VOLUME 3 — BOOK V — CHAPTER XIII
METHODISM IN THE SOUTH, CONTINUED: 1796 — 1804

Prosperity of the Church — Great Revivals — Singular Conversion of Captain Burton — George Clark and Isaac Smith Pioneering — Strong Men of the South — George Dougherty — His Superior Talents — An Example — He is Mobbed and "Pumped" in Charleston — His Death — William Watters re-enters the Itinerancy — The Watters Family — William Gassaway — His Singular Conversion — Victory over an Enemy — He calls out Bishop Capers — Enoch George — William McKendree goes to the West — Tobias Gibson goes to the Southwest — William Ryland — His Eloquence — Chaplain to Congress — General Jackson — James Smith — Statistical View of Southern Methodism

Peace was now generally restored in the southern section of the Church, and its societies were rapidly growing. The Hammett schism had dwindled nearly away, and some of its pulpits were already occupied by the itinerants. The O'Kelly secession still occasionally disturbed the societies of Virginia, and O'Kelly published a second pamphlet in 1799; but the leaders of the denomination, after having sturdily defended it, now adopted the wise policy of letting the recusants [Oxford Dict. recusant = a person who refuses submission to an authority or compliance with a regulation — DVM] alone, and of pursuing quietly their accustomed labors, though they put upon record a statement of the facts of the controversy in an authorized reply to O'Kelly, from the pen of Snethen. It was "soft and defensive," says Asbury, "and as little offensive as possible." [1] Though the schism lingered, it gradually died from this period, and extraordinary "revivals" followed, not only in Virginia, but throughout the South. This renewed interest pervaded the whole city of Baltimore during the General Conference there in 1800, as will hereafter be noticed. Lee says it "began particularly in Old Town, where the people held meeting in a private house, and some of the preachers attended them in the afternoon of each day. The work then spread, and souls were converted in the different meeting-houses, and in different private houses, both by day and by night. Old Christians were wonderfully stirred up to cry to God more earnestly, and the preachers that tarried in town for a few days were all on fire. Such a time of refreshing from the presence of the Lord had not been felt in that town for some years. About two weeks after the close of the General Conference we held our Annual Conference at Duck Creek Crossroads, and a good many of the young converts and of the old Christians from Baltimore came over to the meeting. A wonderful display of the divine power was soon seen among the people, and many souls were brought into the liberty of the children of God in a short time. The Conference sat in a private room, while the local preachers, the young traveling preachers, and others were almost continually engaged in carrying on the meeting in the meeting-house, and in private houses. At one time the meeting continued without intermission for forty-five hours, which was almost two days and nights." [2]

During a week, through which this Conference continued, "there were but few hours together in which there was no one converted." "Many people, continues Lee, "were converted in private houses when by themselves, or when they were at prayer in the family. I believe I never saw before, for so many days together, such a glorious work of God, and so many people brought to the knowledge of God by the forgiveness of their sins. I think there were at least one hundred and fifty souls converted at that place in the course of the week. From that time and place the heavenly flame spread through the Eastern Shore of Maryland, and the lower counties of Delaware, in an uncommon manner. The preachers and people carried the fire with them to their different circuits and places of abode. Thousands will have cause to bless God for that Conference. I suppose the Methodist Connection hardly ever knew such a time of a general revival of religion, through the whole of their circuits, as they had about the latter part of the year 1800."

The excitement spread through most of Maryland and Virginia, and continued throughout the year. In 1801 it extended "greatly in most parts of the Connection," but prevailed chiefly in Maryland and Delaware. It was estimated that one thousand souls were converted on Baltimore District in the course of a few months. The revival overleaped the Western mountains, and we shall hereafter see that it prevailed in Kentucky and Tennessee like fire on the prairies. In Virginia Lee says that it was "remarkable to see what a number of young people who had been brought up by religious parents, were under serious impressions, and afterward happily converted."

On Northampton Circuit the labors of Thomas Smith, who will soon be more fully introduced to the reader, were signally successful. They provoked the opposition of "Churchmen," and an effort was made, by one of the clergy, to uproot the new "sect, everywhere spoken against," on the Eastern Shore of Virginia. He announced a public discourse against it, and a vast assembly gathered to hear him preach, as was said, the "funeral sermon of Methodism." Among his hearers was Captain Burton; a name then familiar in the gay circles of the community, but afterward historical in the local Church for important services. Burton was a tenacious Churchman, and extremely hostile to the new denomination. The reverend antagonist violently attacked Wesley and his whole system, and with apparent effect. "The next day," writes Smith, "I met with our much esteemed friend, Colonel W. Paramour, a member of long standing in the Methodist Episcopal Church, who gave me the outlines of the discourse, and remarked that he thought it would be expedient for Dr. Coke to return from England, and clear up Wesley's character, or we should be ruined as a Church. I told the colonel our cause was in the hands of God, and he would take care of it. Strange to tell, under this very sermon Captain Burton became so troubled that he could not rest day nor night, through fear that his minister might be wrong, and the Methodists right, after all. Three days having passed, and his trouble remaining, Mrs. Burton said to him, 'What is the matter with you? You have not been yourself since you came from church on Christmas day. What is the cause of your distress?' He told her that it was a fear that he and his minister were both wrong, and the Methodists, after all, were right. She advised him to send for a Methodist preacher to come and see him; but he objected, saying, 'How can I send for a people to come to my house whom I have so bitterly reviled?' She replied, 'Captain Burton, I have always thought the Methodists were the Lord's people, and if the Lord will forgive you, I am sure they will.' After having made up his mind to do as his wife advised, he sent me a note, requesting me to come and see him. At the time I received the note I knew Captain Burton only by character: that he was, to Methodism, a Saul of Tarsus. Having read the note, I handed it to the gentleman of the house, who read it with astonishment, exclaiming, 'What can be the matter at Captain Burton's! But go,' said he; 'Captain Burton is a gentleman, and will treat you politely.' "

Smith sent him word that he would be at his house the following day. He went, expounded to the assembled family the doctrine and discipline of Methodism, prayed with them, "and left them all in tears." "Before night," He adds, "I received another note, saying, 'When can you come and preach for us?' I answered, 'On New Year's day, at three o'clock P. M.' The next day, on my way to my appointment, I fell in with some of our warm friends going to the meeting, who said, 'The people don't believe you will preach at Captain Burton's today; they think he is making a fool of you; that he no more intends to let you preach at his house than he intends going to the moon.' 'Very well,' I said, 'we will go and test it.' When we arrived at the place we found everything as solemn as death. The people were awed into profound reverence. It was a difficult matter to get into the yard, the press of hearers was so great. When I got to my station, at the front door, in the midst of the crowd, I gave out a hymn. After prayer I preached on Rom. xvi, 19, 20: 'I would have you wise unto that which is good, and simple concerning evil, and the God of peace shall bruise Satan under your feet shortly. The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you. Amen.' Before the sun rose the next day the enemy's flag was struck, and the banner of Jesus Christ was waving there. This night, this memorable night, never to be forgotten, excelled all I had ever seen. At the very commencement of the meeting the Spirit of the Lord came as a rushing, mighty wind; the people fell before it, and lay all over the floor. The work continued all night, nor did it stop in the morning, but continued for thirteen days and nights without interruption; some coming, some going, so that the meeting was kept up day and night. I did the preaching, and our friends did the praying. I have stood in the yard in the evening, and seen scores of people coming along the roads, and across the field. Sometimes they would gather up in the fields or on the roadside and form a prayer-meeting, and a number of souls have been converted in these outdoor meetings; but Burton's house was the center to which all came. I cannot dwell on particulars, they would make a book. At the close of this meeting we formed a new class of fifty-five members, who never had their names on a class paper before. Burton's family, white and colored, were converted to God, with many other whole families, and his house was made a regular preaching place, where the new class met, and also a class of about forty colored members. Thus, in about thirteen days, we added about ninety-five to the Church on probation. Burton and his wife headed the class paper, then all their children, then followed nearly all their neighbors. Some years after they built themselves a chapel, and there has been a fine society in that place ever since.

Burton's Chapel was long a humble but historical monument of Methodism in that part of Virginia. More than seven hundred members were added to the Church on this circuit by the close of the year. "Glory to God!" exclaimed the itinerant, as he returned to it after the Conference of 1801, "the work still goes on gloriously! Our field extends over two counties, and is everywhere white unto the harvest." By the end of his second year the additions amounted (for the two years) to one thousand and ninety members.

In 1802 the interest extended. At Rockingham a meeting continued nine days; "business was wholly suspended, merchants and mechanics shut up their shops," and "little else was attended to but waiting upon the Lord." The people crowded in from all the surrounding country, and hundreds were converted. In North and South Carolina and Georgia similar scenes occurred, and lasted through most of our present period. High up the Yadkin River "the work of the Lord was very great, and more or less people were converted at public preaching. One preacher said he preached as often as his strength would admit, and the power of God attended his meetings, and from three to four, and sometimes from seven to eight, were brought into the glorious liberty of the children of God at a meeting." Lee formed new societies of fifty converts at a time.

"In North Carolina," continues the historian, "the work of the Lord spread greatly, and was known both among saints and sinners." In South Carolina "religion gained ground, and in many places it may be said to have been all in a flame." In Georgia "the Lord was pleased to favor the people with an uncommonly prosperous time in religion, and many souls were brought to God at public and private meetings." Many individual societies were reinforced by a hundred additions at a time. Quarterly meetings were frequently turned into protracted camp-meetings, and it seemed, to the sanguine evangelists, that the whole population was about to bow before the power of their word. In short, the subsequent predominance of Methodism in the South can be traced to the impulse that it now received. It spread out into neglected regions where the people, in the absence of religious provisions, had been sinking into barbarism. Lee says that about the beginning of this general awakening George Clark went to St. Mary's in Georgia to preach, and if possible to form a circuit. He found the people in different places entirely destitute of preaching, and he had to direct them when to stand, when to kneel, etc. Some who were grown to years said they had never heard a sermon or prayer before in all their lives. "I suppose," he adds, "the two counties where he traveled principally, Glen and Camden, were at that time less acquainted with the public worship of God than any other part of the United States. However, before the close of the year, some of the people became constant attendants on the word, were much reformed in their lives, and some of them were truly converted to God. On the 28d day of December, 1799, there was a Society formed in the town of Augusta, in Georgia, which was the first class ever joined together in that town. After some time the Society built a convenient meeting-house."

There were many such regions in the South in these early times. A Methodist writer, speaking of the labors of Isaac Smith, who went forth in South Carolina, forming a circuit, which included the suggestive names of "The Cypress, Four Holes, Indian Fields Saltketlepen, Cattle Creek, and Edisto River," says that the state of moral destitution throughout all this region was melancholy in the extreme; that there were whole families who had never seen a preacher nor heard a sermon; that literally he had to go into the highways and hedges, to penetrate the swamps and canebrakes in search of the demoralized people, early and late, by day and by night, through the heats of the burning sun, and exposed to the rains and to the poisonous miasma [Oxford Dict. miasma n. (pl. miasmata or miasmas) archaic an infectious or noxious vapor. — DVM] of the low country, risking health, and life itself.

In January, 1804, Asbury wrote to Fleming: "Grace, mercy, and peace from Him that was, and is, and is to come, be with thee and thine, now and forever. From Kentucky I came on to Tennessee. I found the Methodists generally living and growing. In North and South Carolina and Georgia some very memorable displays in large meetings. The north side of Virginia you have heard of; the south side is glorious. At Dromgoole's old chapel, at a great meeting, near one hundred professed faith, besides many blacks. In Maryland, you have heard, at a camp near Prysterstown, some hundreds were moved; many were converted, and some restored. In Jersey, Brother Morrell writes, the Presbyterians are greatly stirred up, riding about and preaching upon week days. Upon Connecticut River they have had a field-meeting. The people came from a town called Middletown, in a boat, and some were converted on board the boat; and the work spread in the town. In the district of Maine we have good times, down to the very east end of the continent. In the West and South Conferences the increase, after the dead and expelled are reckoned, is between three and four thousand."

Southern Methodism was powerfully manned during this period. McKendree, Whatcoat, George, Everett, Bruce, Blanton, Spry, Mead, Jenkins, Lee, (the latter part of the time,) Hitt, Wilson Lee, Dougherty, McCaine, were among its presiding elders; while such men as Sale, Harper, Gibson, Smith, Hull, Reed, Bloodgood, Sargent, Fleming, Lyell, McCoy, Myers, Gassaway, Walters, McCombs, David Asbury, Wells, Cowles, Jones, Frye, Roberts, were among the circuit itinerants.

George Dougharty occupies a conspicuous place in the early annals of Southern Methodism. "Among the men of that day, whose character looms grandly up from the misty past," none, writes a bishop of the South, [3] filled a larger space in the Church. We know little of his early life, except that he was born in South Carolina, "reared in Newberry District, near Lexington line," [4] and "used to cut ranging timber on the Idisto River." He was early converted, and "came into our neighborhood," says one of his fellow-itinerants, "and taught a school; in every crowd where the Methodist schoolmaster appeared he was a mark for the finger of scorn;" but he maintained his integrity, applied himself to study, and was at last discovered and summoned out to preach, by an itinerant on the neighboring Rush River Circuit, who took him to the South Carolina Conference, where he began his regular ministerial career in 1798. "By application and perseverance he took," says his fellow-evangelist, "a stand in the front rank of the South Carolina band of pioneers, marshaling the armies of the sacramental host from the sea shore to the Blue Ridge." He was ungainly in his person; tall, slight, with but one eye, and negligent of dress; but his intellect was of lofty tone, his logical powers remarkable, and his eloquence at times absolutely irresistible. An example is recorded, which occurred at one of those mixed woods-meetings which the primitive condition of the people rendered common in that day, and at which all sorts of theological speculations came into collision. He had been appointed to follow, without intermission, a preacher of another sect, who dealt out lustily opinions which, according to Methodism, were dangerous heresies. Dougharty, on rising, struck directly at these errors; his argumentation became ignited with his feelings, his voice rose till it echoed in thunder peals" over the throng and through the forest; dropping polemics, he applied his reasoning in overwhelming exhortation, "urging compliance with the conditions of salvation. The power of God came down, and one universal cry was heard through all that vast concourse. Some fell prostrate on the ground, others rising to flee from the scene fell by the way." Dougharty, turning round on the stand to the heretical preacher, "dropped on his knees before him, and in the most solemn manner, with uplifted hands and streaming eyes, begged him, in God's name, never again to preach the doctrines he had advanced that day. The scene was overwhelming, and beggars all description."

One of our best authorities in the South, who often heard him preach, says: "His mind seemed to me, in its relation to the tabernacle which it inhabited, like some mighty engine that makes the timbers of the vessel it is propelling tremble. So interested was he in the study of the Hebrew, that I remember reading to him in our English Bible, while he read in his Hebrew Bible, until I observed the powerful workings of his mind had completely exhausted him. He was far in advance of the period in which he lived, in his estimate and advocacy of education. As early as 1803 he was laboring in his native state for the establishment of an academy, to be under the control of the Methodist Episcopal Church. He was about six feet in stature, his shoulders a little stooping, his knees bending slightly forward, his walk tottering, and, in his general appearance, a very personification of frailty. He had lost one eye after he reached manhood by smallpox; and the natural beauty of a fair face had been otherwise dreadfully marred by the ravages of the same malady. His hair was very thin, and he wore it rather long, as was the custom of itinerant preachers in his day. His costume, like that of his brethren generally, was a straight coat, long vest, and knee breeches, with stockings and shoes, sometimes long, fair-topped boots, fastened by a modest strap to one of the knee buttons to keep the boots genteelly up. And in those days it was a beautiful clerical dress, where the wearer was a person of good taste and genteel habits. But in these little accomplishments Dougharty was sadly wanting; indeed, I would say that his negligence was so great as to form a positive fault. Notwithstanding his bodily weakness he preached almost daily, and often twice in a day, riding large circuits or districts, as his appointment might be, for seven or eight years successively. It seemed as if his great mind and warm heart infused into his feeble frame a preternatural life and energy. His sermons were frequently long, and always characterized by a glow that seemed akin to inspiration. His supremacy as a preacher in his day was never disputed, to my knowledge, by any competent witness. I have no hesitation in expressing the opinion that George Dougharty had no equal in his day among his brethren." [5]

In 1801 he was attacked by a mob in Charleston, S. C., provoked by the antislavery action of the General Conference. They dragged him from the church to a pump, where they pumped upon him till he was exhausted, and would probably have perished, had not a heroic Methodist woman interfered, stopping up the mouth of the pump with her shawl. She held the mob abashed by her remonstrances till a courageous citizen threw himself into their midst with a drawn sword, rescued their victim, and led him to a place of shelter. He never recovered from this inhuman treatment, but lingered with consumption till the South Carolina Conference of 1807, when his voice was last heard, in that body, proposing and advocating a resolution, that any preacher who should desert his appointment "through fear in times of sickness or danger," should never again be employed by the Conference, a requisition necessary in that region of epidemics. He "spoke," says the old Minutes, "to the case with amazing argument and energy, and carried his cause like a dying general in victory." He died this year at Wilmington, N. C., where he was appropriately "buried in the African Church." [6] Joshua Wells, under whose roof he expired, says "He spoke of death and eternity with an engaging, feeling, sweet composure, and manifested an indescribable confidence, love, and hope, while he said, 'The goodness and love of God to me are great and marvelous, as I go down the dreadful declivity of death.' His understanding was unimpaired; and so perfect was his tranquillity, that his true greatness was probably never seen or known until that trying period."

His ministerial brethren commemorated him in their Minutes as "a great preacher," of "an exceedingly capacious" mind, having "a fund of knowledge," and as "totally dead to the world, and indefatigable in labor and study." They pronounce him the right character "if they wanted a guide, a pillar, or a man to stand in the gap." [7]

William Watters, the first native American Methodist preacher, reappears in the appointments for the year 1801, after having been located about eighteen years. During his location he preached habitually, and often at distances of many miles from his home. He was now fifty years old, mature in health and character, of extreme amiability, good sense, self-possession, and soundness of judgment. During most of our present period he labored at Alexandria, Georgetown, and Washington. "I enjoyed," he writes, "good health and great enlargement of heart for the ingathering of souls to the Lord's kingdom, with considerable life and liberty in all the ordinances of his house, but in none more than in dispensing the words of eternal life. It was to me more than the increase of corn, wine, or oil. I often enjoyed through the silent hours of the Sabbath nights, after laboring all the day and part of the night, such a sacred sense of the divine presence and nearness to the throne of grace by the precious blood of the covenant, that all sleep has been banished from my eyes, while I have felt

'That solemn awe that dares not move,

And all the silent heaven of love.' " [8]

He had been gradually gathering members into the societies of his appointments, when the great revival of these times swept over his field. "Many," he says, "were certainly reformed and converted to the Lord, but many made a great noise and ado that knew too little of what they were about, and, from the greatness of the work, the spirit of the times, as well as from several other causes that then existed, which I do not think proper to mention, I never found more difficulty in separating the chaff from the wheat without endangering the real work. There were many in the course of twelve months added unto the Church, numbers of whom continue to adorn their profession, yet the spirit and genius of the revival was not so congenial to my feelings as the less revival with which we had and blessed two years before. But I am sensible, and wish to be more so, that there are diversities of operations, the same God which working all in all, and that it belongeth not unto me to dictate, but to follow the leadings of a kind Providince, and that word of inspiration that gives us infallible instructions in all such matters, so that however things may turn up from the enemy, from sinners, or the injudicious among us, all will end well if we do but with patience and perseverance pursue the work given us to do." These are characteristic remarks.

He located again in 1806, and we get but few later glimpses of him. Boehm, the traveling companion of Asbury, says that in February, 1811, while in Virginia, they "rode to William Watters's. He retired from the regular work in 1806, but his heart was always in it. He was now living in dignified retirement on his farm on the Virginia side of the Potomac, opposite Georgetown. He was the first traveling preacher raised up in America. Philip Gatch commenced nearly the same time. They were intimate, and in their declining years corresponded with each other. Watters was a stout man, of medium height, of very venerable and solemn appearance. Bishop Asbury and he were lifetime friends. The bishop was acquainted with him before he was licensed to preach. When these aged men met on this occasion they embraced and saluted each other with 'a holy kiss;' and the bishop, writing of this visit in his journal, speaks of him as 'my dear old friend, William Watters.' He was distinguished for humility, simplicity, and purity. Few holier ministers has the Methodist Church ever had than William Watters. I rejoice that I was permitted to hear him preach, and to be his guest; to eat at his table, to sit at his fireside, to enjoy his friendship and hospitality. His house was for years a regular preaching-place on the circuit. In 1833, at the age of eight two, he died in holy triumph. His name will go down to the end of time, bearing the honored title of "The First American Traveling Preacher.' "

The biographer of his friend Gatch, who commenced preaching in the same year with him, but joined the itinerancy a little later, describes Watters in 1813 as a venerable looking man; his head white, his form erect, his countenance full of benevolence. [9] For some time before his death he was totally blind. One of our best Church antiquarians says: "The family to which Watters belonged was perhaps one of the most remarkable in the early annals of American Methodism. His mother died in her ninety-second year. There were seven brothers and two sisters. They were among the first of those whose hearts and houses were opened to receive the Methodist preachers when the latter came into Harford County, Md.; and several of the brothers, at an early period, became official members of the Methodist Societies. Stephen was a local preacher, Nicholas entered upon the itinerant work in 1786, and closed his useful life while stationed in Charleston, S. C., in 1805. One of the earliest Methodist churches in Maryland was erected on the farm of Henry Watters, and was only removed a few years since in order to give place to a larger one. It was there that the famous Conference was held in 1777, when the English preachers, with the exception of Asbury, gave up the field, and returned to their native country. The old homestead is still in possession of the family; Henry Watters, Esq., the oldest son of his father, and class-leader in the Church, is the proprietor. What imperishable memories cluster around the sweet rural mansion where Pilmoor and Boardman, Coke and Asbury, so often lodged and prayed! Verily, 'the righteous shall be had in everlasting remembrance.' " [10]

William Gassaway has left many an interesting tradition in the Southern Church. He was one of those lowly men whom Methodism so often rescued from vice and obscurity, and made princes in Israel — a wild, profligate youth, a hard drinker, a formidable pugilist, a famous fiddler in bacchanalian [Oxford Dict. Bacchanalia n. pl. 1 the Roman festival of Bacchus. 2 (bacchanalia) a drunken revelry. — DVM] scenes, and afterward as ardent a saint and apostle. A southern bishop [11] has endeavored to rescue his memory, and says, he chanced one day to attend a Methodist meeting, where the gospel came to his heart in power, arousing him from his guilty dream of pleasure and security. When penitents were invited forward for prayers, he, with others, accepted the invitation. This surprised everybody. The dancing people said, "What shall we do for a fiddler?" Every one had something to say about Gassaway. Many prophesied he would not hold out long. But those who knew him best said, "He is gone! the Methodists have got him! He will never play the fiddle, or drink, or fight any more!" His religious impressions were profound, but he was almost utterly ignorant of the plan of salvation, and expected to be saved by self-mortification. For some time, detesting himself as a sinner, he would not even drink. Passing a stream he allowed his horse to drink, saying, "You may, you are not a sinner; but I am. I will not drink." There remains a fragmentary record of his life about the time, [12] in which he says he was totally ignorant of the fundamental truths of Christianity. "I understood that Jesus Christ was the Son of God, and the Saviour of the world; but that he had died for my sins, and for his sake, and his sake alone, the Father would forgive my sins, was what I knew nothing at all about; and, what was worse, I knew of nobody to whom I could go, but one man, who was an elder in the Presbyterian Church; and so little did I know of the true spirit of Christianity, I thought, as I had been up for the Methodists to pray for me, that this man would show me no favor. But at last, so pungent were my convictions, that I concluded to go and see this old Presbyterian man anyhow. So I went. I did not know how to make any apology, so I just told him plainly my condition. Think of my surprise when he took me into his open arms, saying to me, 'The Spirit of the Lord is with you. See that you don't quench that Spirit. Make my house your home. I will give you all the help I can."

This good Presbyterian was Major Joseph McJunkin, of Union District, S. C., a man of genuine piety and recognized Christian standing, who knew how to appreciate Gassaway's peculiar character, and now became his instructor, for he kept him at his house some weeks, that he might guide and fortify him, exhorting him "never to look back, but to persevere to the end, for only such could be saved." He put into the hands of the untutored inquirer Baxter's "Saints' Rest." Gassaway says that he took the book, and walked out into the woods near a little stream. He had been long weeping over his sins, and confessing them to God, and in deep sorrow he sat down to read. He says he had not read long "before the Lord, the King of glory, for the sake of his Son, baptized him with the Holy Ghost and fire from heaven," and that he was never better satisfied of the truth of any fact in his life than he was of his conversion at this time. "With no human being near me, I immediately got on my knees, and thanked God, and then and there dedicated myself; soul, body, and spirit, to him, and covenanted to be his for ever. I returned immediately to the house of my friend, and told him the whole story. He blessed God, called his family together, told them what had taken place, and then we all united in prayer and in praise."

Having thus found his way in to the "path of life," he was soon leading others into it more zealously than he had ever led them in the dance. Joining the Methodists, he became an exhorter, then a local preacher, and, at last, a genuine hero of the itinerancy, in which, for about a quarter of a century, he was one of the most laborious and successful evangelists of the South, spreading out Methodism over much of Georgia and North and South Carolina. He "had a large family, and poor pay," says one of his contemporaries, [13] and had to locate in 1813, but continued to labor with energy and success. He is described as a man exceedingly given to prayer, and of the most childlike and absolute faith in prayer, committing his ways unto God, and thenceforward being "careful for nothing." Not a few examples of the power of his prayers and preaching are still current in the Southern Church. While traveling on a circuit, which included Camden, S. C., a very powerful religious interest broke out, and a considerable number of persons were converted. Among these was a lady whose husband, then absent, was noted for his violent hostility to religion. When he returned he became furious, ordered his wife to have her name taken off the Church books, and swore he would cowhide the preacher. Many of Gassaway's friends admonished him to keep away, for they knew the violent spirit of his opposer; but, "according to the preacher's wont, he carried this matter to God in prayer, and seems to have come to the conclusion that, in the order of God, he was on that circuit, and as Camden was in his circuit, it was his duty to go there and preach, and leave God to manage consequences. At the appointed time accordingly he was found at his appointment. He arose to preach, and there sat his enemy before him, with a countenance of wrath and storm, and a cowhide in his hand, prepared to execute his threat. Gassaway gave out his hymn, and sang it; he knelt in prayer, and God was with him. He arose from his knees, took his text; and proceeded to pr each; but before he concluded he saw that his persecutor was yielding, and, at the close, the angry man, with streaming eyes, knelt and cried out for the prayers of the people as if his last hour were come. "It was not long before he was happily converted, and united with his wife in the way to heaven, and of course he became one of Gassaway's warmest friends." [14]

I was well acquainted with him," says one of our authorities. "When but a youth I was accustomed to hear him preach at my uncle's in Chester District, South Carolina; and when I entered the itinerancy, it was in the same Conference to which he belonged. He was a sound, orthodox preacher, and, on suitable occasions, argumentative and polemical, a great lover and skillful defender of Methodist doctrines and usages. He was a pleasant and sociable companion, always cheerful. I never saw him gloomy. I frequently heard of him after his location; he was the same laborious, zealous, and holy minister of the gospel. He lived to mature old age. 'And he died,' no doubt as he lived, 'full of faith and the Holy Ghost.' But where is the periodical or paper, religious or secular, that has recorded his exit? 'The righteous should be in everlasting remembrance,' and William Gassaway ought to be numbered with the blessed company." [15]

William Gassaway had the honor of calling out to the itinerant field Bishop Capers, who speaks of him as "that most godly man, and best of ministers," [16] and began his own distinguished career by riding a circuit with the humble itinerant, and "exhorting" after his sermons.

Enoch George resumed his itinerant labors in 1799 on Rockingham Circuit, Virginia, [17] where, he says, "the windows of heaven were again opened, and grace descended upon us." In 1800 he had charge of a district extending from the Alleghenies to the Chesapeake Bay, and requiring from one thousand to twelve hundred miles travel quarterly. His excessive labors brought back his old infirmities, for "in those days," he says, "the preachers 'ceased not to warn every one night and day with tears' in doing the work given them, and exerted themselves not only to increase the numbers, but the holiness of the people. It was our duty to attend diligently to the Africans, in forming and establishing societies; but as their masters would not allow them to attend the meetings during the day, we were obliged to meet them at night. Oftentimes this kept us up and out till late, in this unhealthy climate, which had a destructive influence upon our health. We were 'very zealous for the Lord of hosts;' and having for the most part no family ties, we wanted 'but little here below,' and were ready to 'count all things but loss,' that we might 'take heed unto, and faithfully fulfill, the ministry we had received of the Lord Jesus.' " He broke down, was again located, and taught school in Winchester, Va., for his support. He preached meanwhile on Sabbaths, and having recovered sufficient strength re-entered the itinerancy in 1803, and labored successively and mightily on Frederick Circuit, Baltimore District, Alexandria District, Georgetown, Frederick, Montgomery, and Baltimore Circuits, and Baltimore and Georgetown Districts, till his consecration to the episcopate.

William McKendree traveled during the present period, down to the end of the century, on vast districts in Virginia: on the Richmond District from 1796 to 1799, superintending five great circuits in Eastern and Southern Virginia, to which were added, at the close of the first year, three more in the mountainous west of the state, thus bringing him further under frontier training for his great Western mission, which was now at hand. His labors were almost superhuman, interfering, he says, with his studies and impairing his nervous system; but he rejoiced in the rapid extension of the Church. In 1799 he was appointed over a district, which comprised no less than nine circuits, extending along the Potomac, in Maryland and Virginia, and reaching from the waters of the Chesapeake to the heights of the Alleghenies. In 1800 he was again on his Richmond District, but had passed round it only once when Asbury and Whatcoat met him, with orders to pack up forthwith, and throw himself into the great Western field as leader of its itinerant pioneers. "I was," he says, "without my money, books, or clothes. These were all at a distance, and I had no time to go after them; but I was not in debt, therefore unembarrassed. Of moneys due me I collected one hundred dollars, bought cloth for a coat, carried it to Holston, and left it with a tailor in the bounds of my new district. The bishops continued their course: my business was to take care of their horses, and wait on them, for they were both infirm old men." They were soon descending the western slope of the Alleghenies, whither we shall hereafter follow them.

Tobias Gibson, also, after seven years of hardest service in Georgia and South Carolina, in 1795, to the Holston region, departed in 1799 for the farther west, the first Methodist pioneer of the Southern Mississippi Valley; we shall soon have occasion to greet him there.

Among the host of able men of this period in the ministry of the South, two appeared who presented pre-eminent attractions as eloquent preachers, William Ryland and James Smith. The former was an Irishman, and a born orator. He joined the itinerancy in 1802, and continued in it forty-two years. He was six times elected chaplain to Congress, and was pronounced, by the statesman, William Pinckney; the greatest pulpit orator he had ever heard. General Jackson admired him enthusiastically while senator; and arriving in Washington for his inauguration as President of the nation, hastened, the next day, to see him, the itinerant being then on a sick bed. "General," said Ryland, "you have been elected President of the United States. No man can govern this great nation, no sane man should think of doing so, without asking wisdom of God to direct him, and strength to support him;" at the same time, suiting his actions to his words, he drew the general down to the side of the bed, and offered up a fervent prayer for him, and also for the peace and prosperity of the country. Upon leaving the room, Jackson took him by the hand, saying, "I know that your Church makes no provision for her preachers in the decline of life; but I will see that you are taken care of in your old age." In a few days after his inauguration he sent Ryland a chaplain's commission, and stationed him at the Navy Yard in Washington City. [18] For seventeen years he occupied this office, to the honor of his Church and the naval service. He was a diligent student, and acquired a knowledge not only of general English literature, but of Latin, Greek, and Hebrew. He was fastidiously exact in all his habits, extremely neat in his person, wearing the simple clerical garb of his brethren to the last. He was six feet in stature, of robust frame, and in extreme age his countenance was fresh and delicate as that of a woman; his manners dignified, his voice of great compass and surpassing melody; his pronunciation faultless, his diction pure, terse, Saxon. A church, in the national capital, bears his name.

James Smith joined the Baltimore Conference in the same year with Ryland. He began to preach when only sixteen years old, and was hardly twenty when he began to travel. He occupied important appointments in Virginia, Maryland, and Pennsylvania, down to the year 1826, when he died in Baltimore. Among his stations were Washington, Baltimore, and Philadelphia. He was a delegate in three General Conferences. "A man of high intellect," [19] of kind and generous feelings, of excessive humor in the familiar circles of his ministerial brethren; "one of the most transparent and ingenuous of men," and of "manly and stirring eloquence." He had a voice of great compass and harmony, and susceptible of such variety of intonation as to express, with the finest effect, every shade of thought he might wish to convey. His language was nervous and chaste. "Taking into account the matter and style of his sermons, together with the manner of delivery, I have," says his friend, Bishop Waugh, "known few more attractive preachers. He appeared to great advantage as a debater in our ecclesiastical judicatories, especially on the floor of an Annual or General Conference. On such occasions he gave fine specimens of forensic eloquence, and often produced a wonderful impression." He was nearly six feet in height, stout and erect, with fair complexion, silky auburn hair, a round and benevolent face, with a singular difference in the color of his eyes, "one being a soft and beautiful blue, the other so dark a hazel as to become coal-black at night, or when he was excited in conversation or preaching. It had always this shade when you saw him at the distance of the pulpit. In talking or preaching he could hardly speak without being eloquent. He was fond of arguing, and, when animated with a melting or a kindling eye, and the high or low cadences of a good voice, it was a treat to listen. As a preacher he was in marked contrast with the venerable Ryland. While Ryland was, in every tone and gesture, awfully solemn and impressive, Smith, by word and look, was winning and attractive. The one inspired reverence, the other secured love. [20] He had remarkable fervor and pathos in prayer.

By the close of this period the Minutes had ceased to return Church members according to states, but reported them according to Conferences. There were now three of these bodies in the South: Baltimore Conference, with 23,646 members; Virginia, with 17,139; and South Carolina, with 14,510. The aggregate of Southern Methodists was 55,295, of whom more than 14,000 were Africans. The gain for the last eight years had been 15,554, an average of nearly two thousand a year. The South had now nearly one half of all the membership of the Church, including that of Canada. More than a hundred and sixty itinerants were abroad in its Conferences. [21]

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ENDNOTES

1 Journals, anno, 1800.

2 Hist. of Meth., p. 271.

3 Bishop Andrew, in Nashville Ch. Advocate.

4 Rev. D. Derrick, in So. Ch. Ad.

5 Rev. Dr. Lovick Pierce, in Sprague, p. 291-295.

6 Minutes of 1808.

7 The lady who rescued Dougharty from the mob was Mrs. Martha Kugley. "The wetting she received at the pump from the heartless ruffians was the cause of her premature death. Like Dougharty, she was of a consumptive habit, and the cold acquired that wintry night never left her, and she and Dougharty died about the same time." — Annals or Southern Methodism, by Rev. Dr. Deems, p. 228. Nashville, 1856. Bangs says that "of all those concerned in this persecution not one prospered. Most of them died miserable deaths, an one of them acknowledged that God's curse lighted upon him for his conduct in this affair."

8 Short Account, etc., p. 137.

9 Mem. of Gatch, p. 153. "It is strange that so little is known of the latter years of so great and good a man. He was one of the most holy and useful men of the many who have adorned Methodism — a Virginian Christian gentleman of the right type. His upright walk and sterling character were proverbial" — Letter of D. Creamer, Esq., Baltimore, to the author.

10 Rev. Dr. Hamilton, in Sprague, p. 49.

11 Bishop Andrew.

12 Bishop Andrew quotes from a MS. in possession of Colonel Thomas Williams, of Montgomery, Ga., "whose house was for many years one of Gassaway's homes."

13 Autobiography of Joseph Travis, p. 197. Nashville, 1856.

14 Bishop Andrew.

15 Travis, p. 198.

16 Bishop Wightman's "Life of Capers," p. 76. Nashville, 1858.

17 Meth. Quart. Rev., 1830, p. 253.

18 Rev. Dr. Hamilton, in Sprague, p. 393.

19 Bishop Waugh, in Sprague, p. 373

20 Rev. Dr. Sargent, in Sprague, p. 377.

21 These Conferences included, however, portions of what I have hitherto called the West, that is to say, the regions of Virginia and Pennsylvania west of the mountains. The Western Conference was now organized, and was limited to western states, except a portion of the Holston country.

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