weary foot and restless 
 breast,” yet still the sons of ancient Zion, over 
 the ruins of the nations within whose once mighty 
 walls their fathers were led captive in chains, and 
 whose present condition their prophets proclaim • 
 ed in the ears of trembling monarchs. Though 
 accursed, they stand up, in all the world, wit¬ 
 nesses for the God they offend. In the ends 
 of the earth, in the isles of the sea, in the cities 
 of Asia, Europe, and America, on the Alps and 
 the Himalaya, on the Alleghanies, the Cordil¬ 
 leras, and the Andes, they wander among the 
 nations, yet remain distinct. 
 
 In the past and present peculiarities of this 
 afflicted people we have a certain pledge of the 
 fulfillment of the prophecies which declare their 
 future conversion and restoration. Though dis¬ 
 persed over the extent of the earth, and diffused 
 2 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 95 
 
 through the whole mass of its population, yet, 
 from the distinctness and identity of their cha¬ 
 racter, they are prepared, at any time, to obey 
 the call of that Almighty voice which has an¬ 
 nounced to the nations that the time of their 
 deliverance is yet to come. And for what pur¬ 
 pose have they been kept a distinct people, but 
 that they may yet be restored to the favor of 
 God, and reinstated in their ancient and holy 
 land ? Where is the infidel speculator who can 
 read this lesson of Providence, and dare deny 
 its convincing clearness ? 
 
 2 
 
96 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 AN INCIDENT WITH A LESSON. 
 
 “The Lord liftctli up the meek." —David. 
 
 There is moral strength in meekness—it is 
 among the surest evidences of sincerity, and 
 this, itself, is a mighty means of influence. 
 But there is, also, in its very aspect and tones 
 an intrinsic power, a suitableness to conciliate 
 and affect the mind. “ A soft answer,” says 
 the wise man, “ turneth away wrath.” “ I am 
 meek and lowly in heart,” said the incarnated 
 Almighty. When accompanied by superior 
 abilities what an effectiveness does it impart to 
 them! Artists tell us that contrasts heighten 
 effect. Splendid abilities put forth with meek 
 ness and humility appear but the more command¬ 
 ing—they take us by surprise. A person with 
 such traits conciliates us by his character while 
 he controls us by his powers; and, where no 
 superior talents are possessed, humility is a 
 grace beautiful, because befitting. The Rev. 
 
 Mr. R-, in a sermon before a numerous 
 
 audience, composed in part of preachers, related 
 an interesting anecdote, illustrative of the in¬ 
 fluence of humility in subduing a suspicious and 
 repugnant mind. He was urging the ministers 
 present to humble perseverance in their labors, 
 2 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 97 
 
 notwithstanding their peculiar trials, assuring 
 them that success would attend them often 
 where they least expected it. A young preacher, 
 said he, on going to a distant field of labor, had 
 occasion to stop over night with a farmer, a 
 member of a Calvinistic church, an honest man, 
 but, unhappily, of a peevish, suspicious temper, 
 that had been exasperated by several instances 
 of imposture, in which vagrant men had availed 
 themselves of his hospitality under the charac¬ 
 ter of Christian ministers. The young preacher 
 had just commenced his ministerial career, his 
 appearance was not prepossessing, and he was 
 depressed with anxieties respecting his untried 
 field of labor. 
 
 It was late in the evening when he reached 
 the gate of the farm-yard. The farmer came 
 forth to meet him, but with chilling coldness. 
 He made surly inquiries about his name, whence 
 he came, whither he was going, etc., express¬ 
 ing, meanwhile, by looks, his suspicions ; and 
 giving very direct intimations about false preten 
 sions, etc. Weary and depressed as was the 
 stranger, he felt a momentary indignation, but, 
 repressing it, he resolved to copy the meek¬ 
 ness of his Master, and, by his example, if not 
 otherwise, attempt to curb the perversity of his 
 rustic host. He was pointed to the stable, with 
 Vol. II.— 7 
 
98 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 permission to feed his horse, and come into the 
 house. As he approached the house he was 
 directed to the kitchen. Some food was spread 
 upon a rude table for him. The hired men in 
 .he kitchen whispered to each other their sur¬ 
 prise that he was not invited into the pallor. 
 Though of humble origin himself, he felt keenly 
 the indignity of his treatment; the pride of his 
 heart for a moment revolted, and he arose to 
 resume his journey, with the prospect of a rainy 
 night; but he suddenly checked his feelings, 
 and, looking to God, resolved to await patiently 
 the result of this strange scene. 
 
 It was not long before all were called into 
 another room for family prayers. The preacher 
 followed the hired laborers, and took his seat 
 in a corner. The farmer read a chapter in the 
 Bible. At the end of it he was evidently em¬ 
 barrassed by an inward struggle, not knowing 
 ' v hat to do ; but, finally, turning to the preacher, 
 he abruptly asked him to pray. They knelt 
 down, and the young man, oppressed with feel¬ 
 ings which prayer could best relieve, poured 
 out his soul and tears before God. A divine 
 influence came down upon all present; they 
 sobbed around him. The meek pathos of his 
 tones, the spirituality of his sentiments, the 
 
 evangelical views involved in the prayer, and 
 2 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 99 
 
 its prevailing earnestness, struck all present. 
 The morose farmer, subdued and melted, ap¬ 
 proached him at the conclusion of the prayer, 
 and, in the presence of the family, with flowing 
 tears, begged his pardon. 
 
 “ I should not have been so suspicious,” he 
 said, “ but I have been all day under a strong 
 temptation of the adversary—my mind has been 
 irritable—my conduct toward you to-night is a 
 mystery to myself—I cannot account for it even 
 by the state of my mind during the day. I have 
 not been myself or I would not have so treated 
 you. Forgive me, sir. How have you been 
 able to endure it ?” 
 
 “ My Lord,” replied the youthful preacher, 
 “has said, Learn of me, for I am meek and low¬ 
 ly in heart. It is my ambition to do so. Try, 
 my brother, to learn the same lesson.” It was 
 the keenest rebuke that could be given to the 
 farmer ; he felt its pertinency, made the hum¬ 
 blest acknowledgments, and begged his mal¬ 
 treated guest to tarry at the house several days, 
 and preach to the family and neighbors. His 
 engagements would not allow him to remain so 
 long ; but, such was the importunity of his host, 
 that he consented to preach the next day. That 
 night he reposed in the best chamber of the 
 house and his rest was sweetened by the 
 
100 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 thought that he had conquered a perverse mind 
 by an example of meekness. The next day he 
 preached with deep effect, and went on his jour¬ 
 ney with the prayers and blessings of the farmer. 
 
 “ And what,” said the Rev. Mr. R-, “ do 
 
 you suppose was the result ? The old farmer 
 was a better man ever after; the sermon of the 
 young preacher had a salutary iufluence on the 
 whole neighborhood, several were awakened, 
 and among these three of the farmer’s children ; 
 two of them have since gone safe to heaven. 
 Ah! it is the temper of Christ that fits us for 
 usefulness !” 
 
 During the relation of this anecdote, the Rev. 
 Mr. C., who was one of the hearers, was deeply 
 excited. His color changed frequently, and, at 
 the conclusion, he burst into tears, and was so 
 overpowered and faint that he had to be led out. 
 On recovering his strength and self-possession, 
 the mystery was solved. He was the young 
 man alluded to by the preacher, but he had 
 never learned before the happy results of the 
 circumstance. When the preacher mentioned 
 them he was taken by surprise ; grateful joy 
 filled and overflowed his heart, and his emotions 
 were too intense for his strength. 
 
 “ Cast thy bread upon the waters, for thou 
 shalt find it after many days.” 
 
 2 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS- 
 
 101 
 
 METHODISM—ITS SPECIAL CHARACTER. 
 
 “ Wesleyan Methodism is one of the greatest devel¬ 
 opments of Christianity during the last century 
 
 Rev. R. S. Chandlish, Edinburgh. 
 
 It is all important to the continued prosperi¬ 
 ty of Methodism that its friends ever bear in 
 mind the special character of its mission. 1Me¬ 
 thodism is a special system, and every Methodist 
 ought to be a special Christian. Titus ii, 14. 
 Its whole history and character are impressed 
 with the marks of a special design. It origi¬ 
 nated at a special time, a period in which, as we 
 have seen, Dr. Watts declared that “religion was 
 dying in the world;” and when Butler assures us 
 that Christianity was “ treated as if it had, at 
 length, been discovered to be fictitious.” “ Just 
 at the time,” says Wesley, “ when we wanted 
 little of filling up the measure of our iniquities, 
 did two or three of the clergymen of the Church 
 of England begin vehemently to call sinners to 
 repentance.” Few periods in the history of 
 the English Church were darker. I have 
 already shown that natural religion had become 
 the substance of preaching; that Arianism and 
 Socinianism, under the influence of such men 
 as Priestley, Whiston, and Dr. S. Clarke, were 
 
 2 
 
102 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 current among the learned ; that the most giant 
 advocates of skepticism England has produced 
 —Hobbes, Bolingbroke, Hume, and Gibbon— 
 were appearing, or just had appeared, in the 
 conflict with Christianity; while, across the 
 channel, the strong-holds of the Reformation 
 were yielding to a deistical theology, and the 
 French philosophers were spreading moral con¬ 
 tagion through Europe. At this dark period did 
 God raise up Wesley, Whitefield, and their co¬ 
 laborers, and thrust them out to revive the ele¬ 
 mentary doctrines of Christianity, and exemplify 
 again the apostolic spirit and labors. 
 
 Not only did it arise at a special time , but the 
 men who introduced it were special men. It is 
 not hazarding much to say that, in the group 
 of its earlier characters, we meet with some 
 who were the most extraordinary in their re¬ 
 spective spheres that have appeared since the 
 foundation of Christianity:—Wesley, one of 
 the greatest of ecclesiastical legislators; White- 
 field, the most extraordinary pulpit orator; 
 Charles Wesley, the best of sacred poets; 
 Fletcher, one of the most profound polemics ; 
 Coke, the greatest leader of modern missions ; 
 Asbury, the most laborious of bishops ; and two 
 commentators, Clarke and Benson, one among 
 
 the most learned, and the other among the best 
 2 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 103 
 
 of practical expositors. Who can doubt the 
 evidence of divine Providence displayed in the 
 coexistence and co-operation of these remark¬ 
 able men ? While Wesley was employing his 
 wonderful powers in constructing and establish¬ 
 ing the economy of Methodism, Whitefield was 
 rousing for it the popular sympathies by his 
 eloquence, and preparing especially other sects 
 for the influence which time has shown it was 
 destined to exert upon them; Charles Wesley 
 was imbodying its tenets and spirit in verse, 
 and preparing, for its future hundreds of thou¬ 
 sands, an unrivaled psalmody; Fletcher was 
 defending, with a battle-ax which nothing could 
 withstand, its theology, and vindicating it as 
 much by his spirit as his logic ; Coke was de¬ 
 veloping its plans of foreign conquest; Asbury, 
 the great pioneer of American revivals, was 
 applying its energies to the new circumstances 
 of this continent; and Benson and Clarke 
 followed, fortifying it firmly on the foundation 
 of the Scriptures. These were the leaders ; 
 but the subordinate instruments were likewise 
 marked by strong characteristics, distinguishing 
 them as men raised up by God for an extraor¬ 
 dinary purpose. 
 
 The measures of Methodism bear the same 
 
 special character. Dr. Chalmers has charac- 
 
 2 
 
104 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 terized it as “ Christianity in earnest.” Effect, 
 and immediate effect, is its uniform intent. 
 Wesley and his coadjutors preached the com- 
 mon doctrines of the gospel, but distinguished 
 them more clearly, and emphasized them more 
 strongly, than others, insomuch that they struck 
 the public attention as new truths. They were 
 not content with the limits of church edifices, 
 but betook themselves to the open air. Station¬ 
 ary labors could not satisfy their zeal; but they 
 went up and down the land, preaching by 
 night and by day; they “ ran to and fro, and 
 knowledge increased.” Methodism could not 
 delay its great designs by waiting for a minis¬ 
 try qualified by the old course of preparatory 
 education ; but revived the apostolic example 
 of a lay ministry. It could not allow these the 
 limited labors of a single charge ; but hastening 
 them from place to place, it revived the means 
 by which the apostolic ministry conquered the 
 world—an itinerant ministry. Not content with 
 its regular labors, it appropriated all its subor¬ 
 dinate energies in the new offices of local 
 preachers, exhorters, and leaders. While it 
 retained the more formal means of grace, it 
 either introduced, or adopted, the class-meeting , 
 the hand-meeting , the prayer-meeting, the camp- 
 
 meeting, the love-feast, and the watch-night. 
 
 2 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 105 
 
 Thus it studied to apply every energy, and to 
 apply it in the most productive manner. The 
 effective system of American Methodism exem¬ 
 plifies well this, its practical energy. It is a 
 vast and powerful machinery. Our general 
 conferences, annual conferences, quarterly con¬ 
 ferences, leaders’-meetings, and class-meetings ; 
 our gradations of labor—bishops, presiding el¬ 
 ders, circuit preachers, stationed preachers, local 
 preachers, exhorters, and leaders—form a series 
 of instrumentalities unequaled in the economy 
 of any other Protestant denomination. 
 
 Not only has it been thus special in the cir¬ 
 cumstances of its origin, in its characters and 
 measures, but also in its spirit. What candid 
 observer, however he may question some of its 
 peculiarities, will deny, that a more than com¬ 
 mon share of the divine influence has been 
 vouchsafed to it, and that its system has been 
 extraordinarily productive ? We assert it, not 
 boastfully, though gratefully, and as an unques¬ 
 tionable fact of its history —a fact which ought 
 to be particularly regarded, if we would appre¬ 
 ciate the system and mission which God has 
 appointed us. How is it, otherwise, that such 
 general and constant revivals prevail under it ? 
 that so many thousands have been rescued by 
 it from the lowest conditions of vice ? that such 
 
 3 
 
106 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 multitudes have passed from within its pale joy¬ 
 fully to the church triumphant ? and that a num¬ 
 ber, exceeding, by nearly one half, the next 
 largest sect in the land, are still marching under 
 its banners to the same heavenly Jerusalem ? 
 This special success is the result of a special 
 energy, and all men, whose eyes are open, be¬ 
 hold it. 
 
 Methodism is essentially vital and operative : 
 it must ever be so : it is an absolute necessity of 
 its system. And herein we observe a peculiari¬ 
 ty which ought to strike, most impressively, its 
 friends as guarantying, with the divine blessing, 
 its perpetual integrity and prevalence. All other 
 sectarian forms of Christianity have declined. 
 Congregationalism, with its simple rites, be¬ 
 came a lifeless system of religious common¬ 
 places. “ Protestant Episcopalianism” degene¬ 
 rated into a spiritless ritual. All the distinctive 
 and essential traits of each have coexisted with 
 a general absence of vital religion. The state of 
 the English Church when Methodism began was 
 an example of the latter ; the state of the New- 
 England Church before and after Edwards of the 
 former. But we can hardly conceive of Me¬ 
 thodism in such a state. While these denomi¬ 
 nations have lost their vitality, without losing 
 any of their distinctive traits, Methodism abso 
 2 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 107 
 
 lutely cannot thus decline without the extinction 
 of all that is distinctively Methodistic in its sys¬ 
 tem. We are almost induced, in this view, to 
 consider it a final form of Christianity—a mil¬ 
 lennial system. How can we conceive of a life¬ 
 less laity imbodied in classes, and meeting 
 weekly to converse of Christian experience ? 
 Or of a dead ministry, leading the pilgrim life 
 of itinerants ? Or of such a laity hearing, and 
 such a ministry preaching, the distinctive doc¬ 
 trines of Methodism— distinguishable conversion , 
 the witness of the Spirit, and Christian perfec¬ 
 tion ? Herein, then, is Methodism unique : it 
 cannot, like other sects, decline seriously, and 
 retain its distinctive character: it can only fall 
 by a revolution of its whole practical system : it 
 must lose its identity, and be no longer Method¬ 
 ism. We do not assert its infallibility, but its 
 singular security. It may experience such a 
 revolution ; but who will predict it ? 
 
 In all these respects Methodism is marked 
 with a special character and a special purpose. 
 Wesley said that its purpose was to “spread 
 holiness over the land but it is greater: it is 
 o “ spread holiness over the world.” It was 
 raised up, not merely to resuscitate the English 
 Church, but to affect all Protestant Christen¬ 
 dom, either by its direct action, or by its exam- 
 
 2 
 
108 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 pie. It is a missionary church m its plans , a 
 revival church in its spirit; and such it promises 
 to be until the world is redeemed. 
 
 I have said that it is important that we bear 
 in mind tbe special character of our cause. 
 
 First, the idea of our special character will 
 lead us to hear patiently the special inconveniences 
 of our system. The greatest of these, to both 
 people and preachers, arise from our itinerancy ; 
 and the most serious objection under which our 
 polity suffers is brought against the appointing 
 power upon which the itinerancy is based; yet 
 this itinerancy, with its episcopal basis, is the 
 most indispensable feature of our economy. 
 Abolish it, and you cut the locks from your 
 young giant. Besides its moral effect upon 
 the ministry, by reminding them that here they 
 have no abiding city; and upon the people, by 
 the constant distribution of our various talents, 
 it is necessary to the support of a large portion 
 of our appointments. Many of these do not 
 afford a full support to the preacher ; and thus 
 it must be w T hile there is a frontier to our work ; 
 and such a frontier there must be till the world 
 is evangelized. Some of them require actual 
 suffering. Methodist preachers are of like pas¬ 
 sions with other men : they know it, and there 
 fore have they adopted a system which, by it* 
 2 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 109 
 
 authoritativeness, will not allow of the indul¬ 
 gences and evasions of selfishness ; and, by the 
 frequent changes which it effects, distributes 
 and relieves the inconveniences which it im¬ 
 poses. What would become of these indigent 
 appointments, if the appointing power were 
 vested in the whole conference, or a committee 
 of its appointment, subject to an appeal to the 
 conference ? Who would appoint himself to 
 such posts ? Who would not feel disposed to 
 escape, by all possible means, the embarrass¬ 
 ments and sufferings which most of our preach¬ 
 ers now endure ? Some there might be, who, 
 brave of heart, would court perils, and exult in 
 the brunt of the battle ; but many, without doubt, 
 would seek, like troops in the field, who should 
 have the choice of their own position, the se¬ 
 curer posts. I have no doubt that one-third of 
 all our appointments would be left unsupported 
 in a few years after such a revolution in our 
 ecclesiastical polity. I do not depreciate our 
 preachers by this remark ; I base it on a just 
 view of human nature ; all who understand hu¬ 
 man nature will accede to it. Their work is 
 militant: like men in battle, they know they 
 must suffer, must stand amid mortifications and 
 perils, which are rarely matters of voluntary 
 
 choice; and, therefore, like soldiers, in the 
 
 2 
 
110 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 emergencies of war, they pledge themselve? o 
 obey their leaders ; but those leaders are of 
 their own constitution, and the measure of obe¬ 
 dience is of their own devising. Selecting the 
 fathers of the ministry for their superintendents, 
 they say unto them, “ Here we have no abiding 
 city,” and, “ Though bonds and afflictions await 
 us, yet none of these things move us ; neither 
 count we our lives dear unto us, so that we 
 might finish our course with joy, and the min¬ 
 istry which we have received of the Lord Jesus, 
 to testify the gospel of the grace of God point 
 us, therefore, to the positions most suitable for 
 us ; let them be easy or perilous, secure or dan¬ 
 gerous, “ here are we ; send us.” 
 
 This is the language of a genuine Methodist 
 preacher ; and this is not the language of servi¬ 
 lity, but of a heroic spirit of self-sacrifice, pro¬ 
 duced, under God, by that truly militant system 
 which some, indisposed to its labors, or impa¬ 
 tient of its authority, would abolish. Let it be 
 abolished, and the permanent triumphs of Me¬ 
 thodism cease: our ministry will become like 
 other ministries. What other preachers go, or 
 would go, where Methodist preachers go ? With 
 all their poverty and illiteracy, are they not the 
 front line of the American ministry on the borders 
 
 of civilization ? and do they not, in our older 
 2 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 Ill 
 
 communities, perform labors and sustain bur¬ 
 dens which few, if any, of the clergy of other 
 sects do ? And how but by the peculiarity of 
 their system ? 
 
 Let it not be objected that the English Me¬ 
 thodist preachers are subject to no such abso¬ 
 lute control. If it were true, yet there is no 
 analogy between the cases. There is no Eng¬ 
 lish preacher who does not get a comfortable 
 support, either from his people or the funds of 
 the conference. The English Conference re¬ 
 ceives no appointment except as a mission, un¬ 
 less it can support a preacher. The appoint¬ 
 ments of the English preachers are made by a 
 committee. This is virtually the case in the 
 American church, the presiding elders being, 
 to all intents and purposes, such a committee 
 in conjunction with the bishops ; and, for my 
 own part, I would rather have such a com¬ 
 mittee, composed of men who, from their offi¬ 
 cial position, can have a knowledge of the gene¬ 
 ral demands of the work, and are not liable to 
 the interferences of personal interest, than one 
 composed of men who have a common place 
 with myself in the list of appointments. The 
 English preachers were subject to an individual 
 and absolute appointing power, until about the 
 
 time in which their fiscal system allowed of a 
 
 2 
 
112 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 modification ; and the appointments of this com¬ 
 mittee are generally as inexorable as those of 
 our committee of presiding elders and bishops. 
 Indeed, a large majority of Wesleyan preachers 
 have no voice whatever in the proceedings of 
 their conference. But one hundred can act at 
 all, as instituted by Wesley. 
 
 We believe Methodist preachers are almost 
 universally and immovably attached to their 
 present government. A few aspiring or disap¬ 
 pointed spirits may revolt, a few more of better 
 integrity may, for want of a close investigation 
 of its advantages, wish for a change ; but the 
 latter generally come out right in the end; and 
 the former have never permanently injured us, 
 and have never been succeeded by the provi¬ 
 dence of God. Meanwhile Methodism is ad¬ 
 vancing in triumph. Tens of thousands flock 
 to her ranks yearly, hundreds of thousands have 
 gone up to heaven from her pale, and hundreds 
 of thousands are on their way. They have 
 been opposed at each inch of their advance¬ 
 ment, but they have pressed onward, and from 
 all quarters the cry is, Still they come ! In the 
 village and in the city, in the wigwam of tne 
 savage and the hut of the slave, on the shores 
 of the Puritans and on the banks of the Co¬ 
 lumbia, amid the colds of Canada and the 
 2 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 113 
 
 savannas of Texas, the preachers of this “ de¬ 
 spotic” system are suffering and triumphing. 
 On them and on their fields God has deigned 
 the greatest outpourings of his Spirit in modem 
 times ; and there is but one prospect before 
 them, if they will preserve, unimpaired by 
 innovation, their economy and doctrines, and 
 that is, universal progress. 
 
 Second, it will explain the indisposition of the 
 church to change its polity , by conforming it to 
 the notions of those who clamor for what they 
 call a republican church. There are theocratic 
 traits of the Christian church, which will not 
 allow fully of such a character. The most 
 ostensible department of the church—the mi¬ 
 nistry—is not representative ; it cannot be cre¬ 
 ated, though it should be sanctioned, by the 
 people : God alone, by the election of his Spirit, 
 can appoint men to preach ; and such as he calls 
 are the divinely-authorized expositors of his 
 truth and administrators of evangelical ordi¬ 
 nances and discipline. The question of reli¬ 
 gious liberty pertains not so much to the church 
 as to the state. Where the civil government 
 imposes no religious system, the rights of con¬ 
 science are guarantied. Under its broad 
 shelter men may properly form the most 
 ria-orous religious combinations, provided they 
 Vql. II.—8 
 
114 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 can enter into and retire from them volun 
 tarily. 
 
 The appointing power of the Methodist epis¬ 
 copacy I have shown to be one of the most 
 essential features of our polity: when it is 
 abolished our itineracy will become a nullity. 
 And yet this is the peculiarity of our system 
 which is most abhorred by “ reformers,” so 
 called. And why this hostility to it ? Is not 
 its chief pressure on the ministry ; and is it not 
 a creation of the ministry itself? Our bishops 
 do not usurp this high prerogative, but the min¬ 
 istry itself maintains it, and appoints the bishop 
 to bear it. The ministry can repeal it, if it 
 pleases. Why, then, this outcry against an au¬ 
 thority which is voluntarily sustained by those 
 who suffer its chief inconveniences ? Is it said 
 that “ such a prerogative involves undue power ? 
 It is inconsistent with the republican principles 
 of the country ?” etc. I reply, that it is net 
 more so than some usages which the civil policy 
 of our country creates and sanctions. The 
 country sustains an army. The power of mili¬ 
 tary command is absolute, even unto death. The 
 soldier’s only maxim in the field is, “ Obey,” 
 if it carries him to the mouth of the cannon 
 And yet, he is a free citizen of this republican 
 
 government, in all his civil relations. I men- 
 2 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 115 
 
 tion this case merely to show the absurdity of 
 that indiscriminate cry of “ republicanism,” 
 “ personal rights,” etc., which is so unceasingly 
 uttered by reformers. I love republicanism : 
 my attachment to it grows with my growth ; but 
 I love it too much to see it abused to the pur¬ 
 poses of anarchy. By the sweeping generali¬ 
 zations of such logicians, we must not only 
 abolish our military and naval regimen, but also 
 the government of our colleges and academies, 
 and of most of our voluntary organizations. 
 There is no leading denomination in the land 
 whose system is strictly modeled after that of 
 the civil government. The Methodist com¬ 
 munity are as true to their country as any other 
 sect; but they have found their religious econo¬ 
 my peculiarly successful. It was not devised, 
 but grew up providentially ; and, being assured 
 of the protection of their individual rights by 
 the civil law, they have not deemed it wise to 
 risk its efficiency by attempting to adjust it to 
 the relative and abstract rights of its different 
 subjects ; but consent to a mutual sacrifice for 
 the common good. Their only object being the 
 “ spread of holiness,” their only inquiry is, “How 
 shall we most effectually accomplish it ?” 
 
 Third, the influence of this single impression 
 will he powerful. Let it be the universal idea of 
 
 2 
 
116 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 the church that we may lead on the aggressive 
 movements of Christianity, and our zeal will be 
 redoubled. Hitherto we have been surprised 
 at our own success, without a definite inference 
 of its future results. We have exclaimed, 
 “ What hath God wrought!” and wondered 
 whereunto it would tend. Standing now far in 
 front of the religious bodies of this great nation, 
 and prominent in the van of those of Europe, 
 we ought to project plans for the future ; and 
 they should be sublime ones, befitting the gos¬ 
 pel, and comprehensive as our lost world. Our 
 zeal should look forward to the time when Meth¬ 
 odist itinerants shall traverse the wilds of Africa 
 and the deserts of Tartary, and shout for joy 
 along the Andes and the Himalaya. “ But 
 this is enthusiasm yes, it is ; yet it does not 
 transcend the power or the promise of God. 
 It is the enthusiasm that inflamed the prophets 
 and bled on the cross for our redemption ; and 
 it must yet thrill through the church before she 
 will put on her full energy. Heretofore she has 
 moved by occasional impulses. Ever and anon 
 a glory, as of the latter day, has dawned upon 
 her, but been followed by darkness. But now 
 good men are looking at the signs of the moral 
 heavens with new eagerness and hope. In all 
 
 lands great and effectual doors are opening. 
 
 2 " 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 117 
 
 New means of spiritual warfare are constantly 
 arising. A special providence seems to control 
 the course of civil events. The political arm 
 of antichrist at least is broken, and the crescent 
 of the false prophet but gleams on the horizon. 
 Great revivals are waking up Christendom ; and 
 the idea is becoming general in the church that 
 the morning of the latter day is upon us, and 
 the final battles are at hand. In these circum¬ 
 stances, how stands Methodism ? One of the 
 largest corps of the evangelical host, disciplined 
 and hardy by nearly a century of conflicts, pos¬ 
 sessing energies unequaled by any other sect, 
 and lacking only a more definite conception of 
 its true capability to enable it to scatter dismay 
 and trembling among the powers of darkness. 
 We have a tolerable idea of the nature of our 
 mission, but not of its extent. We work well 
 at the posts which have fallen to us, but show 
 a culpable hesitancy in assuming our true posi¬ 
 tion. Denominations of much less strength 
 are before us in their efforts for education, mis¬ 
 sions, etc., and their influence on the public 
 mind. Being first in numerical strength, it de¬ 
 volves on us to be first in all Christian efforts ; 
 but we are not yet second. Our missionary 
 contributions are an example : our present in¬ 
 come would be quadrupled by each member 
 
 2 
 
J18 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 paying only a cent a week. Let the idea of 
 our special mission be generally received, and 
 it will at once arouse us from this apathy ; and, 
 when once awakened, we shall find our re¬ 
 sources a hundred-fold greater than we have 
 apprehended them to be. O that the young 
 generation of Methodists, to whom is committed 
 the future, may understand their “ high calling,” 
 and “ acquit themselves like men !” Let them 
 be admonished that theirs will be a rare re 
 sponsibility, and, if faithfully sustained, as glo 
 rious in honor and reward as in responsibility 
 2 
 
 /CfJlW) 'i V. .If* . 4-i S t: ■ ,*! ~ >, • ’■ t 
 
 vxkiwcri 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 119 
 
 VISIT TO THE TOMB OF WHITEFIELD. 
 
 “ Mighty through God." —Paul. 
 
 In a late journey through New-England, I 
 stopped at Newburyport to see the tomb of 
 Whitefield. The visit will always be memora¬ 
 ble to me. It suggested reflections impressive 
 and profitable. Whitefield’s name belongs to 
 Methodism ; his partial separation from Wes¬ 
 ley was a misfortune, but his life was spent in 
 the same great evangelical movement. We 
 must not forget that he belonged to the “ Oxford 
 Clubthat he was the first of the little band 
 that carried the true light into the coal mines of 
 Kingswood, and the first who had the courage 
 to preach in the open air. His stirring elo¬ 
 quence prepared the popular mind for the more 
 systematic operations of Methodism in both 
 England and America. 
 
 His remains are deposited in a vault under 
 the Federal-street church—a church in which 
 he had often preached, and in sight of the house 
 in which he expired. As we passed near the altar 
 our attention was arrested by a massive marble 
 cenotaph, erected to his memory by a wealthy gen¬ 
 tleman of the town. The sexton, having lighted 
 
 his lantern, led us into a little vestry behind the 
 
 2 
 
120 
 
 SKETCHES AN D INCIDENTS. 
 
 pulpit, in the floor of which is a small trap-door 
 This he opened, and we descended into a dark 
 apartment., much like a common cellar. On one 
 side of this apartment is a door opening into the 
 vault, which extends under the pulpit. We 
 passed into it. The faint light of our lantern 
 gave a solemn gloom to this dark but hallowed 
 resting-place of the great modern evangelist. 
 Three coffins lay before us; two containing 
 the remains of ancient pastors of the church. 
 The lid of each was open sufficiently to show 
 the head and chest, and the skeleton faces stared 
 on us with ghastly expression, as we held over 
 them our dim light. Our footsteps and our 
 subdued voices called forth a faint and trem¬ 
 bling echo, and even this tomb of glorified saints 
 seemed instinct with the gloom and dread of 
 death, reminding us of the doom of the fall. 
 
 A slight depth of black mold covered the bot¬ 
 tom of Whitefield’s coffin, and on this lay the 
 bare bones. I took his skull into my hands, 
 and examined it with intense interest. What 
 thoughts of grandeur and power had emanated 
 from that abode of the mind, and stirred with 
 emotions the souls of hundreds of thousands 
 —emotions which will quicken their immor¬ 
 tality ! I held it in silence, but my mind ran 
 
 over the history of the “ seraphic manand 
 2 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 121 
 
 started, and endeavored to solve, a thousand 
 queries respecting the attributes of his charac 
 ter, and the means of his wonderful power 
 My reflections followed me from the place. I 
 asked myself what constituted the peculiar effi¬ 
 ciency of Whitefield’s preaching 1 
 
 Doubtless, the first, the strongest cause of it, 
 was that remarkable combination of the unction 
 from above, the “ Holy Ghost and power,” with 
 intense natural sensibility, which distinguished 
 him. He was “ full of faith and the Holv 
 
 a/ 
 
 Ghost.” In him religion was from the time of 
 his conversion to his death a continual impulse ; 
 zeal for souls an unbroken spell. All his the¬ 
 ological opinions, his ideas of sin and holiness, 
 of heaven and hell, were not merely thoughts, 
 but sentiments ; not speculations, but unques¬ 
 tionable realities. They were appreciated by 
 nim as vividly as sensible facts are by ordinary 
 men. This vivid spirituality inflamed his en¬ 
 tire soul, and made him pass through the 
 churches like an angel of light. A spiritual 
 unction seemed to drip down his whole person, 
 like the anointing oil that “ went down to the 
 skirts of Aaron’s garments.” 
 
 It has been said that all his sentiments were 
 passions. Few, if any, ever had keener sen¬ 
 sibilities. Remarkably strong affections cha- 
 
 2 
 
122 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 racterized the whole course of his life. “ While 
 seeking religion,” he says, “ God only knows 
 how many sleepless nights I have lain on my 
 bed, groaning under what I felt. Whole days 
 and weeks have I spent lying prostrate on the 
 ground in silent or vocal prayer.” It was the 
 working of his strong sensibility that gave a 
 charm to his preaching, and drew, as by magic, 
 the multitudes after him. Under his first ser¬ 
 mon, it was reported that “ fifteen persons 
 were driven mad,” that is, convicted of sin. 
 His popularity was immediate and boundless. 
 Speaking of one place, he says, “ The whole 
 city seemed alarmed, and the doctrine of the 
 new-birth made its way like lightning into the 
 consciences of the hearers.” On visiting Bris¬ 
 tol, multitudes came out of the city on foot and 
 in coaches to escort him ; and the people hailed 
 him as he passed through the streets. His con¬ 
 gregations were so crowded that he could with 
 difficulty make his way to the pulpit. “ Some 
 hung upon the rails of the organ-loft, others 
 climbed upon the leads of the church, and, al¬ 
 together, made the church so hot with their 
 breath, that the steam would fall from the pillars 
 like drops of rain.” Sometimes, after his preach¬ 
 ing, the multitude, little children and old men, 
 went weeping and wailing through the streets. 
 
 2 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 123 
 
 When he visited Scotland the second time, the 
 people crowded to the shore at Leith, weeping 
 and blessing him; they pursued his coach to 
 Edinburgh, pressing to welcome him when he 
 alighted, and to hold him in their arms. “ The 
 effect which he produced,” says a distinguished 
 writer, “ was maddening.” At Cambuslang it 
 was incredible. He says, “ I preached, at two, 
 to a vast body of people, and at six in the even¬ 
 ing, and again at nine. Such a commotion 
 surely never was heard of, especially at eleven 
 at night. For about an hour and a half there 
 was such weeping, so many falling into deep 
 distress, and expressing it in various ways, as 
 is incredible. The people seem to be slain 
 by scores. They are carried off, and come into 
 the house like soldiers wounded in and carried 
 off a field of battle. Their cries and agonies 
 are exceedingly affecting. Mr. M. preached, 
 after I had ended, till past one in the morning, 
 and then could scarcely persuade them to re¬ 
 tire ; all night, in the fields, might be heard the 
 voice of prayer and praise.” On returning to 
 administer the sacrament, he says, “ Scarce 
 ever was such a sight seen in Scotland. There 
 were upward of twenty thousand persons. 
 Two tents were set, and the holy sacrament 
 
 was administered in the field. When I began 
 
 2 
 
124 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 to serve at one of the tables, the power of God 
 was felt by numbers ; but the people crowded 
 upon me so that I was compelled to desist, and 
 go and preach at one of the tents while the 
 ministers served the rest of the tables. On 
 Monday morning I preached again to near as 
 many ; such a universal stir I never saw before. 
 The emotion fled as swift as lightning from one 
 end of the auditory to the other. You might 
 have seen thousands bathed in tears, some at 
 the same time wringing their hands, others al¬ 
 most swooning, and others crying out and moan¬ 
 ing over a pierced Saviour.” The cool-headed 
 Scotch divines, unaccustomed to such scenes, 
 wrote a pamphlet to prove they were diabolical, 
 and a day of fasting was actually appointed for 
 his being in Scotland. Such powers of dis¬ 
 course were, perhaps, never before witnessed. 
 An ignorant man once characterized his elo¬ 
 quence aptly, when he said, “ Mr. Whitefield 
 preached like a lion.” 
 
 It was, I repeat, this prevalence of mighty 
 feelings, the result of divine grace and natural 
 sensibility, that chiefly constituted his eloquence. 
 He felt, and the speaker who feels will make 
 his hearers feel, whatever may be his other 
 deficiencies. 
 
 Secondly, he had not only the soul of elo- 
 2 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 125 
 
 quence, but also the art. Elocution is not elo¬ 
 quence. A speaker may be eloquent without 
 it; he may have it in perfection, and not be 
 eloquent. But Whitefield, while possessing 
 the moral and intellectual elements of the ora¬ 
 tor, neglected not the practical principles of the 
 art. It is said that he studied and privately 
 practiced the precise rules of public speaking. 
 His gestures are said to have been remarkably 
 appropriate; those who heard him often, say 
 that each repetition of the same sermon showed 
 a studied improvement, and that several repeti¬ 
 tions were necessary to perfect its effect. His 
 voice was laboriously cultivated, and became 
 astonishingly effective. Garrick, who delighted 
 to hear him, said that he could make his audience 
 weep or tremble merely by varying his pronun¬ 
 ciation of the word Mesopotamia. 
 
 In the third place, his style, both of language 
 and address, was natural—it perfectly comport¬ 
 ed with his strong natural feeling. Though he 
 studied the art of eloquence, he was not artificial 
 The ornate, the florid style, so commonly re¬ 
 ceived in our day as eloquence, was utterly 
 absent in Whitefield. No one, studying his 
 genius, can conceive, for a moment, that it was 
 possible for him to use it. He was too much 
 in earnest, too intent on the object before him 
 
 2 
 
126 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 His language is always simple and colloquial, 
 not fitted for books, but, therefore, the better 
 fitted for speech, abounding in abrupt transi¬ 
 tions, and strongly idiomatic—such language as 
 a sincere man would use in earnestly entreat¬ 
 ing his neighbor to escape some impending 
 harm. Though he did not like his reported 
 sermons, they are evidently fac-similes of his 
 style—direct, abrupt, full of local allusion, and 
 presenting scarcely a single ornamented pas¬ 
 sage—the very speech of the common people. 
 It would appear homely, even meager, did not 
 the reader supply, in his imagination, the con¬ 
 versational manner, the tears, and the entreat¬ 
 ing voice of the speaker. Here is an example, 
 taken at random :— 
 
 “ But, say you, all in good time ; I do not 
 choose to be converted yet. Why, what age 
 are you now ? I will come down to a pretty 
 moderate age : suppose you are fourteen ; and 
 you do not think it time to be converted ? and 
 yet there are a great many here, I dare say, 
 twenty years old, and not converted. Some 
 are of opinion, that most people that are con¬ 
 verted, are so before thirty. There was a 
 young man buried last night at Tottenham 
 Court but seventeen, an early monument of 
 
 free grace ! Are you forty, or fifty ? Is not 
 2 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 127 
 
 that time ? Is it time for the poor prisoners to 
 be converted that are to be hanged to-morrow 
 morning ? If it is time for them, it is time for 
 you, for you may be dead before them. There 
 was a poor woman, but two or three days ago, 
 that was damning and cursing most shockingly; 
 now she is a dead corpse ; was taken suddenly, 
 and died away. God grant that may not be the 
 case with any of you ; the only way to prevent 
 it is, to be enabled to think that now is an ac¬ 
 cepted time , that now is the day of salvation. 
 Let me look round, and what do you suppose I 
 was thinking ? Why, that it is a mercy we have 
 not been in hell a thousand times. How many 
 are there in hell that used to say, Lord, convert 
 me, but not now ? One of the good old Puri¬ 
 tans says, hell is paved with good intentions. 
 Now can you blame me, can you blame the 
 ministers of Christ, if this is the case ? Can 
 you blame us for calling after you, for spending 
 and being spent for your souls ? It is easy for 
 you to come to hear the gospel, but you do not 
 know what nights and days we have ; what 
 pangs in our hearts, and how we travail in birth 
 till Jesus Christ be formed in your souls. Men. 
 brethren, and fathers, hearken, God help you, 
 save, save, save yourselves from an untoward- 
 generation. To-night somebody sits up with 
 
 2 
 
128 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 the prisoners; if they find any of them asleep, 01 
 no sign of their being awake, they knock and call, 
 and the keepers cry, Awake ! and I have heard 
 that the present ordinary sits up with them all 
 the night before their execution ; therefore, 
 don’t be angry with me if I knock at your 
 doors, and cry, Poor sinners, awake ! awake ! 
 and God help thee to take care thou dost not 
 sleep in an unconverted state to-night. The 
 court is just sitting, the executioner stands 
 ready, and before to-morrow, long before to¬ 
 morrow, Jesus may say of some of you, Bind, 
 him hand and foot. The prisoners to-morrow 
 will have their hands tied behind them, their 
 thumb-strings must be put on, and their fetters 
 knocked off; they must be tied fast to the cart, 
 the cap put over their faces, and the dreadful 
 signal given : if you were their relations would 
 not you weep ? don’t be angry, then, with a 
 poor minister for weeping over them that will 
 not weep for themselves. If you laugh at me, I 
 know Jesus smiles. I cannot force a cry when 
 I will; the Lord Jesus Christ be praised, I am 
 free from the blood of you all: if you are damned 
 for want of conversion, remember you are not 
 damned for want of warning. Thousands that 
 have not the gospel preached to them, may say, 
 
 Lord, we never heard what conversion is ; but 
 2 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 129 
 
 you are gospel-proof; and if there is any deeper 
 place in hell than other, God will order a gospel- 
 despising Methodist to be put there. You will 
 have dreadful torments; to whom much is given, 
 much will be required. How dreadful to have 
 minister after minister, preacher after preacher, 
 say, Lord God , I preached, but they would not 
 hear ! Think of this, professors, and God make 
 you possessors !” 
 
 Such a mode of address, fraught with the 
 emotions of Whitefield, could not but interest a 
 popular audience. How does it contrast with 
 the polished phrases and formal mannerism of 
 the pulpit generally! Who could go to sleep 
 addressed in this direct style ? Who could 
 divert his attention from the subject to think of 
 the speaker ? I do not say that a more refined 
 style is not appropriate to the pulpit; but, let 
 its refinement be what it may, it should have 
 these characteristics of simplicity, point, and 
 colloquial directness. This is the style of true 
 eloquence ; ornament pertains to imagination, 
 and imagination belongs to poetry; but poetry 
 and oratory are distinct. Genuine oratory is too 
 earnest to admit of much ornament. Its figures 
 are few, and always brief. Its language is the 
 language of the passions, not of the fancy, and 
 the passions never utter themselves in embel- 
 
 Vol. II.— 9 
 
130 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 lished phrases, but always directly, pungently 
 The great mistake of modern oratory, especially 
 in the pulpit, is, that we have confounded it 
 with poetry. 
 
 THE CHRISTIAN USE OF MONEY, WITH EX¬ 
 AMPLES. 
 
 “Ye cannot serve God and mammon .”—Christ. 
 
 We plan incessantly for the pecuniary inte¬ 
 rests of religion, and yet how little comparatively 
 is done ! Where is the fault ? Doubtless sys¬ 
 tems and agents are requisite ; but the great 
 difficulty to be surmounted is, after all, that 
 stern and common-place one, the selfishness of 
 the human heart. Hence the ever-reiterated 
 assaults of the Scriptures on “ covetousness, 
 which is idolatry ” I wish to record a word on 
 the subject, and would to God it might be a 
 forcible one. 
 
 The proper use of money by Christian men 
 is a question without any definite shape to 
 most minds. Wesley’s sermon on it is seldom 
 read among us, and everywhere apparently dis¬ 
 regarded. Now and then a remarkably pure 
 
 minded Christian, like Cobb, Goodell, &c. 
 
 2 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 131 
 
 catches the true idea of the New Testament 
 respecting it; but, alas! how few feel that 
 they are “ bought with a price, and are not 
 their own!” Many of the Christian poor do 
 feel this sentiment, and live in accordance with 
 it, for their temptations to feel otherwise are 
 not strong; but such is the perverting influence 
 of prosperity that its exemplification among the 
 rich is an anomaly neither demanded nor ex¬ 
 pected by the church. And yet, Christian 
 reader, those rigorous sentences of the New 
 Testament on the use and dangers of money 
 are stern and abiding truths. Heaven and 
 earth may pass away, but one jot or one tittle 
 will not pass from them. They may be forgot¬ 
 ten, or depreciated, as insignificant common¬ 
 places now ; but they will flame out on the 
 books of final judgment, and you will stand or 
 fall by them for ever. Every accumulating 
 dollar is with you either an instrument of good 
 or a sinking weight. Are you, then, prosper¬ 
 ing, are you laying up treasure upon earth— 
 you, the redeemed child of Him who had not 
 where to lay his head, and who, though he 
 was rich, yet for your sake became poor ? 
 Pause, then, and examine your stewardship. 
 Perhaps you are old and descending to your 
 grave, and yet, through years of accumulation, 
 
 2 
 
132 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 have not once examined this point, or estimated 
 how much could be spared from your just wants 
 for the cause of God. Would to God that this 
 word of warning could arrest you a moment and 
 direct your thoughts intently on the question. 
 A thousand paltry suggestions are now doubtless 
 trying to divert you from it; but O ! permit them 
 not; think, think this once on the subject, and 
 remember, while thinking, that, on your right 
 and on your left, before you and behind you, 
 millions are sinking into eternal death—millions 
 whom your Lord redeemed by the blood and 
 agony through which you have hope ! 
 
 Do you ask, What would you have me do ? 
 I answer, Be more definite in your contribu¬ 
 tions to the cause of God. Investigate tho¬ 
 roughly your affairs, and ascertain how much 
 is requisite as the capital of your business 
 when prudently conducted, and there, in the 
 fear of God, fix an inexorable limit to it—from 
 its annual income deduct what is requisite for 
 your temperate livelihood and the education of 
 your children, consecrate the rest to God, and 
 at death leave a suitable part of the capital to 
 your children, to be used in a like manner for 
 their subsistence and the good of the world. 
 What! must I do so if it is several thousands 
 
 a year? Yes, if it is several hundred thou- 
 2 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 133 
 
 sands. Shrink not at this. A worldling, with¬ 
 out the love of man and the hope of heaven, 
 may shrink; but you are an “ heir of glory — 
 
 “Yonder’s your house and portion fair, 
 
 Your treasure and your heart are there, 
 
 And your abiding home 
 
 and in your pilgrimage thither you linger here 
 only to procure and use the means of salvation 
 for others. Alas ! how have you utterly forgot¬ 
 ten the use of these means, and hoarded them 
 while the world has been perishing! The 
 blood of souls may stain your hands, Christian 
 brother; haste and wash it away. Would you 
 retain your treasures for the happiness they 
 may procure ? O heed me ! I can tell you of 
 happiness, the purest in this world, which may 
 be purchased by them —it is the happiness of 
 knowing that they are all consecrated to God. 
 This consciousness will sweeten your days and 
 irradiate your nights. Are you old ? it will re¬ 
 store the gladness of your youth : are you sink¬ 
 ing with declining health? it will accompany 
 you, like an angel of bliss, into the grave: are 
 you young? it will shed sunlight over your 
 coming years. 
 
 Names have been referred to which are ex¬ 
 amples of the course here recommended. In a 
 
 2 
 
134 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 late publication a writer mentions a case not the 
 less noble for being humble. He says:— 
 
 “ Meeting with a pious young mechanic, who 
 had lately read the ‘ Memoir of Normand Smith,’ 
 he spoke to this effect:—‘ Several years I have 
 given about one-fourth of the profits of my call¬ 
 ing to charitable purposes, and have merely 
 saved enough to keep my little family above 
 want, should I be called away by death ; and 
 so soon as I reach that point, instead of giving 
 one-fourth, I will give all my profits, and thus 
 follow Normand Smith as he followed Christ; 
 for I fully accord with the sentiment expressed 
 in his Memoir.’” 
 
 This is an example for the mechanic and the 
 poor. The passage in Mr. Smith’s Memoir 
 referred to is so pertinent that I cannot forbear 
 quoting it:— 
 
 “ In regard to pursuing business with the 
 view of getting property to be used for the 
 Lord, a volume ought to be written on this sub¬ 
 ject. Christian men of business do by no 
 means feel its importance as they ought. At 
 a time like this, when funds are so much need¬ 
 ed to send the gospel through the world, I see 
 not why young men of enterprise and piety may 
 not and ought not to devote themselves to busi¬ 
 ness for the sole purpose of accumulating means 
 2 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 135 
 
 £o carry forward the benevolent operations of 
 the day. There are some who now act on this 
 principle. The number ought to be greatly in¬ 
 creased. There ought to be missionary trades¬ 
 men and merchants just as much as missionary 
 schoolmasters and preachers—men prosecuting 
 business for the great purpose of getting to give 
 into the treasury of the Lord. Nor can there 
 be a doubt that all who should act on this prin¬ 
 ciple would lay up, both for themselves and 
 their families, not only a good , but the best , 
 foundation for a time of need. It has been 
 thought by some that Mr. Smith went be¬ 
 yond the demands of Christian duty in giving 
 so large a portion of his property to benevo¬ 
 lent purposes. Of this he was certainly the 
 rightful judge. Having made what he deem¬ 
 ed a competent provision for his wife and chil¬ 
 dren, he felt that what remained was the 
 Lord’s, and to him he gave it: and though the 
 selfish may wonder, and the wealthy deem it 
 injudicious, the unrolled records of eternity, 1 
 cannot doubt, will show that he acted with the 
 soundest Christian discretion—that he did what 
 was best for his family, as well as what was 
 right and pleasing to his divine Lord. His fa¬ 
 therless children have a better portion than of 
 
 silver and gold, and their prospects of happi 
 
 2 
 
136 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 ness, liere and hereafter, are far greater than if 
 they had been left heirs, each, to an estate of 
 tens of thousands.” 
 
 We have a striking example also in the his¬ 
 tory of Solomon Goodell, of Vermont. He was 
 truly one of God’s noblemen, and is no hyper¬ 
 bolical model for all Christian men of business. 
 Jeremiah Evarts, himself one of the excellent 
 of the earth, has recorded some facts in his his¬ 
 tory which I condense. 
 
 His property could not, at any time, have 
 been sold for five thousand dollars, but he pur¬ 
 sued a course of charity, as a business of life , 
 with a laborious self-denial, and an enlarged 
 Catholicism, which unitedly formed a character 
 of Christian heroism, as rare as it is honorable. 
 
 About the year 1800 Mr. Evarts observed a 
 donation of one hundred dollars to the Connecti¬ 
 cut Missionary Society, published in the annual 
 accounts as from Mr. Goodell. Such donations 
 were, at that time, very uncommon in this coun¬ 
 try, and in regard to that society nearly or quite 
 unprecedented. The thought occurred, that, 
 doubtless, some gentleman of independent for¬ 
 tune had taken up his residence in the interioi 
 of Vermont, and that he considered the society 
 a good chanel for his beneficence. This con¬ 
 clusion was strengthened by seeing a similar 
 2 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 137 
 
 donation from the same source, at the return of 
 each successive year for a considerable period. 
 
 When the American Board of Foreign Mis¬ 
 sions began its operations, Mr. Goodell did not 
 wait for an agent to visit him, but sent a mes¬ 
 sage (or came himself) more than fifty miles, to 
 a member of the board, saying that he wished 
 to subscribe five hundred dollars for immediate 
 use, and one thousand dollars for the permanent 
 fund. He sent fifty dollars as earnest money, 
 and said he would forward the remaining four 
 hundred and fifty dollars as soon as he could 
 raise that sum; and would pay the interest an¬ 
 nually upon the one thousand dollars, till the 
 principal should be paid. This engagement he 
 punctually complied with, paying the interest, 
 and, just before his death, transferring notes and 
 bonds secured by mortgages, which (including 
 the one thousand dollars above mentioned) 
 amounted to one thousand seven hundred and 
 eight dollars and thirty-seven cents ; that is, a 
 new donation was made of seven hundred and 
 eight dollars and thirty-seven cents, to which 
 was afterward added another bond and mortgage 
 of three hundred and fifty dollars. 
 
 Mr. Goodell had made what he thought suit¬ 
 able provision for his children, as they passed 
 through life. After consulting his wife, he left 
 
 2 
 
138 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 her such a portion of his estate as was satisfac¬ 
 tory to her, gave several small legacies, and 
 made the board his residuary legatee. 
 
 On visiting Mr. Goodell at his house, you 
 would find no gentleman with an independent 
 fortune ; but a plain man, in moderate circum¬ 
 stances, on one of the rudest spots in the neigh¬ 
 borhood of the Green Mountains, every dollar 
 of whose property was either gained by severe 
 personal labor, or saved by strict frugality, or 
 received as interest on small sums lent to his 
 neighbors. His house was comfortable ; but, 
 with the farm on which it stood, was worth only 
 between seven hundred and a thousand dol¬ 
 lars. His income was derived principally from 
 a dairy. 
 
 We have a most interesting example in the 
 case of Mr. Cobb. The following statements 
 are condensed from a sketch published by the 
 American Baptist Publication Society :— 
 
 Mr. Cobb resolved at the commencement of 
 his religious life that he would serve the Sa¬ 
 viour, with all his power, in that sphere which 
 seemed particularly assigned to him. God en¬ 
 dowed him with peculiar talents for business, so 
 that he acquired property with great rapidity; 
 and, if he had chosen to devote himself to the 
 narrow work of amassing wealth, he might per- 
 2 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 139 
 
 haps, if he had lived, have become a rival of 
 Gerard. But he had justly regarded his talent 
 for business as an instrument which he ought 
 to employ for the glory of his Saviour. He felt 
 it to be his duty to use it in earning money for 
 the cause of God, on precisely the same princi¬ 
 ple that it is the duty of the minister to devote 
 his talents for preaching to the service of the 
 Lord Jesus. He accordingly, in November, 
 1821, drew up and subscribed the following very 
 remarkable document:— 
 
 “ By the grace of God I will never be worth 
 more than fifty thousand dollars. 
 
 “ By the grace of God I will give one-fourth 
 the net profits of my business to charitable and 
 religious uses. 
 
 “ If I am ever worth twenty thousand dollars, 
 I will give one half of my net profits ; and if I 
 am ever worth thirty thousand dollars, I will 
 give three-fourths, and the whole after fifty thou¬ 
 sand dollars. So help me God, or give to a 
 more faithful steward, and set me aside.” 
 
 To this covenant he adhered with conscien¬ 
 tious fidelity. He distributed the profits of his 
 business with an increasing ratio from year to 
 year, till he had reached the point which he had 
 fixed as the limit of his property, and then he 
 
 gave to the cause of God all the money which he 
 
 2 
 
140 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 earned. At one time, finding that his property 
 had increased beyond fifty thousand dollars, he 
 at once devoted the surplus, seven thousand five 
 hundred dollars, as a foundation for a professor¬ 
 ship in the Newton Theological Institution, to 
 which he gave, during his life, at least twice 
 that sum. So scrupulous was he in his adhe¬ 
 rence to the covenant which he had made, that 
 when peculiar circumstances required him to 
 retain in his possession more than fifty thousand 
 dollars, he consulted judicious friends whether 
 he might do so consistently with the spirit of 
 his pledge, provided he always held the sur¬ 
 plus as really belonging to the cause of God. 
 Here is the secret of that wonderful liberality 
 which cheered so many hearts, and gave 
 vigor to so many institutions and plans of be¬ 
 nevolence. It sprung from steady religious 
 principles: it was the fruit of the Holy Spirit. 
 He always felt that God had bestowed on him 
 a rich blessing, in enabling him to serve his 
 cause. On his death bed he said to a friend, 
 in allusion to the resolutions quoted above, “ By 
 the grace of God —nothing else —by the grace 
 of God, I have been enabled, under the influ¬ 
 ence of those resolutions, to give away more 
 than forty thousand dollars. How good the 
 Lord has been to me l” 
 
 2 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 141 
 
 But Mr. Cobb did not wait till he had acquired 
 fifty thousand dollars, before he began to devote 
 his money to religious uses. While he was 
 yet young, and comparatively a poor man, re¬ 
 cently established in business, he resolved to 
 give one-fourth of the net proceeds of his busi¬ 
 ness to benevolent purposes. It was then un¬ 
 certain what would be his success ; but he felt 
 it to be his duty to begin then, with the reso¬ 
 lution to increase the proportion if God should 
 prosper him. Some Christians say they must 
 first make provision for themselves and their 
 families, and then they will distribute their mo¬ 
 ney liberally. Mr. Cobb did not act thus. He, 
 from the beginning, gave a large proportion of 
 his income, and trusted in God that whatever 
 should be necessary for himself and his family 
 would be supplied. 
 
 I have spoken emphatically on this subject, 
 but not too strongly, for here is the root of the 
 whole matter. We have no definite principles 
 of duty in our charities; some give liberally, 
 but it is casually. Before the church will be 
 fitted for its great mission, its business men 
 must be brought to consider their business re¬ 
 lations to God as strictly as they do those which 
 regard men, their accounts must be daily cast 
 
 up with reference to the judgment day, and her 
 
 2 
 
142 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 youth must be trained to the above principles. 
 I know not how to dismiss the subject. There 
 are some reading these lines to whom they are 
 applicable ; happy, thrice happy, would the 
 writer be if he knew what argument to adduce, 
 what words to use, by which to impress indeli¬ 
 bly their minds. Again, Christian brother, you 
 are entreated not to evade this appeal. It is 
 made to you—made in the name of your Re¬ 
 deemer and your perishing race. If it has 
 never been made to you before, it is now made, 
 however feebly. If you drop this volume and 
 go into the world resuming your usual indiffer 
 ence, remember, O remember, that your forget¬ 
 fulness cannot destroy the inexorable obliga¬ 
 tions of duty, and that the impressions of this 
 hour, though forgotten, will revive when the 
 dead awake. 
 
 2 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 143 
 
 BISHOP ROBERTS. 
 
 “ The voice of one crying in the wilderness." —Matthew. 
 
 I have received this evening the melancholy 
 intelligence of Bishop Roberts’ death. Many a 
 labor-worn veteran of the itinerancy will weep 
 as the sorrowful news spreads; for he was be¬ 
 loved among us as an old commander is among 
 the troops whom he has led to battle and vic¬ 
 tory. 
 
 A score of reminiscences of the sainted old 
 man revive in my memory: his dignified bear¬ 
 ing, his white locks, his noble brow, his mild 
 blue eye—the most benignant I ever saw—his 
 tranquil temper, which I never saw ruffled, his 
 extreme modesty, his exquisite delicacy of 
 feeling so singularly combined with the hardy 
 bon hommie of the backwoodsman ; and, above 
 all, the unction of his piety. Ah, he was a 
 man to be loved while living and to be remem¬ 
 bered pathetically when dead—the St. John of 
 our apostleship! 
 
 Bishop Roberts had no one trait which, by 
 extraordinary prominence, gave him unique¬ 
 ness, or what is usually called greatness. The 
 distinction and beauty of his character was its 
 equability. I doubt if he ever felt a quarter 
 
 2 
 
144 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 of an hour’s irritation since the day of his con¬ 
 version. A symmetrical mind is truly great, 
 though seldom so appreciated ; it is at once rare 
 and capable. It is what is most requisite, next 
 to holiness, for the high office which the bishop 
 sustained in the church, and his election to it 
 was owing in a great measure to the estimation 
 in which his judicious constituents held this 
 qualification. It was perceived and valued in 
 him by the older preachers, and especially by 
 Asbury, at his first appearance among them, at 
 the Baltimore General Conference of 1808. 
 He had traveled to Baltimore, from the then 
 western wilds, with bread and provender in his 
 saddle-bags, and but one dollar in his pocket. 
 He appeared before them in rude guise and un¬ 
 pretending humility, but was immediately appre¬ 
 ciated by the preachers and people, and was 
 soon after transferred by the sagacious Asbury 
 to that city. In a few years he was appointed 
 to Philadelphia; from the city station he was 
 raised to the presiding eldership of the district; 
 and it was in that city, while presiding in the 
 annual conference, in the absence of a bishop, 
 that his equanimity, his calm and discriminating 
 judgment, and other corresponding qualifica¬ 
 tions, suggested his nomination to the episco¬ 
 pacy. The next month he was elected bishop, 
 2 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 145 
 
 at Baltimore. I have always looked upon his 
 election as providential. The great, field of 
 Methodism was to be the west. It was then 
 rapidly opening ; and Roberts was the man for 
 the west. He was a child of the wilderness ; 
 he had been educated to its hardy habits ; his 
 rugged frame and characteristic qualities, all 
 designated him as a great evangelist for the 
 great west. Though born in Maryland, he was 
 removed in early childhood to a wilderness part 
 of Pennsylvania, then on the border of civiliza¬ 
 tion. Here he spent his youth in the labors of 
 the “ settler.” When the region began to be 
 extensively settled, he pushed forward with a 
 few brave pioneers into Chenango, at that time 
 public land offered as a bonus to emigrants. 
 There he built his log cabin, and dwelt com¬ 
 paratively out of sight of civilized man, tilling 
 the earth in summer, and hunting the bear, the 
 deer, and the racoon, in winter. He became 
 one of the most expert huntsmen of his day, 
 and, in after life, often surprised veteran marks¬ 
 men, on the far frontier, by the deadly certainty 
 of his fire. The entire winter has he spent at 
 his solitary log cabin, twenty miles away from 
 any human habitation, and cheered only by the 
 faithful company of his favorite sister, who pre¬ 
 pared his repasts of wild meat. 
 
 Vol. II.—10 
 
146 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS, 
 
 The refinements of the Atlantic cities could 
 not repress the ruling passion of his youth—it 
 followed him through life, and was strong even 
 in death—he lived a circuit preacher as he had 
 a “ settler,” and a bishop as he had a circuit 
 preacher, in a log cabin ; and died in a log cabin. 
 No sooner had he been elected a bishop than he 
 fixed his episcopal residence in the old cabin at 
 Chenango ; and his next removal was to In¬ 
 diana, then the far west, where his episcopal 
 palace was a log cabin built by his own hands, 
 and his furniture rude fabrications from the 
 forest wood, made with such tools as he had 
 carried in his emigrant wagon. I have been au¬ 
 thentically informed, that the first meal of the 
 sainted bishop and his family in this new abode 
 consisted only of roasted potatoes, and that it 
 was begun and ended with hearty thanksgiving. 
 Here he lived in the true simplicity of frontier 
 life, toiling, at his leisure, in the fields. The 
 allowance for his family expenses, besides two 
 hundred per annum for quarterage, was, during 
 most of his episcopal career, from two hundred 
 to two hundred and fifty dollars per annum ; at 
 least this was the case till 1836. Such is the 
 pomp of the Methodist episcopacy ! 
 
 Simple and severe as this western life was, 
 it was legitimate to the character and position 
 2 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 147 
 
 of Roberts. He was born unto it; it comported 
 with the new field, the great wilderness diocese 
 of the Mississippi Yalley, into which he was 
 thrust. There was in it a propriety with the 
 genius of the country, with the tout ensemble of 
 thr circumstances of time and place. Such 
 was the life for such a field ; and Roberts was 
 the man for both such a field and such a life. 
 Let us learn to follow providence in all things ; 
 there is always a beautiful compatibility be¬ 
 tween its ends and its agents. The history of 
 our church is full of such examples. 
 
 This congeniality of the bishop’s character 
 with western life attracted about him the strong 
 affections of the western preachers. They felt 
 that he was legitimately one among them. In 
 his latter years they venerated and loved him 
 as the patriarch of the wilderness. His visit to 
 the last Missouri Conference, as described in 
 our papers at the time, was an example. He 
 had spent some months before in a most labori¬ 
 ous visitation among the Indian missions beyond 
 Arkansas and Missouri. His health was evi¬ 
 dently undermined by years and toils ; and the 
 time of his departure was at hand. The preach¬ 
 ers looked upon him as peculiarly their own 
 bishop—their father ; and, while trembling with 
 
 infirmities he addressed them, at the reading of 
 
 2 
 
148 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 the appointments, in the crowded court-house 
 of Jefferson city : they wept aloud, invoking, in 
 audible ejaculations, blessings on the old evan¬ 
 gelist. He had presided at their first conference, 
 more than a quarter of a century before, when it 
 included nearly a third of the great Mississippi 
 Valley, and had attended more than half its ses* 
 sions since : but three or four of its original 
 members remained : he made thrilling allusions 
 to the old preachers who had gone up to their 
 reward ; and gave much information respecting 
 the progress of their work. As he alluded to 
 his own health, and the little prospect of ever 
 meeting them again in this world, his voice 
 faltered, he paused, and they all wept together 
 like the elders of Ephesus when taking leave 
 of Paul. “ I feel,” said the bishop, “ like a 
 father leaving his children”—words that went 
 to the hearts of all present, and called forth 
 tears and irrepressible sobs from preachers and 
 spectators. It was his final leave—in about 
 six months he ascended to heaven. 
 
 As usual with equable minds, Bishop Roberts 
 was cheerful and amiable. His piety was never 
 gloomy, though seldom ecstatic. You felt at the 
 first introduction that he must be one of the most 
 agreeable companions; that he could calmly 
 endure afflictions, and compassionately forgive 
 2 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 149 
 
 offenses ; that he was fitted for domestic life 
 and permanent friendships. 
 
 As is natural with such a disposition, he was 
 generous and liberal. I have heard of numerous 
 examples of his benevolence from the best au¬ 
 thority. Those who knew well his private 
 affairs have estimated that his pecuniary con¬ 
 tributions, during his ministerial life, amounted 
 to more than all his receipts from the church for 
 domestic expenses. He was especially liberal 
 to our literary institutions. He prized learning 
 from a sense of his own deficiency in it, having 
 had but about three months’ instruction after his 
 seventh year. To four of our colleges he gave, 
 at intervals, one hundred dollars each. In 1826, 
 when in New-Orleans, he found the brethren 
 attempting, with few resources, to erect a cheap 
 church ; he sold his horse, and, giving them all 
 it brought—a hundred dollars—made his way 
 with many difficulties to Nashville, where his 
 friends provided him with a horse and funds 
 with which to finish his journey. While at 
 home, in the periods between his episcopal 
 visitations, he labored hard in the fields, that 
 he might have the means of indulging this noble 
 propensity of his generous mind. He was as 
 whole-hearted in his labors. According to his 
 
 routes, the last year he lived, he must have 
 
 2 
 
150 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 traveled between five and six thousand miles, 
 visiting some half dozen states and nearly an 
 equal number of Indian nations. 
 
 As a preacher he was always interesting, and 
 frequently eloquent. His passions never had 
 undue play in the pulpit. A thoroughly sys¬ 
 tematic arrangement of his subject, readiness 
 of thought, fluent, and generally correct diction, 
 and a facile yet dignified manner, were his cha¬ 
 racteristics in the desk. His large person— 
 corpulent, and nearly six feet in height—his 
 strongly-marked features—elevated forehead— 
 and manners of extreme simplicity and cor¬ 
 diality, gave to his presence always the air of 
 a superior man—one to be remembered and 
 loved. 
 
 It is certainly no small tribute to his charac¬ 
 ter to say that its greatest apparent defect was 
 the excess of a very amiable quality—he was 
 constitutionally modest. In his earlier life this 
 disposition rendered him painfully diffident, 
 and throughout his career it deterred him from 
 many bold and energetic measures, which his 
 position and abilities justified, and which might 
 have been of wide influence on the church. 
 He often referred facetiously to instances of 
 his early diffidence. For a long time after his 
 
 appointment as class-leader, among his rustic 
 2 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 151 
 
 neighbors, be could not assume courage enough 
 to address them individually, and be bad ac¬ 
 tually to be superseded by another leader till 
 be conquered this timidity. In his first attempt 
 at public exhortation, he suddenly sat down 
 appalled at the intent look of a good man whose 
 favorable interest he took for disapprobation. 
 At another time, when he was expected to ex¬ 
 hort, he was so alarmed as to retire in agony 
 and conceal himself in a barn. In the third 
 attempt he proceeded some time with good 
 effect, but, fearing he had made a blunder, 
 stopped short in confusion. 
 
 In after years this extreme diffidence became 
 a subdued modesty, not interfering with his or¬ 
 dinary duties, but deterring him from most novel 
 or experimental plans, however hopeful, and 
 leading often to ludicrous mistakes among those 
 who did not know him. When stopping in his 
 travels among strangers, he usually assumed no 
 other pretensions than those of a private Chris¬ 
 tian ; and frequently it was not till the family 
 worship declared his spirit and talents that his 
 ministerial character was supposed. Under 
 such circumstances he has sometimes attended 
 class-meeting with his host, and received warm 
 and pointed exhortations from zealous class- 
 
 leaders. On returning to the west, after a 
 
 2 
 
152 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 General Conference, he once applied at the 
 house of a Methodist family to which he had 
 been recommended for entertainment. He was 
 as usual humble in dress, and dusty and weary. 
 The family, taking him to be a rustic traveler, 
 permitted him to put up and feed his horse, and 
 take his seat in the sitting-room. Supper was 
 over, and no one took the trouble to inquire 
 if he had taken any on the way. The preacher 
 of the circuit was stopping at the same house— 
 he was young, frivolous, and foppish—and spent 
 the evening in gay conversation with the daugh¬ 
 ters of the family, alluding occasionally and 
 contemptuously to the “ old man,” who sat 
 silently in a corner. The good bishop, after 
 sitting a long time, with no other attention than 
 these allusions, respectfully requested to be 
 shown to bed. The chamber was over the 
 sitting-room, and, while upon his knees praying 
 with paternal feeling for the faithless young 
 preacher, he still heard the gay jest and rude 
 laugh. At last the family retired without domes¬ 
 tic worship. The young preacher slept in the 
 same room with the bishop. He laid down 
 without prayer. 
 
 “ Well, old man,” said he, as he got into bed, 
 i{ are you asleep yet ?” 
 
 “ I am not, sir,” replied the bishop. 
 
 2 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 153 
 
 “ Where have you come from ?” 
 
 “ From east of the mountains.” 
 
 “From east of the mountains, aye—wha 
 place ?” 
 
 “ Baltimore, sir.” 
 
 “ Baltimore, aye—the seat of our General 
 Conference—did you hear anything about it ? 
 We expect Bishop Roberts to stop here on his 
 way home.” 
 
 “Yes, sir,” replied the bishop, humbly, “it 
 ended before I left.” 
 
 “ Did you ever see Bishop Roberts ?” 
 
 “Yes, sir, often; we left Baltimore toge¬ 
 ther.” 
 
 “ You left Baltimore together ?” 
 
 “ Yes, sir.” 
 
 “ What’s your name, my old friend ?” 
 
 “ Roberts, sir.” 
 
 “ Roberts ! Roberts ! Excuse me, sir, are 
 you related to the bishop ?” 
 
 “ They usually call me Bishop Roberts, 
 sir.” 
 
 “ Bishop Roberts ! Bishop Roberts ! are you 
 Bishop Roberts, sir?” said the young man, leap¬ 
 ing out of bed, and trembling with agitation. 
 
 Embarrassed and confounded, he implored the 
 good man’s pardon, insisted upon calling up the 
 
 family, and seemed willing to do anything to 
 
 2 
 
154 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 redeem himself. The bishop gave him an 
 affectionate admonition, which he promised with 
 tears never to forget; acknowledging, at the 
 same time, that he had backslidden in heart, and 
 deeply lamenting his folly and his spiritual de¬ 
 clension. The venerable and compassionate 
 man knew the frivolity of youth ; he gave hirn 
 much paternal advice, and prayed with him. 
 He would not allow the family to be called, 
 though he had eaten nothing since breakfast. 
 The next morning, after praying again with the 
 spirit-broken young preacher, he left before the 
 family had risen, that he might save them a 
 mortifying explanation. 
 
 The circumstance was a salutary lesson to 
 the young itinerant; at the next session of the 
 
 - Conference, he called upon the bishop a 
 
 renewed man ; he wept again as he acknow¬ 
 ledged his error, and has since become a useful 
 and eminent minister. Bishop Roberts often 
 alluded to the incident, but, through a commend¬ 
 able kindness, would never tell the name of the 
 young preacher.* Other and similarly ludi¬ 
 crous rencounters might be mentioned. 
 
 * This fact has been extensively circulated, with 
 some exaggeration, and with Bishop George substituted 
 for Bishop Roberts. Bishop Roberts was its real 
 subject. 
 
 2 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS 
 
 155 
 
 Peace to the memory of the good, the kind 
 hearted old man ! His image is embalmed in the 
 affections of many a heart, and will there be 
 enshrined faithfully through future years of pil¬ 
 grimage and change. He has passed to the 
 society of his old co-laborers. May we who 
 love his memory join him there ! 
 
 2 
 
156 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 HERETICAL TENDENCIES OF METHODISM AND 
 
 CALVINISM. 
 
 “ I will also show mine opinion.” —Job’s friend. 
 
 I have just been reading in a Calvinistic. 
 paper a singular charge against Methodism. It 
 alledges, in substance, that Methodism tends 
 to laxity in religion ; that “ affecting proof” of 
 this tendency is seen in the numerous additions 
 made to Universalist churches from among 
 Methodists, and that as Arminianism once led 
 the New-England. churches to Unitarianism, so 
 it is now, in connection with Methodism, lead¬ 
 ing to Universalism. 
 
 Now it may be confidently asserted that there 
 is neither fact nor logic to sustain this novel 
 charge. The history of Methodism is altoge¬ 
 ther against it. I do not doubt that there have 
 been individual cases of apostasy from Method¬ 
 ism to Universalism; but they are not charac¬ 
 teristic of the body ; they are not more frequent 
 among Methodists than among most other evan¬ 
 gelical sects. I believe I have some acquaint¬ 
 ance with Methodism, but am unable now to 
 recall one instance. Such there may have 
 been, and, perhaps, in some few places in con¬ 
 siderable numbers, so as to form the nuclei of 
 2 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 157 
 
 Universalist societies ; but I have never heard 
 of them. I know not a single Methodist chapel 
 perverted to the use of Universalists. But, is it 
 not a well-known fact, that such apostasies from 
 Calvinism have been frequent; and that not a 
 few Calvinistic houses are now in the hands of 
 the Universalists ? For every one derived from 
 the Methodists, five can be referred to which 
 were once Calvinistic, especially in New-Eng- 
 land, where Universalism succeeds best: there 
 the facts are known and read of all men. 
 
 Nor is there logic in this charge. It would 
 seem that our Calvinistic brethren cannot dis¬ 
 sociate the idea of religious laxity from Me¬ 
 thodism. It arises from their confounding 
 Methodism with European Arminianism. The 
 latter is not Methodism. It has no sympathy 
 with the Pelagian Arminianism of continental 
 Europe. Its Arminianism consists in its denial 
 of pre-reprobation and a limited atonement. 
 But what, in the name of all logic, is there in 
 this that tends to religious laxity ? Is it neces¬ 
 sary, for the purity of Christians, that they be¬ 
 lieve God has irretrievably, and from eternity, 
 cast off most of the human race ? There is a 
 rigorous bigotry, sometimes taken for piety, 
 which may be produced by such a sentiment— 
 but never genuine piety. Methodism teaches 
 
 2 
 
158 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 the possibility of “ falling from grace,” and the 
 necessity of “ working out our salvation with 
 fear and trembling.” Does this savor of laxity ? 
 Calvinism teaches the final certainty of the sal¬ 
 vation of the elect. Does this tend to spiritual 
 strictness ? Methodism has now been in ope¬ 
 ration more than a century. Where has one of 
 its churches lapsed into Unitarianism ? But 
 have not nearly all the Unitarian churches of 
 England and the north of Ireland sprung from 
 Calvinistic Presbyterians ; and, in New-Eng- 
 land, from Calvinistic Congregationalists ? And 
 how is it on the continent of Europe ? The 
 strong-holds of Calvinism have nearly all be¬ 
 come the intrenchments of Socinianism and 
 Rationalism. In Geneva, the scene of Calvin’s 
 labors, there was not, in 1812 , a single evan¬ 
 gelical preacher. The pulpit in which he 
 preached the “ horribile decretum,” as he calls 
 it, is now occupied by a Socinian ; and the theo¬ 
 logical school, where he lectured, is now used 
 for the preparation of Deistical clergymen. The 
 few Evangelists who have lately arisen in that 
 city have revived the old dogmas ; they will 
 find them the chief obstructions to their suc¬ 
 cess. Now what has caused these changes ? 
 The people of Nevv-England know from local 
 
 observation. It was the repulsive, the intolerable 
 2 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 159 
 
 character of the old theology—not its experi¬ 
 mental nor its practical, but its speculative cha¬ 
 racter. The best sentiments of human nature 
 revolted at its ideas of the divine government; 
 and men in flying from one extreme passed to 
 the other; in escaping from the desolate rocks 
 of Scylla they plunged into the vortex of Charyb- 
 dis. Arminianism is the safe position between 
 the two extremes. In their transition they could 
 not but cross it; and hence Arminianism has 
 been charged with the responsibility of their errors. 
 Arminianism is no more responsible for them 
 than Calvinism is for the errors of the Moham¬ 
 medans, who believe with Calvin in predesti¬ 
 nation. 
 
 The following three statements are not un¬ 
 worthy a little attention :— 
 
 1. Arminianism has almost always been com¬ 
 bined with serious errors among those who have 
 been repelled from Calvinism. But, 
 
 2. There is no one doctrine in Arminianism 
 as preached by Methodists, which has a natural 
 tendency to laxity in religion. It has less of 
 this liability than Calvinism, logically compared, 
 doctrine for doctrine. 
 
 3. During the very period that errors, con¬ 
 nected with Arminianism, have been desolating 
 
 the Presbyterian churches of old England, and 
 
 2 
 
J 60 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 the Congregational of New-England, an Armi- 
 nian organization has been growing, in these 
 very countries, into immense strength and num¬ 
 bers, spreading itself out to the ends of the 
 earth, and, in this land at least, exceeding, by 
 nearly two-thirds, the combined numbers of the 
 Congregational and Presbyterian Calvinists, 
 until it has become the largest sect in these 
 States, and with scarcely a defection of a pastor 
 or church to those heresies which have raged 
 in the former. 
 
 Which, then, is the cause of these heresies— 
 Calvinism or Arminianism ? 
 
 2 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 161 
 
 WESLEYAN ANECDOTES. 
 
 “ Marvelous things .”—Psalmist. 
 
 Yesterday I spent a most agreeable after¬ 
 noon with Rev. R. R., of the Wesleyan Con¬ 
 ference, an excellent man, intelligent, refined, 
 deeply evangelical, and sufficiently advanced in 
 years to possess, in combination with mature 
 experience and sound judgment, the mellow 
 sentiments and cheerful temper of a ripe old 
 age. He was one of the colaborers of Wesley, 
 and abounds in most entertaining anecdotes of 
 early Methodism. Now, it so happens that my 
 humor runs in this current, and Mr. R.’s seemed 
 perfectly to coalesce with it, so that the collo¬ 
 quial stream flowed rapidly and merrily. I put 
 down snatches of the conversation. 
 
 He had witnessed some of the extraordinary 
 physical effects of religious excitement which 
 occur at our camp meetings, and remarked that 
 they seldom appear now-a-days on the other 
 side of the waters. Neither of us knew how 
 to account for these anomalous circumstances 
 except on some yet undiscovered law of the 
 nervous system. They had at first puzzled 
 Mr. Wesley much; he believed them to pro¬ 
 ceed sometimes from the devil, at others froiji 
 Vol. II.—11 
 
162 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 divine influence ; but in his later years, dis¬ 
 couraged them decidedly. Mr. R. had witness¬ 
 ed these phenomena, at their first appearance, 
 at Kingswood, and described them as altogether 
 inexplicable. The stoutest men fell to the 
 earth as suddenly as if shot through the heart; 
 bold blasphemers were instantly seized with 
 agony and cried aloud for mercy, and scores 
 were sometimes strewed on the ground at once, 
 insensible as dead men. A traveler, at one 
 time, was passing by, but, on pausing a moment 
 to hear the sermon, was directly smitten to the 
 earth, and lay there apparently without life. A 
 Quaker, who was admonishing the by-standers 
 against these strange scenes, as affectation and 
 hypocrisy, was himself struck down, as by an 
 unseen hand, while the words of reproach were 
 even upon his lips. A weaver, a great disliker 
 of dissenters, fearing that the new excitement 
 would alienate his neighbors from the church, 
 went about zealously among them to prove that 
 it was the work of Satan, and would endanger 
 their souls. A new convert lent him one of 
 Wesley’s sermons; while reading it he suddenly 
 turned pale, fell to the floor, and roared so might¬ 
 ily that the people ran into the house from the 
 streets and found him sweating, weeping, and 
 screaming in anguish. * * * * 
 
 2 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 163 
 
 Mr. R. referred with much interest to many 
 of his old associates in the itinerancy. He had 
 never heard a preacher superior to Samuel 
 Bradburn. He was full of sublimity, mighty, 
 grasping thoughts, and melting pathos, and yet 
 mingled with the whole, in the strongest con¬ 
 trasts, an exhaustless wit. Dr. Coke, said Mr. 
 R., used to declare that there was but one man 
 whom he could hear preach longer than forty- 
 five minutes, and he was Samuel Bradburn. A 
 number of young preachers were speaking once 
 rather whiningly of having given up all for the 
 ministry. They put too much emphasis on their 
 sacrifices, in Bradburn’s estimation ; he wished 
 to rebuke them, and did it with his usual feli¬ 
 city. He had been a cobbler himself, as well 
 as a tinker, and most of the young men in the 
 company had been in equally humble occupa¬ 
 tions. “Yes, dear brethren,” exclaimed he, 
 “ some of you have had to sacrifice your all 
 for the itinerancy; but we old men have had 
 our share of these trials. As for myself, I 
 made a double sacrifice, for I gave up for the 
 ministry two of the best awls in the kingdom— 
 a great sacrifice truly to become an ambassa¬ 
 dor of God in the church and a gentleman in 
 society!” 
 
 * # # # # * * 
 
 2 
 
164 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 Mr. R. spoke with enthusiastic affection of 
 his old friend, Gideon Ousley, the apostle of 
 Methodism in Ireland. Ousley, said he, is one 
 of the most eccentric of men, yet full of faith 
 and the Holy Ghost. His mind is strong, and 
 he has a university education. His family be¬ 
 long to the aristocracy, yet he became a Me¬ 
 thodist itinerant, and has traveled the Irish 
 highways, preaching the gospel, for more than 
 twoscore years. He preaches everywhere— 
 at cock-fights, horse-races, fairs, and markets, 
 and hundreds of times has he proclaimed the 
 gospel on horseback. His sermons are at least 
 three a day, usually two in the open air and a 
 third in a barn or meeting-house. He preaches 
 often in the Irish language—a speech rich and 
 powerful for exhortation. Ousley has rescued 
 hundreds, perhaps thousands, of his countrymen 
 from the superstitions of Popery. He has often 
 been attacked by Popish persecutors, and lost 
 one of his eyes in a scuffle with them ; but 
 though frequently beaten and left for dead, he 
 is as bold as a lion, and scatters light among 
 them at every point. Many of his persecutors 
 have been overtaken by unnatural deaths, and 
 the Papists dread him as protected by the devil 
 When his uncle, Sir George Ousley, died, he in¬ 
 herited his wealth and title, but abandoned all, 
 2 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 165 
 
 preferring the honor of being a Methodist itine¬ 
 rant above the estates and titles of nobility. 
 Such a man is one of God’s genuine noble¬ 
 men. 
 
 # # * * T * * * 
 
 I inquired of him particularly about Charles 
 Wesley, of whom we have comparatively so 
 little information that his position in Methodist 
 history has always appeared to me vague if not 
 ambiguous.* Charles Wesley, he replied, was 
 a high-churchman : he could not appreciate the 
 mission of Methodism. Much of his own mi¬ 
 nisterial conduct was in violation of his high- 
 church opinions, for his good feelings could not 
 yield to his prejudices. Yet Methodism owes 
 much to him; he was the first of the brothers 
 converted, and the first who received the appel¬ 
 lation of Methodist. He stood by John till death, 
 though dissenting from many of his measures. 
 
 Three elements prevailed in his mental con¬ 
 stitution— music , poetry , and faith. He was all 
 soul, from head to foot; full of vivid, though 
 pensive, enthusiasm. He was an excellent 
 musician: melody was sweeter to him than 
 honey or the honey-comb; and his sons, 
 
 * Jackson’s Life of Charles Wesley has been publish¬ 
 ed since, one of the most entertaining and valuable 
 memoirs in our biographical catalogue. 
 
 2 
 
166 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 through his example, were prodigies in the art 
 from their infancy. In the poetic art, who 
 equals him among uninspired writers of the 
 sacred lyric ? He was incessantly expressing 
 himself in poetry. He has touched the lips of 
 all our hosts with live coals from off the hea¬ 
 venly altar, and will touch the lips of millions 
 to come ; but the hymns in our Hymn-book 
 can afford no idea of the extent of his poetical 
 compositions ; they would fill volumes, and they 
 uniformly possess his characteristic terseness 
 and harmony. As is usual with poetic genius, 
 he was subject to intervals of melancholy, and 
 often so profoundly dejected as to long for the 
 relief of the grave. His faith, however, kindled 
 in the enthusiasm of his spirit, and aspired above 
 his depressions. These three elements made 
 him, as a man, most affectionate and generous ; 
 as a writer, always rhythmical and inspiring, 
 and as a preacher, one of the most affecting and 
 powerful in our history. He far excelled his 
 brother in the unction and effect of his sermons. 
 At times he became almost seraphic, and melt¬ 
 ed all hearts by the pathos of his feelings and 
 tones. Such was Charles Wesley. 
 
 *.# * * * * * 
 
 He spoke eloquently of Fletcher. John 
 
 Fletcher is a name associated in my mind with 
 2 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 167 
 
 every saintly quality. He was “ the angel of 
 the church.” His temper was as felicitous as 
 it was holy; religion illuminated his life like a 
 perpetual sunshine. He was a living example 
 of the spiritual doctrines of Methodism, as well 
 as its controversial champion. Like the angel 
 at the gate of paradise, he defended it with a 
 flaming sword from the intrusion of error. He 
 seems to have been providentially raised up to 
 assist Wesley in the revival and defense of 
 the apostolic doctrines. While the latter tra¬ 
 versed the realm, publishing them, the former, 
 with a polemical acumen seldom equaled, was 
 defending them by his pen in his solitude at 
 Madeley. His writings are an impregnable 
 rampart around the theology of our church, and 
 will endure while the church endures. Wesley 
 said he was intimately acquainted with him 
 for above thirty years ; he conversed with him 
 morning, noon, and night without reserve, dur¬ 
 ing a journey of many hundred miles, and, in 
 all that time, he never heard him speak one im¬ 
 proper word, nor saw him do an improper 
 action. In all the compass of his extensive 
 acquaintance, he declared that he knew not one 
 so devoted to God. And then his death—what 
 a scene for the contemplation of angels! His 
 
 joyous spirit grew holier with the lapse of each 
 
 2 
 
168 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 day, until it burst forth with triumphant raptures, 
 and ascended, like a flame, to heaven. 
 
 * * * # * * * 
 
 Again the conversation ran off into the more 
 striking scenes of early Methodism. Mr. R 
 related several remarkable cases of conversion. 
 John Furz, one of my old associates, said he, 
 was listening to one of our preachers, who ex¬ 
 claimed, “Two witnesses, dead and buried in 
 dust, will rise up against you. These are they,” 
 holding up the Bible, “ the two Testaments 
 which have been buried in dust on your 
 shelves.” “ I recollected,” said John, “ that 
 my Bible was thus neglected, and that I had 
 actually written my name with my finger upon 
 the lid. I thought I had signed my own dam¬ 
 nation on the back of the witness.” He was 
 horror struck—went home and called upon God 
 for mercy, and lived and died a faithful preacher. 
 John Thorpe, another old friend of mine, was 
 converted in a still more singular manner. He 
 and his comrades were one day ridiculing and 
 mimicking the Methodists. They attempted to 
 preach for a wager. John’s turn came last: he 
 mounted the table full of hilarity ; but, on open¬ 
 ing the Bible at the text, “ Except ye repent 
 ye shall all likewise perish,” he was seized 
 
 with terror; his hair stood on end, and he 
 2 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 169 
 
 p 
 
 preached in earnest. At the close he ran 
 home, called upon God in genuine repentance, 
 and afterward went preaching through the land. 
 
 . I have known of a tavern-keeper, 
 who, relishing music, went to one of the meet¬ 
 ings merely to hear the singing. He was afraid 
 of the preaching, and, that he might not hear it, 
 sat with his head inclined and his fingers in his 
 ears. But a fly lit upon his nose, and, at the 
 moment he attempted to drive it away with one 
 of his hands, the preacher uttered, with power, 
 the text, “ He that hath ears to hear, let him 
 hear.” The word took hold upon his con¬ 
 science, and he found no relief till he became 
 a converted man. ... In Wexford, Ire¬ 
 land, a conversion occurred still more odd. 
 Our people were persecuted by the Papists, 
 and met in a closed barn. One of the perse¬ 
 cutors had agreed to conceal himself before¬ 
 hand in the barn that he might open the door 
 to them after the people were assembled. He 
 crept into a sack hard by the door. The singing 
 commenced; but the Hibernian was so taken 
 with it that he thought he would hear it through 
 before disturbing the meeting. At its conclu¬ 
 sion he thought he would hear the prayer also; 
 but this was too powerful for him; he was 
 
 seized with distress and trembling, and bawled 
 
 2 
 
170 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 out with such dismay as to appal the congre¬ 
 gation, who began to believe that the evil one 
 himself was in the sack. The sack was at last 
 pulled off of him, and discovered the poor Irish¬ 
 man a weeping penitent, crying for mercy. He 
 was thoroughly and permanently converted.* 
 Thus passed a cheerful interview in reminis¬ 
 cences of the great men of our Israel, and an¬ 
 ecdotes which are as marvelous instances of 
 the grace of God as they are facetious examples 
 of the ludicrous. 
 
 * These anecdotes, which, with many others of less 
 credibility, are current among the Wesleyan Method¬ 
 ists, are well authenticated in Methodist records. 
 
 2 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 171 
 
 A MEDITATIVE HABIT 
 
 “Isaac went out to meditate in the field at eventide .” 
 
 Moses. 
 
 It was one of the philosophical rules of Py¬ 
 thagoras and his disciples to review, by close 
 meditation, the events of each day. Cicero, 
 though adhering to a different sect of philoso¬ 
 phy, adopted the rule merely for its intellectual 
 advantage. He found that it invigorated his 
 memory—a faculty to which the ancients at¬ 
 tached high importance. He tells us that he 
 practiced the precept daily. The rule is infi¬ 
 nitely more applicable to Christians. Summer- 
 field was in the habit of selecting a text every 
 morning as the theme of his meditations through 
 the day—a point around which his thoughts 
 could revolve at every interval of leisure, and 
 to which he could summon them away from 
 every casual, and especially every hurtful, sug¬ 
 gestion of the senses or of the tempter. — 
 The formation of a meditative habit —who can 
 doubt its value to the Christian character ? How 
 entirely would it transform most professors of 
 religion ! What stability, and energy, and dig¬ 
 nity, would it impart to their conduct! How 
 much more profoundly would they comprehend 
 and appreciate their religion ! 
 
 2 
 
172 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 Let me not be misunderstood. I do not mean 
 merely a habit of sobriety , much less a moping, 
 ruminating reserve ; but a habit of frequent, of 
 daily meditation on the Scripture doctrines—of 
 self-inspection, and of self-comparison with 
 the Scripture standard of character—such a 
 habit as every literary man finds it necessary to 
 cultivate in respect to his intellectual improve¬ 
 ment—close and frequent application to his 
 books and his subjects—constant introspection. 
 
 Now, is not this one of the means by which 
 Christianity is adapted to raise up the mass of 
 the popular mind 1 Was Christianity designed 
 to exert only an indirect agency in the intellect¬ 
 ual elevation of man ; to furnish nutriment for 
 his heart, but not his mind ? This is as fai 
 as the Christian world, it seems, has generally 
 allowed its influence to extend ; but it is a mis¬ 
 take. Its immediate purpose is the correction 
 of the heart; but it is adapted and designed to 
 raise up, by a direct application, the intellectual 
 and the social condition of man. It is the in 
 strument for the elevation of the total condition 
 of the world. We are beginning to recognize 
 this fact, and to make direct application of re¬ 
 ligious principles to individual social evils, as 
 legalized intemperance, slavery, and war. Who 
 
 doubts that the improvement of our minds is a 
 2 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 173 
 
 moral duty of even higher obligation than the 
 care of our health ? Who doubts that the time 
 will come when this point will be so clearly 
 understood that the Christian, who unnecessa¬ 
 rily neglects his mental cultivation, will be con¬ 
 sidered criminal; more criminal than if he 
 should deliberately ruin his health by declining 
 food ? Alas ! how novel, though reasonable, 
 is such a thought at present! By intellectual 
 improvement we do not mean here the cultiva¬ 
 tion of particular faculties, or the study of par¬ 
 ticular sciences, but that general enlargement 
 and invigoration of the intellectual nature which 
 should be the object of all mental discipline. 
 Now, what we do say is, that the popular influ¬ 
 ence of religion should have this effect. Wher¬ 
 ever it is eminent it has this effect. Who has 
 not been struck by the strong good sense, the 
 tranquil energy, the mental integrity and sym¬ 
 metry, which some persons seem to attain at 
 once on receiving the blessing of sanctification ? 
 It sets them to thinking , and acting, as well as 
 feeling. Who does not see in the character 
 of the sacred oracles this adaptation of reli¬ 
 gion ? How are they adorned with every 
 attraction of intellect; how unparalleled their 
 poetry; how profound their logic ; how cha¬ 
 racteristic their biography; what substance for 
 
 2 
 
174 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 thought teems in every text! The antique 
 records stand, in this late age, confessed, by 
 friends and foes, to be unparalleled, in mere in¬ 
 tellectual traits, among all the productions of the 
 human mind. 
 
 If this is the tendency of Christianity, how 
 can each individual bring it to bear on his own 
 nature more effectually than by a meditative 
 habit ? Such a habit would promote our know¬ 
 ledge of religious truth. What an ample field 
 does the Bible afford of “ all delectable flowers 
 and fruits !” Each doctrine is a golden vein, 
 leading into the great mine of the whole. Now, 
 if we should combine with our daily Scripture 
 reading, daily meditation upon the truth we read, 
 how would it deepen our spiritual knowledge! 
 It is wonderful how ignorant most laymen are 
 of the Christian doctrines. They have vague 
 ideas of the essential ones ; but how few of 
 them can give clear statements of the nature of 
 Faith, the Witness of the Spirit, the Atonement, 
 the Trinity, &c.! It is a good thing that, in the 
 experience of all Christians, these truths are 
 indirectly involved ; but it would be better if, in 
 addition, they could be theoretically understood. 
 God has not judged them unworthy of being re¬ 
 vealed ; we should not deem them unworthy of 
 
 being studied. The habit we recommend would 
 2 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 175 
 
 make us Scriptural Christians. The hallowed 
 sentiments of the Scriptures would be more 
 familiar to our minds, and their beautiful phra¬ 
 seology more common in our speech. 
 
 It would give greater decision and fixedness 
 to the mind. By such a course we would test 
 and estimate the grounds of our faith. We 
 would be saved from the frequent misgivings 
 which attend a desultory-minded Christian. 
 Settled in our doctrines, we would be more 
 uniform in our conduct, and more unwavering 
 in our experience. We would act more from 
 principle than impulse. Our whole being, as 
 Christians, would become more vigorous and 
 determinate. And from this state would result 
 * a more regular frame of feeling. Is it not the 
 case that Christians, more than others, are sub¬ 
 ject to vicissitudes of feeling ? It is not occa¬ 
 sioned by their piety, but their weakness. How 
 many caprices of feeling and useless anxieties 
 would be prevented by enlarged views and fixed 
 principles in religion ! There is no Christian 
 minister who has not met with cases of pro¬ 
 found wretchedness occasioned by wrong views 
 of Christian doctrine ; and these views are fre¬ 
 quently too inveterate to be corrected. They 
 would have been prevented by a better know¬ 
 ledge of Scripture theology. 
 
 2 
 
176 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 THE MARINER’S PREACHER. 
 
 “ Was lost and is found .”—Christ. 
 
 During the last war lived, in an obscure sub¬ 
 urb of the city of B -, a poor but devoted 
 
 English woman, who, having lost her husband 
 soon after her emigration, depended for her 
 subsistence on the earnings of her needle. 
 Her neighbors were of the lowest class—igno¬ 
 rant and vicious. She felt, amid her poverty 
 and toils, that God might have cast her lot in 
 those unfavorable circumstances for some good 
 purpose, and began zealously to plan for the 
 religious improvement of the neighborhood. 
 Among other means, she opened her little front 
 room several times a week for a prayer meeting; 
 and procured the aid of several pious Methodists 
 in conducting it. Much of the good seed thus 
 scattered with a faith that hoped against hope, 
 and in a soil that seemed nothing but arid 
 sand, produced good fruit; but I confine myself 
 only to one instance, which, in its diversified 
 results, can be fully estimated in eternity 
 alone. 
 
 Among the attendants at the evening meeting 
 was a young sailor, with an intellectual eye, 
 a prepossessing countenance, and all the gene- 
 2 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 177 
 
 rous susceptibilities of a sailor’s heart. Amid 
 the corruptions of his associates he had been 
 noted for his temperance and excellent dispo¬ 
 sition. And yet this child of the sea had been 
 a wanderer on its waves from his earliest years. 
 He could scarcely trace the tie of a single family 
 relation on earth, and had known no other friends 
 than the ever-varying but true-hearted compan¬ 
 ionship of the forecastle. A natural superiority 
 of head and heart had, under the providence of 
 God, raised him above many of the moral perils 
 of his lot. His fine traits interested much the 
 good English woman and her pious associates, 
 and they could not see why God would not 
 make some use of him among his comrades. 
 He had received no education, but could read 
 imperfectly. She hoped that God would in some 
 way provide for his future instruction ; but in 
 the midst of her anticipations he was suddenly 
 summoned away to sea. He had been out but 
 a short time when the vessel was seized by 
 a British privateer, and carried into Halifax, 
 where the crew suffered a long and wretched 
 imprisonment. 
 
 A year had passed away, during which the 
 good woman had heard nothing of the young 
 sailor. Her hopes of him were abandoned as 
 extravagant, in view of his unsettled mode of 
 
 Vol. II. —12 
 
178 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 life, and its peculiar impediments to all im¬ 
 provement. Still she remembered and prayed 
 for him with the solicitude of a mother. About 
 this time she received a letter from her rela¬ 
 tions who had settled in Halifax, on business 
 which required her to visit that town. While 
 there, her habitual disposition to be useful led 
 her, with a few friends, to visit the prison with 
 tracts. In one apartment were the x^merican 
 prisoners. As she approached the grated door 
 a voice shouted her name, calling her mother, 
 and a youth beckoned and leaped for joy at the 
 grate : it was the lost sailor boy ! They wept 
 and conversed like mother and son ; and when 
 she left she gave him a Bible, his future guide 
 and comfort. 
 
 During her stay at Halifax she constantly 
 visited the prison, supplying the youth with 
 tracts, religious books, and clothing ; and en¬ 
 deavoring, by her conversation, to secure the 
 religious impressions made on his mind by the 
 
 prayer meetings in B-. After some months 
 
 she removed to a distant part of the provinces, 
 and for years she heard nothing more of the 
 young sailor. 
 
 # * * * * # * 
 
 In 18 — I was appointed to B-. One of 
 
 the most agreeable circumstances of this new 
 2 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 179 
 
 appointment was, that it afforded me the ac¬ 
 quaintance of “ Father T.,” the celebrated mari¬ 
 ner’s preacher of the city—a gentleman whose 
 fame for genius and usefulness was general ; 
 whose extraordinary character has been sketch¬ 
 ed in our periodicals, and the books of trans¬ 
 atlantic visitors,* as one of the so-called “ lions” 
 of the city, whom a distinguished critic has pro¬ 
 nounced the greatest poet of the land, though 
 unable to write a stanza ; and the mayor of 
 
 B-had publicly declared a more effectual 
 
 protector of the peace of the most degraded 
 parts of the city than any hundred policemen. 
 
 In the spacious and substantial chapel, crowd¬ 
 ed about by the worst habitations of the city, 
 this distinguished man delivered, every sabbath, 
 discourses the most extraordinary, to assemblies 
 also as extraordinary, perhaps, as are to be found 
 in the Christian world. In the centre column 
 of seats, guarded sacredly against all other in¬ 
 trusion, sat a dense mass of mariners—a strange 
 medley of white, black, and olive—Protestant, 
 Catholic, and pagan—representing many lan¬ 
 guages, unable, it may be, to comprehend each 
 other’s vocal speech, but speaking there the 
 same language of intense looks and flowing 
 
 * See Miss Martineau, Buckingham, and, more re¬ 
 cently, Dickens. 
 
 2 
 
180 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 tears. On the other seats, in the galleries, the 
 aisles, the altar, and on the pulpit stairs, crowd¬ 
 ed, week after week, and year after year, with 
 the families of sailors, and the poor who had no 
 other temple, the elite of the city—the learned 
 professor, the student, the popular writer, the 
 actor, groups of clergymen, and the votaries 
 of gayety and fashion—listening with throb¬ 
 bing hearts and wet eyes to a man whose only 
 school had been the forecastle, whose only en¬ 
 dowments those of grace and nature ; but whose 
 discourses presented the strongest, the most 
 brilliant exhibition I have ever witnessed, of 
 shrewd sense, epigrammatic thought, melting 
 pathos, and resistless humor, expressed in a 
 style of pertinency, spangled over by an ex¬ 
 haustless variety of the finest images, and per¬ 
 vaded by a spiritual earnestness that subdued 
 all listeners—a man who could scarcely speak 
 three sentences in the pulpit, or out of it, with¬ 
 out presenting a striking poetical image, a 
 phrase of rare beauty, or a sententious sarcasm, 
 and the living examples of whose usefulness 
 are scattered over the seas. 
 
 # # * * # * # 
 
 During my second year in B-, an 
 
 aged English local preacher moved to the city 
 
 from the British provinces, and became con- 
 2 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 181 
 
 nected with my charge. His wife, though ad¬ 
 vanced in years, had that colloquial vivacity, 
 motherly affectionateness, and air of tidiness, 
 which we often find in the better-trained women 
 of the common people of England. I felt a cor¬ 
 dial comfortableness about their humble hearth 
 which was not to be found in more stately 
 dwellings, and often resorted to it for an hour 
 of sociability and conversation. I thus became 
 acquainted with her history—her former resi 
 dence in the city—the evening prayer meeting 
 —her removal to the provinces—her second 
 marriage, etc. 
 
 ****** 
 
 The old local preacher was mingling in a pub¬ 
 lic throng one day with a friend, when they met 
 “Father T.” A few words of introduction led 
 to a free conversation in which the former resi¬ 
 dence of his wife in the city was mentioned ; 
 an allusion was made to her prayer meeting— 
 her former name was asked by “Father T.” 
 He seemed seized by an impulse ; inquired 
 their residence ; hastened away, and in a short 
 time arrived in a carriage, with all his family, 
 at the home of the aged pair. There a scene 
 ensued which I must leave to the imagination 
 of the reader. “ Father T.” was the sailor boy 
 of the prayer meeting and the prison; the old 
 
 2 
 
182 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 lady was the widow who had first cared for his 
 soul. They had met once more ! 
 
 Her husband has since gone to heaven ; and 
 she resides in humble but comfortable obscurity, 
 unknown to the world, but exerting upon it, 
 through the sailor preacher, an influence foi 
 good which the final day alone can fully reveal. 
 
 Reader, there may be a neglected spirit within 
 thy reach, which, reclaimed by thine influence 
 from vice, might be to thee an agency of ines¬ 
 timable usefulness ; a gem on the brow of the 
 church on earth, and a blessed companion in 
 thy walks over the “ flowery meads” of heaven. 
 Under the abject rags of poverty is wrapped a 
 jewel which may glitter on the crown of the 
 Redeemer in the heavens ; and which an arch¬ 
 angel would descend swiftly from the skies to 
 seize and recover. But to angels is denied 
 this honor; yet it may be thine! and it may 
 afford thee more “ riches of glory ” than could 
 all the diadems of earth. 
 
 2 
 
183 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 * 
 
 UTILITY OF SABBATH SCHOOLS. 
 
 l All thy children shall he taught of the Lord, and great 
 shall be the peace of thy children .”—Isaiah. 
 
 Would that I could place every child of this 
 land in a sabbath school. I should prefer this 
 usefulness to that of the “ father of his country.” 
 I should thereby secure and aggrandize its des¬ 
 tiny more than all treasures, and arms, and le¬ 
 gislation could ; nay, it would thus be made the 
 light of the world ! I wish to put on record an 
 humble word for this noble institution. 
 
 Among the distinguishing advantages of the 
 sabbath school, I consider most important— 
 
 Its tendency to counteract the almost universal 
 mis-education of the moral character of children. 
 The only system of education which is sanc¬ 
 tioned by the spirit and principles of Christian¬ 
 ity, is that which is based on the recognition of 
 man’s eternity ; which calculates, as its first ob¬ 
 ject, the improvement of his heart; and teaches 
 him to estimate everything else only as it is 
 subservient to the world to come. How widely 
 different is this from the prevailing systems of 
 education ! How seldom is the young immor¬ 
 tal impressed with the admonition, that all its 
 present improvements should be made in re- 
 
 2 
 
184 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 ference to the eternal future! Its calculations 
 are limited to the present world. The first and 
 chief incentive addressed to its mind is one that 
 appeals to the most depraved affection of our 
 fallen nature— selfishness. It is exhorted to dili¬ 
 gence in its improvement for its own aggrandize¬ 
 ment. Its infant hands may indeed be clasped^ 
 and its young voice taught, morning and even¬ 
 ing, to say—“ Our Father, who art in heaven 
 but it is too frequently only because of the 
 lovely simplicity of the act. Religion is made 
 too much a matter of mere incidental attention, 
 fit only for the leisure of a sabbath day, for a 
 sick bed, or a dying hour. The instructions 
 of the sabbath school tend to counteract this 
 defective training. They point the young mind 
 to its future state—a state where its present 
 actions will be developing their result when 
 suns have quenched their fires and the stars 
 have fallen from heaven. 
 
 From the consideration of the influence of the 
 sabbath school on personal character , the transi¬ 
 tion is natural to its influence on the public cha¬ 
 racter of communities . The character of a com¬ 
 munity is but a combination of the more promi¬ 
 nent and general traits that mark the personal 
 character of the individuals who compose it. 
 Hence one is a more or less true criterion of 
 2 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 185 
 
 the other; they are as inseparably connected 
 as cause and effect. Wherever, therefore, any 
 average standard of individual character can be 
 introduced in a community, that will be the 
 standard of its public character. The sabbath 
 school, acting, as it does, on so large a mass 
 of the community, and that, too, in the most 
 susceptible time of life, must exert an important 
 influence on its character. The salutary ten¬ 
 dency of religious knowledge has been attested 
 in the history of every community where the 
 experiment has been made. In Ireland, a 
 country affording sufficient natural facilities for 
 every comfort and refinement, the universal 
 features of society are beggary, grossness, and 
 superstition ; while in Scotland, a land far less 
 favorable in soil and climate, in the lowliest cot¬ 
 tage dwell neatness and social virtue. “ The 
 disparity,” says one who is competent to judge, 
 (Robert Hall,) “ can be ascribed only to the 
 difference of moral and mental cultivation in 
 the two places.” Ireland is depressed under 
 the influence of a degrading religion, which 
 precludes the Bible from her children, and sub¬ 
 stitutes in its place a medley of demoralizing 
 errors ; Scotland is blessed with an evangelical 
 faith, and an enlightened clergy; and has been 
 
 taught to consider her beautiful and romantic 
 
 2 
 
186 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 scenery deficient without the additional orna 
 ment of the school-house and the church spire 
 
 South America is darkened with superstition, 
 corrupt with vice, and rent with political anar¬ 
 chy. New-England is the oasis of the world; 
 the light of knowledge illuminates the cradle 
 shines around the hearth, irradiates the work 
 shop, and blends with all the intercourses of 
 social life. Peace and quiet pervade its extent. 
 South America has been for ages under the in¬ 
 fluence of a corrupt hierarchy, whose motto, 
 asserted in theory, and carried out in practice, 
 is, that “ ignorance is the mother of devotion.” 
 New-England , on the other hand, was settled 
 by men who reposed their hopes for the well¬ 
 being of their posterity on the power of educa¬ 
 tion and religion ; who, in their patriarchal sim¬ 
 plicity, gathered together their rusty books to 
 found a college library; gave the produce of 
 their harvests, by the bushel, from their garners, 
 for the subsistence of its faculty ; and who, 
 rather than be without the district school-house, 
 would, every man of them, take a beam from 
 his cottage with which to build one. 
 
 The morality of the Bible furnishes the only 
 sure basis for any good social order. It has 
 given to our own land its moral elevation. It 
 has ornamented its towns and villages with the 
 2 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 187 
 
 church spire, pointing to the God of our fathers; 
 and the humming school-house, the sanctuary 
 of our children—it has spread peace and com¬ 
 petence through our community, and brought 
 comfort and endearment to our homes. The 
 Bible was the boast of our fathers : under its 
 sanction they fought the battles of our liberty; 
 on its principles they founded our institutions. 
 They were not deluded;—the results attest their 
 wisdom. 
 
 The Sunday school is an efficient instrument¬ 
 ality for suppressing vice and calling out latent 
 intellect , from its adaptation to the poor. It is 
 particularly important to the children of the poon 
 because they are, from their circumstances and 
 the examples around them, exposed to vice. 
 Their parents are necessarily engaged in labor, 
 and cannot devote proper attention to their train¬ 
 ing. As soon as they are able to engage in 
 manual work they must leave the public school, 
 and, without the sabbath school, be destitute of 
 the means of mental improvement—left to grow 
 up in ignorance and vice, and become the paupers 
 and criminals of the community. Among the 
 poor are frequently the best materials for use¬ 
 fulness and greatness. It is the testimony of 
 all literary biography, that the elements of in¬ 
 tellectual greatness are chiefly to be found 
 
 2 
 
18$ SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 among the obscure. Uneffeminated, accus 
 tomed to scenes of self-dependence, cradled 
 in poverty, and nursed on the marble bosom of 
 adversity, they possess that true masculineness 
 and energy that fit the mind for high purposes 
 and great emergencies. There is too much 
 truth in the remark of the poet,— 
 
 “ Full many a gem, of purest ray serene, 
 
 The dark unfathom’d caves of ocean bear; 
 
 Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, 
 
 And waste its sweetness on the desert air.” 
 
 And in the grave-yard of many an obscure 
 village molders, with the ashes of peasants and 
 plough-boys, the unhonored remains of those 
 
 “ Whose hearts were pregnant with celestial fire; 
 
 Whose hands the rod of empire might have sway’d 
 Or waked to ecstasy the living lyre.” 
 
 Original greatness of mind, such as, under 
 the education of Newton, made the author of 
 the “ Principia,” or, under the circumstances of 
 Milton, made the author of “ Paradise Lost,” 
 is not local in its distribution. It may reside 
 in the cranium of the peasant, the mechanic, or 
 the tar, as well as in that of the occupant of the 
 college domicil. But, in the one case it is call¬ 
 ed out, in the other it is not; thus many a latent 
 spark of intellectual fire has gone out which 
 might have kindled into a beacon light to guide 
 2 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 189 
 
 aviation or an age. The sabbath school fur¬ 
 nishes us with access to such minds. Who 
 can estimate the amount of mental energy it is 
 putting into operation, the pearls it is bringing 
 up from the depths of obscurity ? 
 
 Again , contemplate its probable influence on 
 the future character of the Christian church , both 
 laity and ministry. It is a truth which all ob¬ 
 servation has rendered familiar, that the earliest 
 impressions of the mind are the most powerful, 
 and are of the utmost moment in the develop¬ 
 ment of the subsequent character. Hence the 
 great importance everywhere attached to the 
 early education of children—hence, the charac¬ 
 ter of an adult is almost always a true criterion 
 of his early training ; and the intelligence and 
 public virtue of a community are a sure index 
 to its state of primary education. So that the 
 fact now alluded to applies, not only to individual 
 character, but to the public character of com¬ 
 munities, which, as above said, is but the aggre¬ 
 gate of individual character. 
 
 Now, with this important fact, taught us by 
 the whole history of human nature, what calcu¬ 
 lations may we not make in regard to the future 
 influence of this institution on the Christian 
 church, and on the whole moral world ? It 
 brings the regenerating influences of the gos- 
 
 2 
 
190 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 pel to operate on the first moral susceptibilities 
 of the young immortal spirit; it blends these 
 influences with the unperverted sympathies and 
 tender affections of childhood. It directs its 
 soft rays on the budding flower. And there is 
 a purity in the first and fresh affections of the 
 young heart—a purity which we all remember, 
 but which the searing influence of later years 
 too often and too fatally perverts—that is conge¬ 
 nial with the influences of the gospel, and se¬ 
 cures to them a much more promising effect 
 than in later years. If early training has so 
 remarkable an influence on the character of in¬ 
 dividuals and communities, we may well pre¬ 
 sume that, when the sabbath school shall have 
 accomplished the full experiment of its influence, 
 it will exhibit results, the anticipations of which 
 should send gladness and hope through the 
 Christian world. That experiment has not yet 
 been completed ; it has been but partially pro¬ 
 secuted. A single generation has not yet pass¬ 
 ed since the general establishment of the insti¬ 
 tution. Indeed, the experiment is not yet fully 
 commenced . The sabbath school has hardly yet 
 attained a general establishment, even in the 
 Christian world. And yet already it has been 
 productive of the most gratifying results; wher¬ 
 ever it is in operation it is training up a new 
 2 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 191 
 
 generation of Christians—men and women dis¬ 
 ciplined, almost from their cradle-days, to the 
 duties and enterprises of religion, with souls 
 baptized into its spirit, and active with its stre¬ 
 nuous energies. Who are they who make up 
 the gross membership of our churches, and are 
 most active in all their enterprises ? Are they 
 the aged—the middle-aged ? There are indeed 
 a few of the former, the elders of Israel, who 
 give venerable counsel in the gates of the city, 
 and more of the latter ; but it is confessed that 
 the efficiency of the American church is now in 
 the hands of her young men and young women 
 —those who have entered its pale since the 
 epoch of sabbath schools. 
 
 This was not the case in the days of the fa¬ 
 thers. Youthful piety was then a remarkable 
 circumstance. Youthful morality was indeed 
 common, but not piety—the provisions of the 
 times were just sufficient to impose the restraints 
 of morality, which were expected, in mature 
 years, to strengthen into piety. • But now our 
 congregations are thronged with the young. Our 
 altars are bedewed with the penitent tears of 
 youth and childhood. Juvenile piety is infus¬ 
 ing spirit and vivacity into all the movements 
 of Christendom ; and the strong energy of young 
 
 manhood has laid hold, in its might, upon the 
 
 2 
 
192 
 
 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 cross, and is redeeming the world, and sending 
 trembling through the ranks of darkness and 
 error. Who can doubt that the sabbath school 
 has had an important agency in producing that 
 spirit of moral enterprise which, since the date 
 of this institution, but not before, has revived 
 the church into life, and filled the civilized 
 world with moral activity ? 
 
 And what effect is this institution having and 
 is it destined to have on the ministry ? How 
 many hundreds, who now stand prominently in 
 its ranks, and thousands who are preparing to 
 stand there, have received their first impres¬ 
 sions of the truth, and their commission to 
 preach it, through the faithful sabbath-school 
 teacher ? It is the theological school of the 
 millennium! From it are to go forth those 
 master spirits who will be demanded by the 
 future emergencies of the church, and who 
 alone will be competent to conduct its final 
 triumphs—the men whose strong arms are to 
 nold up her ensigns in the last battles, and beai 
 them on before a yielding world—men who, 
 like the youth of the best days of the classic 
 nations, shall have been trained and hardened 
 for the work from infancy—self-sacrificing men, 
 who will throw their whole souls and bodies 
 into every exigency of the church, and, like 
 2 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 193 
 
 Leonidas and his Spartans, guard the moral 
 passes of the world against the enemy. Such 
 men are wanted by the present openings for the 
 spread of the gospel; and we cannot but think 
 that Providence has brought into being this in¬ 
 stitution as a wisely-adapted means of meeting 
 this necessity of the times. 
 
 Lastly, this institution appears interesting to 
 me as a beautiful example of that sympathy and 
 attentiveness for the well-being of all men 
 which the Christian spirit inspires. It brings 
 the light of eternity down to the very cradle. 
 It sweetens the loveliness of childhood with 
 the sanctifying influences of the gospel. It 
 imparts the cheering comforts of those blessed 
 doctrines which teach us the saving love of the 
 Redeemer, the parental superintendence of our 
 heavenly Father, and the hope of a peaceful 
 heaven, where sorrowing and sighing shall flee 
 away, and the hand of God shall wipe tears 
 from all eyes, to the first anxieties of the dawn¬ 
 ing and inquisitive mind. Instead of allowing 
 those passions which deprave and imbitter the 
 heart to grow, until they become fixed habits, 
 binding the soul as with shackles of brass, it 
 seeks to eradicate them in their first germina¬ 
 tion. It illuminates the smiles of unperverted 
 childhood with the loveliness of infant piety, 
 Vol II.—13 
 
194 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 and throws around wayward youth the strong 
 shield of religious principle. It exposes not, 
 like infidelity, these lambs of the flock to every 
 beast of prey that prowls to despoil them of 
 their innocence; but, like an imbodied angel, 
 it takes them to its arms, as did the Saviour of 
 the world, and blesses them : “ Of such is the 
 kingdom of heaven.” They are the emblems 
 of the innocence of the skies ; under the train¬ 
 ing of the sabbath school they become the 
 cherubs of the earthly church. 
 
 I lately heard a discourse in behalf of this 
 institution in which the preacher spoke empha¬ 
 tically of the adaptation of the sabbath school 
 to rescue the exposed children of the poor, and 
 concluded with an illustrative anecdote which 
 took the assembly by surprise. Twelve years 
 ago, said he, there lived, not one mile from this 
 spot, in a solitary chamber, a poor widow and 
 her four children, the oldest three of whom had 
 but imperfectly learned to read. They had 
 seen happier days ; but the father of the family 
 died after a protracted illness, which consumed 
 all their resources. The widow gathered her 
 little ones into a small house, and by toiling 
 day and night with her needle, and month after 
 month, selling articles of their former furniture, 
 sustained them a few years. Her labor, which 
 2 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 195 
 
 was continued often till near the dawn of day, 
 destroyed health, and prostrated her with pul¬ 
 monary consumption, under which she languish¬ 
 ed through two or three years. During this 
 time her eldest daughter had to attend her sick 
 bed and the suffering family depended entirely 
 on the labors of two sons, (the eldest not twelve 
 years of age,) in a neighboring factory. The 
 charity of their poor neighbors sometimes re¬ 
 lieved them ; but often were they reduced to 
 bread or potatoes alone for food, and a few 
 chips for their comfortless hearth. They were 
 crowded at last into a single room, where the 
 heart-broken mother soon died, hoping in God 
 for a rest beyond the grave, and leaving to his 
 protection her helpless children. 
 
 Three of these children had, in former years, 
 and, occasionally, during their sad afflictions, 
 attended a sabbath school, which was established 
 for the benefit of the poor in the neighborhood, 
 and superintended by an humble but devoted 
 blacksmith. At the decease of their mother, the 
 two sisters and younger brother were placed in 
 distant situations, while the eldest boy continued 
 to work in the factory, and attend the sabbath 
 school. The death of his mother prepared his 
 heart for religious impressions. In a few months 
 
 he was converted to God in a class meeting of 
 
 2 
 
196 SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 children connected with the school. And now 
 the spirit within him was roused to exertion ; he 
 took the library books of the school in his pocket 
 to the factory, tied them open on the posts of his 
 room, and at every leisure moment snatched a 
 few lines of reading: thus he toiled on, serving 
 God and improving his mind, till some liberal 
 Christians rescued him from his lowly lot, and 
 sent him to school, and in time he became a 
 preacher of the word of life. While at school he 
 received the joyful tidings of his eldest sister’s 
 conversion ; and she is now a devoted member 
 of the church. His younger brother had been 
 placed in the country several miles from any 
 church, and amid influences which hardly allow¬ 
 ed the hope of his being awakened and converted. 
 Yet the former impressions of the sabbath school 
 remained. The divine Spirit enforced them, 
 and he was, by and by, led to the distant house 
 of God ; he became converted, and is now also 
 in the ministry. 
 
 Thus were these three saved, under the most 
 unpropitious circumstances, by at least the indi¬ 
 rect instrumentality of this valuable institution. 
 And why were they thus discriminated from the 
 younger child, who still remains unconverted ? 
 There is no answer, except that from her early 
 
 age at that time, and unfavorable circumstances 
 2 
 
SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 197 
 
 since, she has neyer come under the influence of 
 the sabbath school. The oldest son has recently 
 been traveling abroad ; and, from the scenes of 
 trans-atlantic art and romance, he has returned 
 with the yearning heart of a pilgrim approach¬ 
 ing his holy shrine, to look once more on the 
 old school-room where he received all his hopes, 
 and to shake the hardy hand of the Christian 
 blacksmith who first directed his feet heaven¬ 
 ward : and here that Sunday scholar stands 
 before you to-night. The effect of this scene 
 was deepened by the fact that two other young 
 ministers sat in the pulpit at the time, who had 
 been converted at the same school, and many 
 of the most active members of the church had 
 been scholars. 
 
 2 
 
 THE END 
 
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