VOLUME 3 — BOOK V — CHAPTER III
METHODISM IN THE SOUTH CONTINUED — 1792-1796

Benjamin Abbott in Maryland — His Singular Power — Remarkable Examples — Scenes at Quarterly Meetings — His Health fails — His Death — His Character — Whatcoat in Maryland — Henry Smith and Francis McCormick — William McKendree's early Itinerant Life — Anecdotes — His Character — Enoch George — John Easter — Illustrations of George's Life and Character — Hope Hull's Labors — His Prayer in a Ballroom — Interest in Education — Character — Coleman and Simon Carlisle — Remarkable Charge and Deliverance — Stephen G. Roszel — Joshua Wells — Great Men of Southern Methodism — Deaths of Preachers — Statistical Results

Many mighty men were Asbury's co-laborers in the southern states in the quadrennial period from 1792 to 1796; and many, destined to be pre-eminent at a later day, were rising up in the yet feeble and obscure conferences of that part of the continent.

Benjamin Abbott's appointments for the brief remainder of his life [1] were in Maryland. His journals become more scanty than in the years through which we have already followed him, but they record the same extraordinary effects of his preaching, hearers falling under the word "like men slain in battle," the "opening of the windows of heaven, and the skies pouring down righteousness, so that the people fell before the Lord." We have had occasion to discuss the astonishing physical and psychological phenomena which attended his ministrations, and to state the cautious interpretation of such anomalies given by the best Methodist authorities. Though not peculiar to his preaching, they were peculiarly powerful with him. They were indeed habitual, almost invariable effects of his singular eloquence for he was eloquent in the best sense of the word. Uneducated, rough, rude even, in speech and manner, his fervid piety and his genial human sympathy made his weather-worn features glow as with a divine light, and intoned his voice with a strange, a magnetic, an irresistible pathos and power. There may have been a psychological, perhaps a physiological, as well as a moral element in this marvelous power, a mystery which future science may render more intelligible; be this as it may, Benjamin Abbott led a divine life on earth, walking with God, like Enoch, from day to day, and the hardiest, the most ruffian men who came within his presence, the clamorous rabble that frequently thronged his congregations, fell back, or sank prostrate before him, seeing "his face as it had been the face of an angel;" and if they attempted, as they often did, to escape by the doors or the windows, his voice would sometimes smite them down like lightning. His casual conversation, always religious, his social or domestic prayers, had the same effect. We continually read not merely of "God attending the word, with the energy of the Holy Ghost, in such manner that numbers fell to the floor," that "the wicked flew to the doors," that "there was a shaking among the dry bones," but that at his temporary lodging-places, "in family prayer, the Lord was with him of a truth," and similar wonders attended him. If he went into a house to baptize a child, we hear of like effects — the "mother trembling in every joint, four persons falling to the floor, one professing that God has sanctified her soul." In some cases, as we have seen, most, or even all his congregation, save himself; were thus prostrated. And, however morally dangerous such scenes might seem to be, (physically they never were injurious,) they appear to have been uniformly followed with salutary results. Few preachers, perhaps no other one of his day, reclaimed more men from gross vice. His mission seemed especially to such.

He now kept the whole Eastern Shore of Maryland astir with religious interest. Even those whose religious education had taught them to associate quietude with piety, were infected with the excitement. "In the morning," he writes, "we had a melting time; many wept. In the afternoon the Lord poured out his Spirit and the slain fell before him like dead men; others lay as in the agonies of death, entreating God to have mercy on their souls; some found peace. Glory to God, many in this town seemed alarmed of their danger; may the Lord increase their number. A girl who lived with a Quaker was cut to the heart in such a manner that they did not know how to get her home; I went to see her, and found many round her, both white and black. She lay as one near her last gasp; I kneeled down and besought God for her deliverance, and in a few minutes she broke out in raptures of joy, crying out, 'Let me go to Jesus!' repeating it several times; then she arose and went home. Glory to God! for what my eyes saw, my ears heard, and soul felt that day, of the blessed Spirit. The meeting continued from three o'clock until evening."

Family groups, bearing him in their carriages to their homes, from his meetings, were "awakened, "converted," "sanctified," "shouted the praises of God," "lost their strength" or consciousness, as he conversed with them on the route. In love-feasts, sometimes, not one could give the usual narration of Christian experience, but, under the introductory devotions, "the Lord so laid his hand upon them, that sinners trembled and fell to the floor," and the customary exercises had to give way to prayer and praise. Again we read: "I held prayer meeting, and the Lord manifested his love among us. There was a shaking among the dry bones. One lay as if she were dead for nearly two hours, and then came to with praises to God for her deliverance, with great raptures of joy. The children of God were filled with joy unspeakable. How inexpressible are the pleasures of those who are filled with the raptures of a Saviour's love! Ecstatic pause! 'Silence heightens heaven!' I held prayer meeting and the power of the Lord fell upon the people in such a manner that the slain lay all over the floor. Several were converted to God; one or two professed sanctification: glory to God, he carried on his own work." Again, "the Lord attended the word with power, and divers fell before him like Dagon before the ark. I was obliged to leave the slain on the floor in order to attend my next appointment, where I found a large congregation to whom I preached. It was a day of his power; he worked and none could hinder him." Again, "I preached with life and power, and the Lord manifested his presence among us; some cried for mercy, and a solemn awe sat on many faces. I went to my next appointment, and preached to a large congregation. The Lord laid to his helping hand, and there was a mighty shaking among the dry bones; divers persons lay through the house, as dead men slain by the mighty power of God. The same Jesus who raised Lazarus from the dead, raised up nine persons, that we could ascertain, to praise him as a sin-pardoning God; and how many more that we could not ascertain, God only know; for many wept, and some shouted praises. Glory to God, this was a day that will be long remembered by many precious souls. I was as happy as I could live in the body."

As the people returned to their homes they were heard praising God along the highways. And such scenes were not occasional or exceptional; nearly every day's record reports them, for there was hardly a day in which he did not hold a meeting, and hardly a meeting without immediate results. As facts of the times, not uncommon in any part of the Church, they are essential to a faithful record of its history, however our modern criticism, or more decorous ideas of religious life, may judge them.

On the more important or festival occasions of the Church, especially at the great quarterly meetings of the time, this spiritual enthusiasm kindled still higher, and spread out like a flame over whole circuits. They were jubilees to Abbott. On one of them he says: "Our meeting began at six o'clock in the morning, and when we had sung and prayed, the power of God came down in such a manner that the slain lay all through the house. Some seemed lost in the ocean of God's love, some professed justification, and others, that God had sanctified their souls. This meeting was so powerful that but one attempted to speak her experience in love feast; while she was speaking, she sunk down, crying out, God has made me all love! Immediately the house was filled with cries and praises to God; some trembled and were astonished. We had to carry the slain out of the house, in order to make room that the people might come in for the public preaching; and when we had sung and prayed the presence of the Lord came down as in the days of old, and the house was filled with his glory; the people fell before him like men slain in battle. It was a great day of God's power to many souls; some professed sanctification, some justification. This was a day of days to my soul. The windows being open, there were hundreds outside gazing at those in the house who were slain before the Lord; but they lay both in the house and out of it. Prayers were put up to God, both within and without, in behalf of the penitents and mourners. I trust that many date their conviction, and others their conversion from that quarterly meeting."

If he deviated for such special occasions to other circuits, the same extraordinary scenes attended him. "I went," he writes, "to quarterly meeting on Dover circuit; we had a happy day. On Sunday, in love-feast, the Lord God of Elijah, who answereth by fire, poured out his Spirit. 'Elijah the prophet came near, and said, Lord God of Abraham, Isaac, and of Israel, let it be known this day that thou art God in Israel, and that I am thy servant, etc. Hear me, O Lord, hear me, that this people may know that thou art the Lord God, etc. Then the fire of the Lord fell, and consumed the burnt sacrifices, etc. And when the people saw it, they fell on their faces: and they said, the Lord, he is the God the Lord, he is the God.' 1 Kings xviii, 36-39. So on this day, when the fire of the Lord came down, the people fell and acknowledged the power of God; and the slain lay all about the house; some were carried out as dead men and women. The house was filled with the glory of Israel's God, who spoke peace to mourners, while sinners were cut to the heart. Glory to God, it was a high day to my own soul. It was thought there were about fifteen hundred looking on, with wonder and amazement at the mighty power of God, which caused the powers of hell to shake and give way; many of the spectators trembled and were astonished; numbers professed faith in Christ, and others sanctifying grace; God's dear children, generally, were refreshed. This was one of the days of the Son of man. On Tuesday, in family prayer, the power of God came down wonderfully upon us; four fell to the floor, and they found 'Him of whom Moses in the law and the prophets did write, Jesus of Nazareth,' to the joy of their souls."

Of course there could be no stagnation in the region through which such a man traveled sounding his trumpet daily; we read that "the flame spread around the circuit, and many were brought to the knowledge of God." He continued these labors till May, 1795, when, failing in health, he returned to his home in New Jersey, and was never able to resume his travels on a circuit. He had been suffering, in Maryland, for three months from fever and ague. On returning to New Jersey, he frequently exerted his little remaining strength in religious meetings, until June, 1796, when he rapidly failed; but his soul remained unclouded to the last. He testified that "perfect love casteth out fear, and he that feareth is not made perfect in love:" and that he believed a state attainable in this life, through grace, that "would enable us to shout victory to God and the Lamb, through the valley of the shadow of death." Also, that he had seen many leave this world in "the greatest transport of joy imaginable. And for my part," he added, "I can call God to witness, that death is no terror to me! I am ready to meet my God if it were now!" On the 13th of August he was in "excruciating pain," which he bore with Christian patience and resignation. He was happy in God, and rejoiced at his approaching dissolution. He appeared to possess his rational faculties to his last moments; and for some time previous was delivered from pain, to the joy of his friends; his countenance continued joyful, heavenly, and serene; 'Glory to God!' he exclaimed, 'I see heaven sweetly opened before me!' "

The next day he was no more. He died as he had lived, "shouting!" "Glory! glory! glory!" are his last utterances recorded by his biographer, who attended him in death. He uttered them "clapping his hands, in the greatest ecstasies of joy imaginable." The ruling passion was strong in death.

Thus passes from the scene of our story one of its most remarkable characters. He had led hosts of souls from the lowest abysses of vice into a good life and into the Church, from the Hudson to the Chesapeake. He has been a problem to students of our history. I have already endeavored to give the solution of that problem; but his singular, yet most effective life will ever remain a marvel, if not a mystery. An extraordinary individuality of character, sanctified by extraordinary endowments of divine grace, must be its chief explanation. They fitted him for a peculiar work, and he did it thoroughly, with all his might and to the end. All his characteristics were extreme; we have seen the vices of his youth, the extreme struggles of his early Christian experience, and how, like the godly "dreamer of Bedford jail," he rose from the struggle into a saintly, a genial, and a powerful life. His sincerity, purity, tenderness, and humility, vindicated his character even to the severest accusers of the wonders of his ministry. A Methodist citizen of Philadelphia, who knew him well for twenty years, and in whose house he spent some time in his last sickness, says "he used frequently to tell me of his life, and manner of living, during his unregenerate state. While he was an apprentice in Philadelphia he was a wicked lad, associated with bad company. He used to quarrel and fight frequently. At times, by fighting, he has had his clothes so bloody, that he has stripped them off and washed them in the night at the pumps in the streets; and frequently, instead of going home, he used to sleep in the Quaker burying ground, between the graves; feeling, at that time, no terror from the living or the dead, by night or by day; for he feared not God nor regarded man. When he became a man he was particularly noted as a great fighter; and but few excelled him in divers kinds of vice. He has been known to leave his business, and his dinner, and to walk several miles to meet a noted fighter, in order to show his manhood and bravery in that line. He frequently had to appear before the courts of justice on account of these wicked courses; and he generally pleaded guilty. At one of those courts a certain gentleman, to whose care public peace and justice were committed, took a private opportunity to prevail on him to turn out and fight a man who was there, for which he treated him with a bowl of punch. Surely his conversion was a remarkable instance of sovereign grace and divine mercy. The lion became the lamb! The hero in the service of the devil became a bold veteran in the service of God. After his conversion, numbers had old grudges against him, and sought to ensnare him in divers ways; but, by grace, he stood firm, and immovably attached to the cause of religion, maintaining a bold, uniform, and circumspect life. On a certain occasion, after his reformation, he had to appear before the grand jury, and before they entered on the business for which he was called, he said to the jury, 'Let us first go to prayer!' He prayed, they had a solemn time, and one of the jury was struck under conviction. He was much persecuted by the ungodly; but although his oppositions were many, he was nevertheless remarkably useful in his ministry, and in visiting the sick and distressed."

His later character is thus drawn by the same familiar friend: "He was, in my opinion, a man of the greatest faith I ever was acquainted with. He was an agreeable neighbor and social friend; plain in his manners and deportment; pleasant in his conversation; meek and humble in his spirit. I do not recollect that I ever saw him even appear to be out of temper, so great was the work grace had done for him. He appeared, as far as I could judge, to travail in spirit continually for precious souls. With great zeal and faith he used to urge conviction, repentance, and conversion on the ungodly; and among professors, he, with equal warmth of zeal and love, would insist on sanctification, and the Lord remarkably blessed his labors. The divine power of sovereign grace attended his ministry more wonderfully and constantly than any one I ever was acquainted with, to the conviction and conversion of sinners, and to the sanctification of believers. Through his instrumentality there was a great reformation among the people."

No man was more loved by good men who intimately knew him; they deemed his presence under their roofs a sanctifying blessing. The one from whom I have cited says: "He had remarkable patience and resignation, which was visible and wonderful to the family; he appeared all love, and was heavenly in his conversation. I felt a strong desire that, if it were the will of God, he might die at my house. I should have esteemed it an honor conferred on me by Providence, had so eminent a saint and servant of God ended his days under my roof. But he removed in the spring of 1796 to the Jerseys, where he lingered out a few months in weakness and pain of body, but in peace and happiness of soul; then 'closed his eyes to see his God.' "

He died aged about sixty-four years, had been a Methodist nearly twenty-four years, a local preacher more than sixteen, a traveling preacher more than seven. His ministerial brethren characterized him in their Conference Minutes "as one of the wonders of America, no man's copy; an uncommon zealot for the blessed work of sanctification, he preaching it on all occasions and in all congregations, and what was best of all, living it. He was an innocent, holy man; he was seldom heard to speak anything but about God and religion; his whole soul was often overwhelmed with the power of God. He was known to hundreds as a truly primitive Methodist preacher, and a man full of faith and the Holy Ghost." [2]

Whatcoat has left us but a page or two respecting his labors in this period. He was Abbott's presiding elder, most of the time, on the Maryland peninsula. Grave, but fervidly pious, he wondered while he rejoiced at the results of Abbott's preaching. An extraordinary revival spread over his extended district. "We had large congregations, and many blessed revivals in different parts of the district," he says: "Our quarterly meetings were generally comfortable, lively, and profitable. Some appeared extraordinary; souls were suddenly struck with convictions, and fell to the ground, roaring out for the disquietness of their souls, as though almost dead, and after a while starting up and praising God, as though heaven were come into their souls; others were as much concerned for a cleaner heart, and as fully delivered. I had to attend forty-eight quarterly meetings in the space of twelve mouths while on this district."

Henry Smith entered the field of the itinerancy in the present period — a man venerable throughout the Church, in our own day, familiar to most of its people by his long and widely-extended services, and his frequent published letters, dated from "Pilgrim's Rest," Baltimore county, on the early events of our history. [3] When ninety-four years old he could say, "I am now, I believe, the only link in the old Baltimore Conference connecting our early preachers with the present race. When but a boy I heard Rev. Mr. Naisy preach in an old Episcopal church near Charlestown, Virginia. He had then taken the ground. I was intimately acquainted with William Watters, and also knew and heard Garrettson, and many others of our early preachers. I saw and heard Dr. Coke. I was quite intimate with Asbury, and knew the sainted Whatcoat. The first Methodist preacher I heard was William Jessop; the second was the lovely Thornton Flemming. The first Methodist preacher that preached in my father's house was Lewis Chasteen. Under the second sermon preached there by Thomas Scott, (afterward Judge Scott, of Ohio,) I made up my mind to be a Christian in earnest, and joined the Methodists. In 1793 I was licensed to preach at a quarterly meeting. The late Joshua Wells signed my license. In the latter part of the summer I entered the itinerant work on Berkeley circuit. On the 1st of June, 1794, I attended the first conference at Harrisonburgh, Rockingham county. I was appointed to Clarksburgh circuit, west of the Allegheny Mountains; in the following spring to the Redstone circuit. In October, 1793, I attended my first conference in Baltimore. From there I was sent to Kentucky; then to the far West. There was but one conference then west of the Allegheny Mountains, called the Western Conference, and that was small, though spread over a vast territory, namely, Western Virginia, New River, and Holston, and East Tennessee, Cumberland, and Kentucky. In October, 1799, I crossed the Ohio into the northwestern territory, and organized the Scioto circuit. In the spring of 1800 I came to the General Conference in Baltimore; and by my own request was returned to Scioto, my newly-formed circuit. Thence I was returned to Kentucky, and ended my western labors on Nolachucky circuit, Tennessee, March, 1803, having suffered much from bilious fever, ague and fever, dyspepsia, and rheumatism, being then quite a cripple. But being requested by the bishop I set out on horseback, and rode about four or five hundred miles in much pain, and came again to my mother conference. I traveled seven years under the rule that allowed a preacher sixty-four dollars a year, including all marriage fees and presents, from a cravat down to a pair of stockings. I think our bishops were under the same rule. The last time I saw this rule imposed was at the Baltimore Conference, held at the Stone Chapel in May, 1800. In my mind I yet see the sainted Wilson Lee hand over his fees and presents. True, our traveling expenses were allowed if we could get them. The world never saw a more disinterested, cross-bearing, and self-sacrificing set of ministers than the early Methodist preachers. Nothing but a deep and abiding conviction of duty could induce them to volunteer in such a work. In those days the Methodists believed in a special call to the work of the ministry. The notion, shall I teach or preach, choose the study of law or Gospel, medicine or divinity, did not then prevail; but rather, shall I abandon my calling, whatever it may be, and enter the ministry, when persecutions, hardships, excessive labors, and poverty, and perhaps a premature death in some obscure cabin, stared them in the face. It was necessary to be constrained by the love of Christ and a tender concern for perishing sinners to enter this important work. Yes, some might say, 'A woe is hanging over my bead, and I dare not disobey without periling my present [and] future happiness.' But the Church also lost the itinerant labors of many able and worthy ministers for the want of provision for families. I served it (with the exception of a few months) forty-two years; thirty-two years in a single life, for I had not the heart to subject a wife to the privations, poverty, and hardships of those days. For the last twenty-six years I have been on the superannuated list. My claim on the conference funds was two hundred dollars per annum. The deficiency has been near three thousand dollars. But, thank God, although my means are limited, I have not been in real want of any necessary or good thing. I am often sorrowful, yet can always rejoice. I am striving by grace to be a contented and happy old man, waiting patiently in my pilgrim's rest till I shall hear the call, 'Come up to that higher rest prepared for all God's weary pilgrims.' "

He was born in Frederick city, Md., April 23, 1709, and joined the Methodists about his twentieth year. He met soon after Francis McCormick, another memorable name, as we shall hereafter see. "I did not hesitate," says Smith, "to tell him seriously my whole and sole object in joining the Church, as he called it. He professed to be a Universalist, and pleaded for the doctrine. I told him I had tried to believe it, but I found it would not do. I did not believe it was true. 'Well,' said he, 'how do you feel, anyhow?' I said, 'Bad enough,' and tried to tell him my state as well as I could. He took me by the hand, and said, 'Farewell, I expect I shall join too after a while,' and went back into the house. He felt and looked serious, which was noticed by a playful and mischievous fellow, who played a trick on him. This so enraged McCormick that he would have thrown the man headforemost into a large fire (for he was a powerful man) if he had not been prevented. Strange to tell, both these men got converted shortly after this. I think it was that day two weeks McCormick went to the meeting, was powerfully awakened, joined the society, and that night began to pray in his family. The other was converted at my father's. McCormick became a leader of a class, an exhorter, and finally a local preacher, and was a pioneer in the West. In the fall of 1779 I found him on the banks of the Little Miami, opening the way for the traveling preachers. He became my constant companion and true yoke-fellow while I remained at home."

Smith had not yet attained peace of mind, though a Methodist; he was waiting, in much mental distress, for some of those demonstrative experiences which prevailed around him, but of which his calm temperament was not susceptible. "My dear father," he says, "took notice of my distress, and took an opportunity of saying to me, one day when we were alone, 'My son, what is the cause of your trouble of mind?' for he saw the change in my conduct, and had reason to believe that I had experienced a change of heart. I told him I wanted the Lord to convert my soul. He asked me if I knew what conversion was, and how it was obtained; and explained to me, that a sinner is justified 'by grace through faith, and through faith alone.' While he was preaching faith to me the glorious plan, of salvation was opened to my mind; a plan so well suited to my condition. I believed with the heart unto righteousness, and stepped into the liberty of the children of God. My distress gave way, and love and joy flowed into my soul. I believed God was reconciled to me in Christ Jesus our Lord."

Following the custom of the Methodists of that day, he forthwith began to visit the families of his neighborhood, "mostly the poor." "After my day's labor," he writes, "was done, I mounted my horse, and rode three or four miles on such visits. Before my conversion I could not sing a single tune of any kind; but I had now learned by ear a few hymn tunes. Sometimes serious persons would be invited when they knew I was coming. One evening when I was on one of these visits, I found the house nearly full of people. I was much alarmed, and knew not what to do. However, as they all seemed serious, I talked to them, sung and prayed with them, and talked again, and wept over them; and we had a weeping time, and I believe serious impressions were made on the minds of the most of them. Thus, with almost no intention on my part, I was led to exhort, and some time after this a permit was given me to do so."

An exhorter in those days soon became a preacher. Smith's friend, McCormick, had now become an ardent Methodist, and went forth with him to hold their first public meeting. It was at "Davenport's Meeting-house," in the wilderness of Western Maryland, and was a characteristic scene. "We found," writes Smith, "the lower part of the house full of people, and some in the gallery. There was no light but on the pulpit, and that was high; so we had to ascend the pulpit to see how to read a hymn. It was a trembling time with me, and no better with my companion. I opened the meeting. One poor sinner cried out for mercy under the prayer. I tried to exhort, but was, as I thought, amazingly embarrassed, and sat down in great confusion and distress of mind; for I felt as if I had done more harm than I should ever do good, and prayed to the Lord to forgive my presumption, and I never would do the like again. The poor woman was still crying for mercy. Brother McCormick gave a lively exhortation, and seemed to have great liberty, and concluded with singing and prayer. I was still so mortified that I wished to get out of the meeting-house and hide myself. But the people all seemed to be serious, and sat down, and some looked at the woman in distress. Presently Brother McCormick began to sing, 'Come on, my partners in distress,' in great spirit, for he was a fine singer, and the soul-melting power of the Lord came down upon us, and it was felt through all the house. My mind was relieved in a moment, and I soon found myself on a bench exhorting the people, and we had a most glorious time. This was a log meeting-house, and I had hauled the first log to it; and this was the first pulpit I ever opened my mouth in.

In 1793 he was licensed to preach, and began his itinerant career on Berkeley circuit, Virginia In the next year he was received on trial in the conference, and sent beyond the Alleghenies; he thus took his place among the founders of Methodism in the valley of the Mississippi, where we shall hereafter meet him with his friend McCormick, both doing heroic service.

The name of McKendree has already appeared in our narrative compromised with that O'Kelly, but speedily redeemed. William McKendree was destined to be the fourth bishop of the Methodist Episcopal Church, a chief founder of the denomination in the West, a preacher of transcendent power, an ecclesiastical administrator of scarcely rivaled ability, and a man of the saintliest character.

He was born in King William county, Va., July, 1757, of upright parents, who trained him carefully in the faith of the English Church, then the established religion of the colony. The morals of his youth were nearly perfect; he could remember to have sworn but one profane oath in his life, though the vice was fashionable all around him; but he later discovered, he says, by reading the Holy Scriptures, that his "heart was deceitful and desperately wicked." He was a youth of great sensibility, vivacity, and energy; vigorous in mind and body. He took up arms for the Revolution, served in the army several years, attained the rank of adjutant, and was present at the surrender of Cornwallis. The year 1757 was signalized, as we have seen, by extraordinary religious interest in Virginia, especially on the noted Brunswick circuit; McKendree, then thirty years of age, lived on that circuit. Under the ministry of John Easter, famous for his eloquence and usefulness, his conscience was effectually awakened. "My convictions," he says, "were renewed. They were deep and pungent. The great deep of the heart was broken up. Its deceit and desperately wicked nature was disclosed; and the awful, the eternally ruinous consequences, clearly appeared. My repentance was sincere. I became willing, and was desirous to be saved on any terms. After a sore and sorrowful travail of three days, which were employed in hearing Mr. Easter, and in fasting and prayer, while the man of God was showing a large congregation the way of salvation by faith, with a clearness which at once astonished and encouraged me, I ventured my all upon Christ. In a moment my soul was relieved of a burden too heavy to be borne, and joy instantly succeeded sorrow. For a short space of time I was fixed in silent adoration, giving glory to God for his unspeakable goodness to such an unworthy creature."

Still later he studied with grateful interest the Methodist doctrine of sanctification, and sought to realize it in his own spiritual life. "Eventually," he writes, "I obtained deliverance from unholy passions, and found myself possessed of ability to resist temptation, to take up and bear the cross, and to exercise faith and patience, and all the graces of the Spirit, in a manner before unknown to me."

His superior character and abilities soon led his brethren to believe that he should devote himself to the ministry, but his self-distrust shrunk at the suggestion. Easter induced him to accompany him on his circuit; but, after some attempts to preach, he returned home, fearful that he had run before he was called. Philip Cox was appointed to the Mecklenburg circuit, by the next conference, and, at the same session, Easter, who knew McKendree's capacities better than his modesty allowed him to estimate them himself; had him received on probation and placed under the care of Cox, though he had not yet been licensed as a local preacher. Cox was a man of flaming zeal and indomitable energy, and bore along his diffident colleague, but the latter proceeded deliberately. "I went," he says, "immediately to the circuit to which I was appointed, relying more on the judgment of experienced ministers, in whom I confided, than on any clear conviction of my call to the work; and when I yielded to their judgment I firmly resolved not to deceive them, and to retire as soon as I should be convinced that I was not called of God, and to conduct myself in such a manner that, if I failed, my friends might be satisfied it was not for want of effort on my part, but that their judgment was not well founded. This resolution supported me under many doubts and fears — for entering into the work of a traveling preacher neither removed my doubts nor the difficulties that attended my labors. Sustained by a determination to make a full trial, I resorted to fasting and prayer, and waited for those kind friends who had charge and government over me to dismiss me from the work. But I waited in vain. In this state of suspense my reasoning might have terminated in discouraging and ruinous conclusions, had I not been comforted and supported by the kind and encouraging manner in which I was received by aged and experienced brethren, and by the manifest presence of God in our meetings, which were frequently lively and profitable. Sometimes souls were convicted and converted, which afforded me considerable encouragement, as well as the union and communion with my Saviour in private devotion, which he graciously afforded me in the intervals of my very imperfect attempts to preach his gospel. In this way I became satisfied of my call to the ministry, and that I was moving in the line of my duty."

He hardly escaped total discomfiture in this first trial. At one of his appointments, after singing and prayer, he took his text, and attempted to look at his audience; but such was his embarrassment that he could not lift his eyes from the Bible till he finished his sermon. After the sermon his host, at the appointment, left the house, supposing the preacher would follow him; but not seeing him, he returned to the church, and there found him seated on the lowest step of the pulpit stairs, his face covered with his hands, looking forlorn and dejected, as if he had not a friend on earth. He invited him to go home with him. McKendree said, in a mournful tone, "I am not fit to go home with anybody." He accompanied Easter to the conference, still agitated with doubts and anxiety. While alone and profoundly sad in the parlor where he lodged, an aged minister came in, walked up, and took him in his arms. "Brother," he said, "my mind is powerfully impressed that God has a great work for you to do, and I believe the impression is from the Lord. Don't start from the cross — take it up — go to the work, and be faithful!" While pronouncing these words the tears ran down the old man's cheeks, and he left young McKendree with his mind greatly moved." [4] The history of the Church through many years has recorded the result.

He made full proof of his ministry, and was successively appointed to Cumberland, Portsmouth, Amelia, and Greensville circuits; to the latter as preacher in charge.

He was long under the powerful influence of O'Kelly, who was his presiding elder. McKendree did not know Asbury intimately enough to qualify, in his own mind, the charges made against him by O'Kelly; he yielded to the influence of his popular and ardent presiding elder, and, with Rice Haggardy, sent in his resignation to Asbury. The indiscretion was brief; however; it does not appear in the Conference Minutes, there being no interruption in his appointments, for at the next conference he was designated to Norfolk and Portsmouth. Regretting his sudden error, he resolved to ascertain, from personal acquaintance, the real character of Asbury, and for this purpose accompanied the bishop in his travels. He became satisfied that O'Kelly had misrepresented him, and resumed his work with a devotion which never again wavered. Before the year had passed Asbury removed him to Petersburg. On his southern tour of 1794 the bishop took him to South Carolina, and appointed him to the Union Circuit; the next year he was back again in Virginia, on Bedford Circuit; but before the year closed he was sent to the Greenbrier Circuit, among the Allegheny Mountains, and thence to the Little Levels, on Kanawha River, the remotest point of the Virginia Conference. "Surely," remarks his biographer, "this was itinerancy in such a manner as would frighten many of his followers in this day; but such was the zeal of the preachers then, that they delighted in the most self-denying labors." [5]

In 1795 his appointment was on Botetourt Circuit, still on the frontier, west of the Blue Ridge, for Asbury had discovered in him the qualifications of a pioneer and founder. He had four circuits under his care, traveling on each of them a quarter of a year. During the remainder of the century he traveled large districts as presiding elder, one of them extending along the Potomac, in Maryland and Virginia, and reaching from the Chesapeake to the Alleghenies. He had now become one of the leading men of the Church. He was nearly six feet high, with a robust frame, weighing about one hundred and sixty pounds, of extraordinary strength and activity, fair complexion, black hair and blue eyes. "When calm and silent, there was the expression of deep thought upon his countenance sometimes approaching even to that of care; but whenever he spoke, his eyes would kindle up, and a smile, like that of pleasant recognition, would cover his face, which was the outcropping of a kind and benevolent heart." [6]

His intellect was quick and keen, but calm and singularly observant, so that nothing "that came in sight escaped his notice." As a man of order he was almost fastidious; "every thing must be in its place, and all things done at the proper time." This precision marked even his apparel; he dressed in the simple Quaker-like garb of his brethren of the ministry, and though made of the homespun stuff of the frontier, it was a model of neatness. An authority who knew him through most of his public life says: "His intellect, as a whole, was bright, and his thoughts diamond-pointed. He never said foolish things — never weak, never even common things. There was thought in all his words, and wisdom in all his thoughts. He was the man for the times and the age in which he lived, leading in triumph the Church in the wilderness, like Abraham leading his son to the mount of vision. I shall never see his like again. He was communicative, companionable, and sympathizing. There was no coldness, coarseness, or selfishness about him. Without effort, he found his way to the confidence and esteem of every one, old and young, black and white, rich and poor. His heart was always in the lead, so that a stranger was first impressed with the goodness of the man and the purity of his purpose — a natural draft upon his confidence which he was sure to honor. This point once gained, his great wisdom never failed to command respect. As a pulpit orator; his excellency consisted mainly in his power of analysis. In this respect, I doubt if I ever heard his superior. He was not wanting in description and pathos. In declamation he did not often indulge, though he had considerable power in that direction; but in argument he was overwhelming. He was perfectly natural and easy, with not much action, unless when greatly excited; and then every gesture spoke. His enunciation was good, his voice fine and full — the lowest tones of it could be heard throughout the congregation; still there vas a slight natural defect in his utterance, which consisted in his occasionally hesitating or dwelling upon a word. Yet he managed this defect so handsomely that it became an ornament, from the fact that he rested or made his swell on the most important word in the sentence, so that it had the effect of a well-directed emphasis. His sermons were generally short, particularly in the last years of his ministry, and gave evidence of being greatly condensed. His public prayers were simple, comprehensive, and brief; while they seemed to be the very essence of humility and breath of devotion." [7]

Asbury judged him fit to be the leader of the western itinerancy. He passed into the valley of the Mississippi, where a grand career awaited him. He here had charge of the Western Conference, comprehending Ohio, Kentucky, Tennessee, Virginia, (west of New River,) and a circuit in Illinois. We shall meet him often hereafter, and find him at last worthily at the head of the American Methodist hosts.

Enoch George had also now become an effective evangelist, destined, like McKendree, to lead his brethren as a bishop. He was born in 1767 or 1768, in Lancaster County, Va. [8] He was trained in the English Church of the province, but was addicted to the prevalent irreligion and dissipation of his neighborhood. Moving into Dinwiddie and Brunswick counties, he came under the ministry of Jarratt, who, he says, "would thunder at sinners of any and every description, many of whom would fly from his warning voice as from a house in flames; and even in their flight he would 'cry aloud and spare not.' He was made the instrument of turning many to righteousness, who experienced the humility, faith, hope, and charity of the Gospel, witnessing a good confession in life and death. He united 'them that believed,' and were of one heart, into classes, as our Wesley had done in England, and met them regularly; and such as he could not attend to, he gave up to the Methodist preachers, that they might be guided by their counsel, and afterward received into glory. He looked upon the world as his parish; and though his appointed sphere of labor was the parish of Bath, Dinwiddie County, yet duty prompted him to labor in the adjoining parishes, in 'the highway and hedges, calling sinners to repentance.' Under the ministry of this 'servant of the most high God,' I received my first religious impressions. Until this time, I and many of his parishioners were as ignorant of the plan of salvation, by faith in Jesus Christ, as though we had never heard the gospel." Removing to another locality, he says: "We had no religious services, either in my father's family, or in any that I visited. Our time was whiled away in fiddling and dancing. But, independently of any convictions received in the church or elsewhere, I remember the visits of the Spirit of God, enlightening, inciting, and alarming me. I continued in this situation for many months and only wanted suitable direction and encouragement. With these I should soon have found the pearl of great price. None of my acquaintance appeared to have any serious impressions, or if they had they were concealed, as my own were. At this time we heard that a certain Methodist preacher was traveling through a part of our parish and county, under whose labors hundreds were 'falling down,' and crying, 'Sir, what must we to be saved ' They 'repented, believed on the Lord Jesus Christ, and were converted.' By these reports my 'foolish heart' was hardened and 'darkened.' It was my delight to invent satirical epithets for these men, by which I and my companions were amused. In this way I continued to resist God, having founded my opinion on common report, until my father and stepmother were among the hearers of that venerable, holy, and useful minister, known to thousands in the south of Virginia, John Easter."

Easter was one of the "sons of thunder" in the early itinerancy. A contemporary preacher says: "John Easter, traveling Brunswick circuit, held a meeting at Mabey's Chapel, near a village called Hicksford, at which there was a great concourse of people, and while he was preaching several hundred persons fell flat upon the ground, struck down by the mighty power of God, and many of them were powerfully converted. The effects of that revival were exceedingly great, so much so, that the wretched sellers of alcohol lost nearly all their customers in the village. John Easter was an extraordinary man with regard to his faith and power in preaching the gospel of salvation. Like Jacob, he had power with God, and with men. When he preached or exhorted, great power fell upon the people, and many sinners were slain by the sword of the Spirit." [9] Such was the man whom George met. "When Mr. Easter spoke," he continues, "his word was clothed with power, and the astonished multitude trembled, and many fell down and cried aloud. Some fell near me, and one almost on me; and when I attempted to fly, I found myself unable. When my consternation subsided, I collected all my strength and resolution, and left my friends and the family, determining never to be seen at a Methodist meeting again. In this I was defeated. My father and his family, with many of my friends, remained in the assembly, while I 'fled from the presence of the Lord;' and they determined to seek and taste the heavenly gift, and be made partakers of the 'Holy Ghost.' On the next day there was to be another meeting in our vicinity, and as the people passed our house, one and another said to me, 'Come, and let us go up to the house of the Lord,' and hear this awful messenger of truth. I replied to their entreaties and inquiries by surly negatives; but my father interposed his authority, and commanded my attendance. I went, intending to steel my heart against conviction. However, it pleased God on this day 'to open my eyes, and turn me from darkness to light,' by the ministry of the word; and I was willing to become a Christian in 'the way of the Lord.' Day and night I cried for mercy. In this disconsolate state I wandered from meeting to meeting, and from valley to valley, 'seeking rest, finding none,' and almost ready to yield to despair, yet resolved never to renounce my hope of mercy, while it was written, 'The Lord will provide,' and 'His mercy endureth forever.' On one Sabbath, while thus 'tossed with tempests, and not comforted,' after meeting I retired to the woods, 'and there I received forgiveness of sins, by faith that is in Jesus Christ,' and the witness of his Spirit with mine. Then I tasted that the Lord is gracious; felt grace in my heart — God in man — heaven upon earth. I was in heavenly places in Christ Jesus, and all around me, each shrub, each flower, each leaf; spoke the praises of the Father, who 'made them all.' From that day until now I have never doubted my conversion to Christ, and adoption into his family. Shortly after my conversion I joined the Methodist society, 'choosing rather to suffer affliction with the people of God, than to enjoy the pleasures of sin,' and resolved, through the grace of God, to be 'faithful unto death.' I had everything to learn in the science of salvation. My leader 'was a faithful man, and feared God above many.' He was well qualified to take heed unto the flock of Christ. One instance of my leader's faithfulness to me I will mention. My father having some business of importance for me to transact, under his direction, soon after I joined the society, I was detained from class meeting; and when I had accomplished the work given me to do, my mind had become so careless that I would stay away whenever an opportunity offered. The leader, who had noticed my remissness, said nothing to me on the subject in the class-room; but when the meeting had concluded, he took me out, and told me of my fault between him and me alone, dealing with me tenderly, but faithfully and effectually; for, from that time, as long as I was a member of a class, I never voluntarily neglected this means of grace. I pray God to give us universally such leaders. Immediately after my conversion, with the consent of my father and mother, I erected a family altar, and 'called upon the name of the Lord' in our house. Though I wept and trembled under it, I endured the cross, being satisfied with the constant conviction that it was my duty. After this, for some time, I prayed in families that desired it, and assisted my teacher in prayer meetings at the school. Soon my burden was increased, for my assistance was demanded in the public prayer meetings, and I thought it better for me to stay away, than injure so good a cause by my feeble performances."

His brethren encouraged him, however, and warned him that it was his duty to "exhort" the people. "The circuit preacher," he continues, "having appointed a watchnight, they induced him to call on me for a 'word of exhortation.' Of this I was aware before the meeting began, and by going late, and hiding myself; I hoped to escape. In this fancied concealment I sat and listened to the sermon, which was no sooner concluded than the preacher called for me by name. This so affrighted me that I sat down upon the floor; but he continued calling, until an acquaintance answered that I was there, and a friend led me to the table, where, with trembling and weeping, I exhorted. This was the beginning of my ministry."

Philip Cox called him out upon a circuit. We have already witnessed his introduction to Asbury by Cox; the bishop sent him with a letter to a preacher who was breaking up the fallow ground and forming a circuit, at the head waters of the Catawba and Broad Rivers, in North Carolina, three hundred miles distant. "I was astonished and staggered," says George, "at the prospect of this work, but resorted to my tried friend, Cox, who animated me with his advice and directions; and I set out with his benedictions, and the blessing of the Lord." "Thus," he says, "I began my itinerancy, and thus, the Church should be continually reminded, its greatest historic men in America, if not in Europe, began their ministerial careers. It was a necessity of their times; circumstances and their Bibles educated them, and made them "masters in Israel." Asbury knew that, if anything could be made of the "beardless boy" presented to him by Cox, the heroic work of the frontier would make him. He was thus made an evangelical giant, and a worthy successor of the bishop.

He was severely tested in his remote field — a "vast, tract of country, among the most stupendous mountains of North America." He was diffident, and easily discouraged. He thought of escaping home, but had not money enough for the expenses of the journey; he engaged in a school as teacher, to earn the necessary funds, but was defeated. "In addition," he writes, "my clothes were almost worn out, and my money was expended, so that I could not go home with any credit. These things urged me on. I saw the snare into which I had well nigh fallen, and abhorred the idea of relinquishing my post dishonorably. In this state of things I continued my course, wondering how the people could bear with my weakness, and adoring the Lord, who 'comforted me with the exceeding comfort of the holy Ghost,' and poured out his Spirit upon those to whom I ministered, causing his work to prosper in my hands. Methodism in the circuit had to press through crowds of opposers, but God made his word 'like mighty winds or torrents fierce.' Finding that my gifts and acquirements, as I thought, were not adapted to the class of people among whom I labored, I wrote to Bishop Asbury, desiring him to remove me. To this he replied in a pleasant and affectionate manner, saying, 'It was good for me, and all others, to bear the yoke in youth; that itinerant labors must be hard if properly performed; and that it was better to become inured to poverty and pain, hunger and cold, in the days of my youth; that when I was old and gray-headed the task would be easy.' This reasoning satisfied me, and since then I have submitted to my appointments cheerfully."

It was in 1789 that Cox called him out; in 1790 he was admitted to the Conference on trial and sent to Pamlico Circuit, North Carolina; in 1791 to Caswell, where he had great success; but, in accordance with the "itinerancy" of the times, he was soon dispatched again to Pamlico circuit, "embracing as sickly a region as any in North Carolina." "This sudden transition," he says, "from the foot of the Black Mountain to the margin of the sea, tried my faith. Thus I was made partaker in the afflictions of my brethren."

We trace him further to Roanoke and back again to Caswell, where he was associated with "the good and great Henry Hill, who had been intended for the bar, and had nearly completed his professional education, when God laid in his claim, and sent him to call sinners to repentance, and [to] perfect his saints. He was a star in God's right hand, to illuminate the Churches. In season, out of season, to all men, of all ranks, he diffused the light and influence of evangelical truth. It was my privilege to spend one year with him, and it proved the happiest I ever enjoyed. The zeal of the Lord's house animated his heart, and in every society a flame was kindled which 'many waters could not quench.' "

In 1792 he traveled Gifford County, North Carolina, where "it pleased the great Head of the Church to revive his work gloriously." He attended the General Conference of 1792, and witnessed afterward the schism of O'Kelly, as it desolated the neighborhood of his "relatives in Virginia, many of whom joined him." "I had sorrow upon sorrow," he writes. The secession spread into his North Carolina field, and required his utmost wisdom. In 1793 Asbury called, in a North Carolina Conference, for preachers for the further south, but they hesitated. "I was grieved," writes George, "to think the preachers so limited in their views that none would offer to go from North to South Carolina. I consulted my special friends on the propriety of my offering to go if others would not; they labored to dissuade me from it, yet my purpose was fixed to go, if no senior preacher volunteered. When the conference was about closing, Asbury complained of the local views of the preachers, and I tremblingly said, 'Here am I; send me.' We set off, and when the expenses were paid, nothing was left. I had only time to travel from Virginia and North Carolina, the scenes of O'Kelly's division, to South Carolina, to meet with another schism of the same spirit, carried on with the same epithets; but Hammet and his party disappeared in a few years."

He was rapidly tossed about the vast field: in 1794 to the Great Pee Dee Circuit; in 1795 to Edisto, and the same year he was three months in Charleston. Of these years he says: "My labors were of the most painful kind; in a desert land, among almost impassable swamps, and under bilious diseases of every class, which unfitted me for duty in Charleston, or among the hospitable inhabitants of the 'Pine Barrens.' In the midst of all this my mind was stayed upon God, and kept in perfect peace. Prospects in general were discouraging. At the second conference of my laboring in this region, Bishop Asbury inquired whether we knew of the conversion of any soul within the bounds of the conference during the year; and to the best of my recollection the whole of us together could not remember one! At this Conference [1794] nearly all the men of age, experience, and talents located. I was appointed a presiding elder, and besought the preachers and people to unite 'as one man,' and seek by fasting and prayer a revival of the work of the Lord in the midst of the years of declension and spiritual death. The Lord heard, and the 'displays of his power and glory' were so manifest that nearly two thousand members were added to the district in a few months. I will here mention a circumstance which explains in some measure the nature of itinerant operations. At the conference just spoken of, Mr. Asbury was much concerned for the Church, and inquired how many preachers were going to the ensuing General Conference. In those days all who wished could attend. He ascertained that nearly all expected to go. He then said to me, with apparent anguish and great emphasis, 'You must stay on the district, and keep house.' This was a painful injunction, as I had been from home several years; but I intended to submit. When the revival commenced, all the preachers except one declined going, and he said he would stay unless I went. We two set off to represent South Carolina. When I met the bishop and offered an apology, he smiled and retired. From this I hoped he would not object to my continuing in the northern states, as it was evident a southern climate would ruin my constitution. But, when I made known my wishes, he refused to grant them. I made a second application through his traveling companion, Henry Hill, but with no better success. Finding I must return, I submitted, and started with appointments for Dr. Coke, from Richmond, Va., to Charleston S. C. Having accomplished this, I returned and met the doctor, nearly two hundred miles from Charleston, and traveled with him into the city. In him I found excellences not common to man. His true Christian courtesy taught him to treat the poor with respect, and to show the same care for the souls of the poor slaves as for those of their rich masters. In Charleston we held our conference. I understood from Bishop Asbury that I was appointed for Georgia. This was another trial, as my late district was in peace and prosperity, while Georgia was full of contention and strife. In this case remonstrance would have been as fruitless as in the other. I prayed for grace to bear the cross, and entered upon my duties. After all my 'fear and trembling,' my religious enjoyments in that year have not been surpassed in any year of my itinerancy: Religion revived in almost every part of the district. The prosperity of the work and my appointment were the 'Lord's doings, and marvelous in our eyes.' But this ended my labors in the South Carolina Conference. My exertions were so great in this day of visitation that I injured a blood vessel, which, with my old companion, the bilious fever, brought me near to the gates of death. I wrote to the bishop, who directed me to come on to the north. I did so as expeditiously as my disease would allow, and meeting the Virginia Conference, was appointed for Brunswick Circuit. When I ascertained the labor required I declined entering it, and after a few months' rest, accompanied Mr. Asbury to New York; but he, finding my health still inadequate to the labor, gave me a further respite, and advised me to visit the Warm Springs in Berkeley County, Va. I did so; but finding no relief, I went to the Sulphur Springs near Newtown, Frederick County. Here I obtained relief from the spasms in my side, and lest I should be burdensome to my friends, I opened a school, the profits of which paid my board, and secured a little money to help me on to the Virginia Conference. Finding my strength still insufficient for the duties of the itinerancy, I asked for and obtained a location, being determined never to burden the cause I could not assist."

He resumed his itinerant labors in 1799 with restored health and increased zeal, and thenceforward, with a single intermission, we shall see him passing through the denomination like "a flame of fire" for nearly thirty years, when he fell triumphantly in death in the highest office of the ministry.

Like McKendree, he was large in stature, nearly six feet high, stout, with a tendency to corpulence, and full of energy; with a military erectness while standing, inclining forward when moving, with his hands usually thrown behind him, and habitually quick in his motions. his form was imposing by its expression of strength, his face broad, forehead prominent and expanded, nose large, eyes blue and deeply set, eyebrows dark and projecting, hair black, tinged with gray, and carelessly but gracefully hanging about his neck; his complexion sallow, the effect of his sufferings from the miasma of the South. His whole person, in fine, was stamped with character. His intellect was clear and sure, if not brilliant; calm, though always energetic; quiet energy pervaded all his acts and words. "He thought rapidly, spoke fluently, decided promptly, and permitted nothing in which he was engaged to hang heavily upon his hands. He detested tardiness, as the murderer of time, and never failed to signify his disapprobation of a dull and languid course of proceeding in the transaction of business, or of unimportant discussions calculated to retard its progress. Wherever he was, everything with which he had any connection was destined to feel the impulse of his propelling energies." But it was in his religious life that his characteristics shone most conspicuously. His piety was profound and tender, and glowed till he seemed at times incandescent with divine light. He was among the most effective preachers of his day. An extraordinary pathos melted his audiences and himself; and he often had to pause in his sermons and ask his hearers to join him in utterances of thanksgiving, while, with tears streaming down his weather-worn face, he would raise his spectacles, and, with uplifted eyes and hands, offer praise to God, bearing aloft his thronged congregations, thrilled, weeping, and adoring. The elder Methodists throughout the country still recall him with veneration as the "weeping prophet" of their episcopacy.

Few if any names of Methodist evangelists were more venerated in the South toward the end of the last and the beginning of the present centuries than that of Hope Hull. A man of sterling abilities and character, his influence became general. A singularly persuasive eloquence, of rich tradition in both New England and the extreme South still speaks with wonder, made him one of the chief among the many eloquent itinerants of those days; and great purity and firmness of character; and soundness and largeness of mind, combined with dignity and simplicity of manners, secured him more than popularity, universal respect and confidence. He was born on the Eastern Shore of Maryland in 1768, joined the Methodists in Baltimore in his youth, and was received into the Baltimore Conference in 1785, and sent to Salisbury Circuit, N. C. His rare talents gave him immediate success, and for two years he was one of the principal founders of the Church in North and South Carolina and Georgia. The unfortunate Beverly Allen had been sent to Georgia as early as 1785, but he formed few if any societies in his first labors there. John Major and Thomas Humphries; reached the colony the next year and effectively founded Churches in Burke County, and penetrated as far west Washington, in Wilkes County. Hull was sent to Washington in 1788, the first time that the name of the circuit appears in the Minutes. He is therefore supposed to be the founder of Methodism in that region. "He was in many places the first Methodist preacher the people ever saw, and to many individuals the first preacher of any denomination. It was chiefly through his exertions that the first respectable brick building was erected in Washington, designed to be used as an academy." [10]

He was later appointed to introduce Methodism into Savannah, where he labored energetically, but found insuperable prejudices against the memory of Wesley, whose residence there had not been forgotten. The proceedings of the American Conferences on slavery were also known in the city, and cited against the denomination with fierce hostility. Hull was violently persecuted, and menaced by mobs. He took refuge on Burke Circuit, where he labored with better success. He was singularly effective in prayer, and anecdotes are told of the sick and the apparently dying being suddenly restored under his supplications. He sometimes used this power very boldly. On his way to one of his appointments he was invited, as a traveler, into a house where a ball was being held. "He entered, and when, soon after, he was requested to dance, he took the floor, and remarked aloud, 'I never engage in any kind of business without first asking the blessing of God upon it, so let us pray.' Quick as thought the preacher was on his knees praying in the most earnest manner for the souls of the people, that God would open their eyes to see their sin and danger, and convert them from the error of their ways. All present were amazed and overwhelmed; many fled in terror from the house; while others, feeling the power of God in their midst, began to plead for mercy and forgiveness. After the prayer he said, 'On today four weeks I expect to preach at this house,' and quietly retired. On the appointed day the inhabitants for miles around were assembled, and heard one of the most eloquent and powerful sermons that ever fell on human ears. From the work begun in the ballroom a most powerful revival of religion extended in every direction, and many were added to the Church."

Asbury sent him to New England, where he effectively co-operated for a year with Lee and his little band. In 1793 he was back again, laying siege to Savannah, and traveling the Savannah Circuit. In 1794 he was Asbury's traveling companion, sharing the adventurous toils of the bishop in many a hard field. Toward the close of our present period his health and domestic circumstances compelled him to locate; but the location of Methodist preachers in that day was more a limitation than a cessation of their itinerancy; they preached usually more, every week, than regular Methodist preachers in modern times, and their labors extended through all the region round about their homes, twenty, thirty, or more miles. Hope Hull, though brought up a mechanic, had too large and thoughtful a mind not to appreciate the importance of education. He had educated himself on his circuits, studying not only his own, but the Latin language and literature. His observation of the opening country convinced him that, next to Christianity, education was the great requisite of the times; that the evident future of the young nation rendered this want imperative. He saw that Methodism was laying the moral foundations of much of the republic, but he saw also that the Church should rear on these foundations structures, fortifications of education. He threw himself therefore back upon one of his remote early circuits in Wilkes County, Ga., and with the advice of Asbury, opened an academy. *[Asbury, however, especially after Cokesbury College was twice destroyed by fire, became convinced that it was NOT the mission to Methodism to rear up educational institutions. — DVM] He only changed his field and plan of labor. "At a time when scarcely any one who was qualified would submit to the drudgery of teaching, he commenced a school composed of pupils of both sexes, and of all ages from infancy to manhood, and thus he divided his time between teaching and preaching."

The children of many Methodist families, and some Methodist preachers, were trained under his roof. Still later he moved to Athens, Ga., and helped to found the state university there, the first building of which had not yet been completed. He became the most active member of its Board of Trustees, and continued such till his death. Perhaps no man did more for the prosperity of that institution. A part of the time he was its acting president. Meanwhile he was a powerful and renowned preacher, a standard-bearer of his denomination in Georgia. His "whole life was emphatically spent in doing good. He was a man of great muscular strength and physical courage, and was restless if not occupied. His health was not robust, and for several years before his death it was often interrupted by disorders of the digestive organs. He totally abstained from the use of wine and spirituous liquors when the whole current of fashion and example moved in the opposite direction."

A veteran southern Methodist preacher, [11] who intimately knew him, says: "To help rescue the name of Hope Hull from oblivion I feel to be a reasonable and holy duty. Indeed I have long felt that there is an undischarged obligation resting upon our Church in regard to the ministerial character of his eminent man. He was among the pioneers of Methodism in Georgia, and in the vigor of his manhood, both as to his physical and mental prowess, his fame was almost world-wide. I well remember that, in the days of my youth, he used to be known under the coarse but graphic appellation the 'Broad ax,' an honorary distinction conferred on him because of the mighty power that attended his ministry. My eyes first fell on him as he sat near the pulpit of a small log chapel called 'Hull's Meeting-house,' in Clarke County, near Athens. It was a memorable day in my own history. I had longed to see, and now I feared to meet him. It was my second year in the ministry, and, above all, my fear of criticism made his presence dreadful to me. The wonderful reports which had reached me made me look upon him rather as an august than a fatherly being, and, when I saw him, there was nothing in the appearance of the 'real' to relieve my mind of the dread of the 'ideal' man. His head was rather above the medium size, his hair curling, just sprinkled with gray, and each lock looking as if living under a self-willed government. His face was an exceedingly fine one; he had a well developed forehead, a small, keen blue eye, with a heavy brow, indicative of intense thought. His shoulders were unusually broad and square, his chest wide, affording ample room for his lungs, a circumstance of great value to a speaker, who drew so freely on his deep, strong voice; his body was unusually long and large in proportion to his lower limbs, his hair originally black, and his voice full, flexible, and capable of every variety of intonation, from the softest sounds of sympathy and persuasion to the thunder tones of wrath. Many ignorant sinners charged him with having learned their secrets, and of using the pulpit to gratify himself in their exposure; and when convinced of their mistake, have doubted whether he were not a prophet. His oratory was natural, his action being the unaffected expression of his inmost mind. Not only was there an entire freedom from everything like mannerism, but there was great harmony between his gesticulation and the expression of his countenance. He seemed, in some of his finest moods of thought, to look his words into you. He was one of nature's orators. In many of his masterly efforts his words rushed upon his audience like an avalanche, and multitudes seemed to be carried before him like the yielding captives of a stormed castle. I was very intimate with him for about ten years; stayed in his house, and talked and prayed and praised with him. At that time he was a local, I an itinerant, preacher; but often did he leave home and business and travel with me for days. Together we preached; nor did Jonathan and David love each other more. All my intimacy with him only served to multiply evidences of his exalted worth. Grave and guarded as he was, there were moments when he entertained his friends with the recital of thrilling incidents in his history connected with the more rustic forms of society with which he had been conversant. There was in many of his impromptu remarks the appearance of almost prophetic appositeness. When he was a circuit missionary, sixty years ago, after preaching one day, he proceeded to meet the little class, and having gone through the names of the class paper, he approached an elderly man sitting afar off; and inquired after his soul's welfare. The old gentleman, after taking sufficient time to digest his answer, said, 'I am like old Paul, when I would do good, evil is present with me.' To which Mr. Hull replied, 'I am afraid you are like old Noah too, get drunk sometimes.' It was a center shot, for the poor old man was a drunkard. Many such cutting remarks, made in utter ignorance of the persons to whom they were addressed, went to prove that he possessed a power of discerning spirits above most other men." He survived till 1818, when he died, saying, "God has laid me under marching orders, and I am ready to obey."

The two brothers, Coleman and Simon Carlisle, were successful evangelists of the South. The former joined the itinerancy in 1792, and was sent to Broad River Circuit; in 1793, to Tar River; 1794, Broad River. At the end of this year he located; but in 1801 he rejoined the Conference, and was sent to Broad River; in 1802, to Saluda; in 1803, to Sandy River. This year, compelled by domestic necessities, he again located; but he loved the itinerancy, and whenever he could leave his helpless family to travel he did so. In 1819 he again joined the Conference, and was appointed to Bush River Circuit. In the latter part of 1823 he "finally located, not from choice, but from absolute necessity." "He was," says one of his ministerial contemporaries, a poor man, with a sickly; though truly good and excellent wife, and quite a number of little boys and girls. I have known him, after returning home from preaching several miles distant, after supper, take the same horse (having but one) and plow with him by moonlight ' until nearly midnight, and then go off next morning to his appointments. He neither owned nor hired servants. O tell me not of the hardships of our itinerant brethren in the present day! In Carlisle's time there was no provision made for 'family expenses.' Every married preacher had to buy his corn and meat out of the small pittance of his disciplinary allowance, which, small as it was, was very frequently not received. In such cases the poor itinerant had to raise his bread and meat, and make a little, to school his children, by hard and incessant labors, with anxious watching thereunto. He was a very popular preacher, and when local, he would be sent for far and near to preach funeral sermons; and what is strange, passing strange, if for his long rides and good sermons he ever received a present to the amount of a picayune [Oxford Dict. picayune _n. 1 a small coin of little value, esp. a 5-cent piece. 2 an insignificant person or thing. _ adj. mean; contemptible; petty. — "picayunish" — DVM] I know not. He was a man of strong passions, by nature quite irritable, and his peculiar temperament was a matter of deep regret to him. Hence he used to say to me, that he believed an ounce of grace would go further with some than a pound would with others. But he was deeply pious, conscientious in his attention to closet and family worship, and by grace was enabled to subdue his natural passions, and to keep them in proper bounds. I never knew him thrown off his hinges in the pulpit but once. While preaching a woman sat right before him with a child, which kept up a constant squalling; about midway of his sermon he said, 'Do, sister, take that child out,' and down he sat, not rising again to finish his sermon. He was in general quite social and agreeable with all around him. He was in particular a great favorite with the young. To myself he was a father, brother, and sincere friend. I hope never to forget him. Carlisle lived to a good old age, 'and he died,' when, where, or how, some of his children and near neighbors may know; but, alas! the Church at large in South Carolina knows it not. Yet he was among the pioneers of Southern Methodism. He endured hardships as a good soldier of Christ. He often hungered and thirsted. He labored, working with his own hands: being reviled, he reviled not again; being persecuted, he suffered it; being defamed, he entreated. He endeavored, as far as in him lay, to preach Christ crucified to rich and poor, to white and colored, to young and old. The day of judgment will tell of many who were brought home to God and to glory through his instrumentality. Peace to his remains wherever they may lie!" [12]

It is a grateful privilege to rescue from oblivion the names of such laborers and sufferers for the Church, however sad may be our sense of the inadequacy of their record.

His brother, Simon Carlisle, preceded him in the ministry by two years, endured also the severest hardships of the itinerancy, and an additional and extraordinary trial, from which, however, he had at last one of those providential vindications which so often occur in the annals of English and American Methodism, and which may well inspire with hope all innocent sufferers. After having labored with humble but intrepid devotion on some of the hardest fields of the South, he was arrested before the Church, and expelled in 1794, and his name appears in the Minutes of that year branded with reproach as a fallen and outcast man. No affliction, no martyrdom could have been more appalling to a faithful Methodist preacher of those days of ministerial chivalry. The charge alleged against him was such as, if possible, to enhance the bitterness of his grief; by combining meanness with guilt, for it was theft! For two years the guiltless man bore, with bowed head, this great, and to him mysterious, sorrow; but his faith failed not. He had given offense by reproving a disturbance in one of his rude frontier congregations; under the provocation a young man went to his stopping place, placed a pistol in his saddle-bags, and the next day got out a search-warrant for him, making oath that he believed Carlisle had stolen his weapon. An officer hastened after him on his circuit, overtook him, and charged him with the crime. The astonished preacher, conscious of innocence, readily consented to have his saddle-bags searched. The pistol was found in them; he was thunderstruck; he knew not what to do, but calmly gave himself up to the officer. He was found guilty, and had no way to clear himself. Even the Church threw him off; but the criminal young man was cast on his death-bed. About an hour before he expired be frantically cried out, "I cannot die, I cannot die until I reveal one thing. Mr. Carlisle never stole that pistol; I myself put it in his saddle-bags." He then became calm, and so passed into eternity. Carlisle was restored to the ministry, and died in it with peace in 1838.

Such are a few of the "giants of those days" in the more southern field of Methodism. There were many similar men associated with them, whom we have heretofore noticed, of some of whom we have no adequate records, and others who will more appropriately come before us in other sections of the ecclesiastical field to which the later and larger portion of their lives was devoted.

Stephen G. Roszel was now a young itinerant in Virginia, but rising continually in public influence by his flaming zeal and strong talents. For more than fifty years he was to be a chieftain of the Church in Virginia and Maryland, conspicuous as a presiding elder, an able debater in the General Conference, a leader in annual conferences, a revivalist in the pulpit, preaching often with great power through an hour and a half or two hours; "a man of mark, exerting a wide and powerful influence in his denomination." [13] "He had," says one of his friends, "a ready command of thought and language, and as a debater had very few superiors. He never quailed before an opponent, and was never prevented by considerations of delicacy from saying anything that would tend to his discomfiture. He possessed the most indomitable perseverance; whatever object he might have in view he pursued it with untiring zeal, and subordinated every agency within his reach to its accomplishment. His commanding qualities as a debater gave him great influence on the floor of the General Conference, and there were few men of his day who had an eye and a hand more constantly or more effectively on the great interests of the Church than he. He was a large, portly man, and had a face indicative of the character which I have attributed to him." [14]

He was a member of every delegated General Conference from the first session till his death. His Conference commemorates him in its Minutes "as a man possessing singular courage, fortitude, constancy, and benevolence. As a preacher he was bold and uncompromising in declaring the whole counsel of God. Blessed with a strong mind, a ready elocution, and great physical power, he was well qualified to do the work of a Methodist traveling preacher." [15] He lived till 1841, when "he passed calmly and confidently, with the high and holy bearing of a Christian hero, to the final conflict, and when the hour had arrived for his departure, (speech having failed, but reason still remaining,) on being interrogated by one of his sons as to his prospect of entering into rest, he raised his hand, gave the sign, and passed to the bosom of his God."

Joshua Wells was also abroad in the southern field at this period, in the full vigor of his young manhood. An able and successful laborer, and regarded by the Church with peculiar reverence through a singularly long life, he was nevertheless so modest, if not morbidly self-diffident, as scarcely ever to have spoken or written anything respecting himself. He was born in Baltimore County in 1764, joined the itinerancy when twenty-five years of age, and died more than ninety-seven years old. He had traveled and preached in Virginia, Maryland, Delaware, New York, Pennsylvania, Massachusetts as far as Boston. He became at last the oldest living preacher whose name was on the roll of the itinerancy. He was dignified and robust in person, his features strongly marked, and yet benignant. His sermons were noted for their perspicuity and brevity, their masculine sense, clear and vigorous argumentation, and effect. He was distinguished as a disciplinarian. The only allusion to his life from his own pen which I have discovered is in the following sentences: "On the ninth of September, 1781, I believe God in mercy pardoned my sins, and converted my soul. From that time I have been striving to serve the Lord, to be useful to my fellow-men, and to stand prepared to meet death triumphantly. In June, 1789, I commenced my itinerant labors, in which I traveled and suffered much; but have been encouraged by these and similar words: 'As thy day is, so shall thy strength be.' " [16]

Philip Bruce was energetically spreading out the denomination during these years on vast districts, as presiding elder, from Northern Virginia to Charlestown, N. C., and to Western Georgia; Nelson Reed was traversing large districts in Maryland and Virginia; Tobias Gibson in the Carolinas, and Valentine Cook and John Cole in the wilds of Virginia, were preparing, by the discipline of severest labor and hardship, for their great achievements in the new regions beyond the mountains, whither John Kobler, Barnabas McHenry, Daniel Hitt, and other mighty men, had lately advanced from the same southern preparatory field. Thomas Scott, a memorable name in the West, was also there preparing for the same pioneer service, meanwhile leading into the Church, in Virginia, Edward Tiffin, afterward first governor of Ohio, a zealous preacher, and a founder, with Scott, of Methodism in the Northwestern territory. Pickering, Bostwick, and other worthies were preparing for similar expeditions to New England, the latter also destined to bear part in the trans-Allegheny triumphs of the Church. In short, southern Methodism, at this early period, presented a surprising array of strong men — men who have impressed their names on the history of both the South and West, and who deserve to live forever in the grateful memory of the American people, as the standard-bearers of Christian civilization along most of the southern and western frontier.

The Church had greatly extended in the South since the General Conference; no less than fourteen new circuits had been formed, reaching to the heart of Georgia, and into the Western mountains, across which not a few preachers were penetrating into the wilds of Kentucky and Tennessee. By the end of this period there were In Maryland 12,416 Methodists; in Virginia, 13,779; in North Carolina, 8,713; South Carolina, 3,659; Georgia, 1,174; aggregating nearly 40,000 south of Delaware, exclusive of Kentucky and Tennessee." [17] They amounted to considerably more than twice as many as were reported from all the rest of the denomination.

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ENDNOTES

1 Minutes, vol. i; Fflrth's Life of Abbott.

2 Minutes, 1796.

3 Published in a volume, "Recollections of an Old Itinerant." New York. 1854.

4 Rev. D. Devinne, In Wakeley's "Heroes," p. 101.

5 Life of McKendree, by Rev. B. St. J. Fry. New York: 1851.

6 Biog. Sketches, etc., p. 45. Nashville, Tenn.: 1858.

7 Rev. Dr. Green, in "Biogiaphical Sketches," etc.

8 Minutes 1829. He remarks, himself, that though Lancaster county is the first locality he can recollect, he is not certain of the time or place of his birth, owing to the epidemic spirit of emigration which kept his father unsettled during his childhood. Meth. Quart. Rev. 1830.

9 Rev. J. Patterson, in North Carolina Chr. Adv., June, 1857.

10 MS. of his son, Dr. Hull, cited in Sprague's Annals, p. 113.

11 Rev. Dr. Lovic Pierce.

12 Autobiography of Rev. J. Travis, p. 200. Nashville: 1856.

13 Rev. John Coleman, of the Protestant Episcopal Church. Sprague's Annals, p. 180.

14 Dr. Bangs, ibid., 180.

15 Minutes, 1841.

16 Letter of D. Creamer, Esq., of Baltimore, to the author.

17 Inclusive, however, of members west of the mountains, but within states lying chiefly east of them.

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