VOLUME 3 — BOOK V — CHAPTER VI
METHODISM IN THE NORTH, CONTINUED: CANADA, 1792 — 1796

The Emburys and Hecks in Canada — Dunham and Losee — Dunham's Life and Character — Examples of his Sarcasm — First Quarterly Meeting — Paul Heck's Death — Methodism takes precedence of the English Church in the Province — Romantic Close of Losee's Ministry — Final Traces of him — James Coleman enters Canada — Sketch of him — Elijah Woolsey — His early Trials — His Adventurous Passage to Canada — Sufferings and Successes there — Sylvanus Keeler — The First Native Methodist Preacher in Canada — Reminiscences of him — Woolsey's Labors and Death — Samuel Coate — His Eccentricities and Fall — Hezekiah C. Wooster's Extraordinary Power — Lorenzo Dow — Wooster's Death — Success in Canada — Statistical Strength of Middle and Northern Methodism

Meanwhile the struggling cause was advancing in still more northern fields. We have seen its providential introduction into Canada. John Lawrence, a devoted Methodist, who accompanied Embury from Ireland, and was one of the five persons of his first congregation in New York, married his widow, and with the Hecks, and others of the society at Ashgrove, left the United States, at the breaking out of the Revolutionary war, for Lower Canada, where they remained (mostly in Montreal) about eleven years. In 1785 they again journeyed into the wilderness and settled on "Lot number four, third Concession," of what is now the town of Augusta, in Upper Canada. Here their peculiar work, their providential mission, as I have ventured to call it, was resumed. They were still pioneers and founders of Methodism; and in the house of John and Catharine Lawrence (the widow of Embury) was organized the first "class" of Augusta, and Samuel Embury, the son of Philip, was its first leader. Paul and Barbara Heck were among its first members, and their three sons were also recorded on its roll. They were thus to anticipate and, in part, prepare the way for the Methodist itinerancy in Canada; as they had at New York city and in Northern New York; for William Losee, the first regular Methodist preacher in the province, did not enter it, as has been shown, till 1790. The germ of Canadian Methodism was planted by these memorable families five or six years before Losee's arrival. [1]

We have traced the subsequent progress of the denomination, in Canada, through the labors of Tuppey, Neal, McCarty, Lyons, and Losee, down to 1792. Losee, not being an elder, was accompanied to the province in the latter year by Darius Dunham, who was competent to administer the sacraments. Dunham had been educated as a physician, but had abandoned his professional hopes for the life of an apostle. He joined the itinerancy in 1788, and was enrolled among Garrettson's little corps on the Upper Hudson. He was appointed to Shoreham, on the Vermont side of Lake Champlain. There was no such circuit at the time; but the youthful itinerant was sent out to form one, a not infrequent fact in those days. In 1789 he was on Cambridge Circuit, which brought him into communication with Losee, who was traveling the adjacent circuit, and probably led him, at last, to accompany his fellow-laborer to Canada. He remained in the same appointment in 1790, and was ordained deacon. In these two years he gathered into the Church nearly a hundred and fifty members. In 1791 he was still retained in the North, traveling Columbia Circuit. In 1792 he was ordained elder and set out with Losee to the northwestern wilds. He was energetic in body, resolute in will, tenacious of his opinions, enthusiastic in zeal, and had "the greatest bass voice the people had ever heard," no unimportant qualification for that borean region. He was quite indifferent to the censures of opposers, rebuked sternly the vices of the settlers, and was soon in "high repute" among them. [2] He worked mightily in this hard field, the difficulties of which he continued to brave, most of the time as presiding elder, down to 1800, when he located, through domestic necessities, and settled on the Bay of Quinte as a physician, but continued to preach till the end of his life. He "was a character: a man of small stature, but full of vigor, compact, formidable, with coarse, bushy eyebrows," and a tremendous voice, which often sent trembling through his rude congregations. He was ready in discourse, but singularly blunt and direct, sometimes scathingly sarcastic, especially to self-conceited critics or opponents. He preached much upon cleanliness, endeavoring to reform the negligent habits of the frontier settlers. "It was in the Bay of Quinte country," says our local authority, "where he lived so long as a located as well as traveling preacher, that the greatest number of characteristic anecdotes are related of Dunham. His reply to a magistrate is well known. A new-made 'squire' bantered him before some company about riding so fine a horse, and told him he was very unlike his humble Master, who was content to ride on an ass. Dunham responded with his usual imperturbable gravity, and in his usual heavy and measured tones, that he agreed with him perfectly, and that he would most assuredly imitate his Master in the particular mentioned only for the difficulty of finding the animal required, the government having 'made up all the asses into magistrates!' A person of my acquaintance informed me that he saw an infidel, who was a fallen Lutheran clergyman, endeavoring one night, while Dunham was preaching, to destroy the effect of the sermon on those around him by turning the whole into ridicule. The preacher affected not to notice him for a length of time, but went on extolling the excellency of Christianity, and showing the formidable opposition it had overcome, when all at once he turned to the spot where the scoffer sat, and, fixing his eyes upon him, the old man continued, 'Shall Christianity and her votaries, after having passed through fire and water, after vanquishing the opposition of philosophers and priests and kings, after all this, I say, shall the servants of God, at this time of day, allow themselves to be frightened by the braying of an ass?' The infidel, who had begun to show signs of uneasiness from the time the fearless servant of God fixed his terribly searching eye upon him, when he came to the climax of the interrogation was completely broken down, and dropped his head in evident confusion."

He had once a providential escape from death. He had aroused the anger of an ungodly man, whose wife had been converted under his ministry. "The husband came to the house where he lodged before he was up in the morning and inquired for him. The preacher made his appearance, partly dressed, when the infuriated man made toward him, and would have killed him with an ax with which he had armed himself; had it not been for the prompt intervention of his host and hostess, who succeeded in disarming the assailant. Dunham's calm and Christian fidelity, with the blessing of God, moreover, brought the man to reason, to penitence, and to prayer at once, and issued in his conversion. His wife was no longer persecuted, and his house became 'a lodging place for wayfaring men.' " [3]

Methodism thus sent hardy and brave men to its frontier conflicts, men whose characteristics had much in common with those of the rude population. Both Losee and Dunham were naturally fitted for this pioneer work.

The two evangelists arrived together, and, before parting, held the first quarterly meeting of the province. Notice of the occasion was spread through the six townships of Losee's new circuit, and "on Saturday, September 15, 1792, might have been seen, in Mr. Parrot's barn, first Concession of Ernestown, the first Saturday congregation, the first Church business meeting, and the first circuit prayer-meeting. Darius Dunham, preacher in charge of the circuit, acted in the place of the presiding elder." On Sunday the people, gathered from afar, witnessed the first provincial love-feast, in which they welcomed their two missionaries, breaking bread together with joyful hearts. "After the love-feast the Methodists see the broken bread and the cup, for the first time, in the hands of a Methodist preacher, who earnestly invites them to draw near and partake of the holy sacrament to their comfort. A new and solemn ordinance to them; and then after the members have retired for a few minutes, behold a crowd of people pressing into the barn, filling it, and a great number around the doors." The itinerants avail themselves of the popular interest, and close the meeting with repeated proclamations of the Gospel, making "a memorable day to the people of the Bay of Quinte, the first Methodist quarterly meeting held in Canada."

Losee's circuit included Augusta, the scene of the first class of the province, formed by the Emburys and Hecks. Barbara Heck still survived to receive him, pondering her old German Bible in these forests, and waiting for the salvation of the people. Her husband, Paul Heck, died there this year, a "faithful servant of the Lord," an "upright, honest man, whose word was as good as his bond." [4]

Methodism was now completely organized in the province, with three circuits, "classes," "societies," the sacraments, and all other essential provisions of a Church. It was under the jurisdiction of the General Conference, and the episcopal administration of Asbury. The denomination thus took actual precedence of the English Church there, as it had of the organization of the Protestant Episcopal Church in the United States. It was not till 1793 that the British government, reserving one seventh of the lands of Canada for an ecclesiastical endowment, sent out Dr. Mountain as bishop of Quebec, with spiritual jurisdiction over the province. He found but three or four clergymen of his Church [5] dispersed through the immense territory. One of his episcopal successors says that "the western part of the diocese presented a dreary waste. The people were scattered over a vast surface, and had the means been furnished of building churches and schools, there was little or no chance of their being supported. In new settlements families live of necessity far apart; they are for some years so wretchedly poor that they cannot dispense with the services of their children who are able to work, and if a church is erected, the families are for a long time too remote, and the roads too bad to attend. Settlers in a wilderness are often found greatly changed in a few years. Living without restraint, and without the eye of those whom they respect, a sense of decency and religion frequently disappears. Here the disinclination to holy things presents itself in all its deformity, a distaste for divine worship, and neglect of everything sacred, and a total estrangement from God; and although, from their situation, crimes against society are few, the heart becomes entirely dead to true piety and virtue." [6] It devolved upon Methodism, as precedent in the field, in an organized form, to meet most effectually this exigent [Oxford Dict. exigent adj. requiring much; exacting, urgent, pressing. — DVM] condition of the country. Its peculiar ecclesiastical apparatus fitted it to do so, and it has ever since been outspeeding the establishment in the reformation and moral nurture of the people.

The two itinerants had hard work, and many perils, especially from the severity of the climate; but they preached and traveled sturdily. They could not neglect their urgent work to attend the distant Annual Conference, but they sent returns of three hundred and forty-nine members. Dunham had gained ninety-four, Losee ninety where none had before been reported; extraordinary success for so dispersed and demoralized a population.

No appointments appear in the Minutes for 1793; doubtless a clerical omission, as the returns of members are given. Dunham remained and took charge of both circuits. Losee disappeared forever from the Minutes. It has been supposed that, broken down by labor and ill health, he located. [7] We have intimations, however, of a sadder, though more romantic cause of his sudden retirement. The powerful man, hardly yet thirty years old, whom no labor or hostility could daunt, had an extremely sensitive soul. "In the family of one of his hearers, near the Napanee River, where he formed his third society, was a maid of no little moral and personal attraction." He chose her for his wife, but before he could obtain her hand another suitor stepped in and bore her away, and with her the fondest earthly hope of his life. The strong man bowed under the burden of his grief; and was broken in both heart and intellect. He remained in the province till the summer of 1794, and then returned to the states hopelessly disqualified for his work, and his brethren quietly dropped his name from the list of appointments. It was an anomalous [atypical — DVM] case among them; they had no technical designation, no precedent for it. [8] It is not certain that his shaken intellect ever recovered its balance, but we meet occasional allusions to him in our early books, as an eccentric but faithful Methodist, on Long Island. In 1816 he suddenly reappeared among his old friends in Canada "for the last time. He came," says its Methodist historian, "to dispose of his property in Kingston. He was now a feeble old man, with spare features and his withered arm, but still walking in the way of the Lord. He preached in the chapel, and also in some places on the Bay of Quinte. His under jaw in speaking would fall a little, so that it was tied up while preaching. He would yet ride on horseback, resting his weight on the stirrup and as he rode, he balanced himself with his one arm, his body violently shaking." More than a quarter of a century after his affliction in Canada, a preacher traveling over Long Island writes: "On Christmas eve I preached at Carman Rushmore's, from the words of Moses, Deut. xviii, 15. At this place I met with Father Losee, an old-fashioned, Methodist preacher. He was confined to his bed with a broken leg, and I preached in the room where he lay. After sermon the old gentleman raised himself up in the bed, and gave a word of exhortation. He was exceedingly deaf; and perhaps could not hear himself; unless he raised his voice to the highest pitch, and as I had not raised mine much in preaching, he seemed, as I then thought, disposed to show me how it ought to be done. With a lion-like voice he declaimed against the vices and follies of mankind, and denounced all the workers of iniquity in no very soothing terms. I had never heard an old-fashioned Methodist preacher exhort, and I really almost trembled under the sound of his voice. Had St. Paul spoken as loud when he addressed the people at Miletus, I am inclined to think that Eutychus would not have fallen into so deep a sleep as he did." [9] The primitive fire evidently glowed still in the shattered old man. Many a tradition lingers yet in Canada of the power of his exhortations, especially of his rebukes to gross sinners. A hardened opponent endeavored to interrupt the worship of one of his congregations, when he singled him out from the throng and poured upon him the blast of his clarion-like voice. "On which the power of God struck him to the floor, where he lay several hours struggling in convulsive agony; and did not rise till he rejoiced in the God of his salvation. And although he was a young man of no education, he continued steadfast till the end of a long life; was always characterized by unusual zeal in the service of his Master, and became mighty in prayer and exhortation." The reclaimed young man was long afterward known "to hundreds in Matilda and the neighboring townships," as Joseph Brouse, a faithful representative of primitive Methodism."

If he did not fully recover his mind, he at least so recovered his heart as to marry into the family of the Rushmores, (a name honorable to Methodism,) and enjoying a comfortable, though infirm old age, died in peace, and sleeps in the burial ground of the Methodist Episcopal Church at Hempstead, Long Island. Such are our few last traces of this first itinerant and chief founder of Methodism in Canada. When we remind ourselves of the subsequent growth of the denomination through all that important country, its actual predominance, and prospective history, as the leading religious community among a people evidently destined to be one of the most prosperous and powerful of the continent, it may not be a mere fancy if we venture to predict a time when this heroic but afflicted veteran will be commemorated there with that veneration with which, some of the lowliest men have been honored in ecclesiastical history, by whole peoples or great states, as their apostles or religious founders.

In 1794 Dunham was appointed the first presiding older of Canada, and two young itinerant recruits, James Coleman and Elijah Wooley, hastened to his solitary standard.

James Coleman was born in Black River township, N. J., October 30, 1766. In be removed with his parents across the Alleghenies, and settled on the Monongahela River. This was then a remote region, quite beyond the religious provisions of the times. He grew up, therefore, in ignorance and vice. According to his own statements, his religious knowledge was exceedingly deficient, consisting in little more than some general ideas of the providence of God and the doctrine of Predestination, derived from his parents, who had been members of the Presbyterian Church. Young Coleman heard the itinerant evangelists who first reached that frontier; he was awakened and converted, but through persecutions and the lack of more regular means of grace, he lost his religious peace. Anxious for something to appease his conscience he returned to his former habits, and comforted himself with the persuasion that he was one of God's elect, and therefore secure, whatever might be the moral character of his life; the result was, increased carelessness, and, at last, habits of dissipation. God had, however, an important work for him, and did not abandon him utterly; he was afflicted with dangerous illness, reclaimed from his vices, and soon afterward joined the Methodists. He was licensed as an exhorter, and felt that a dispensation of the gospel was committed to him. About this time he was drafted to serve in a war with the Indians, but believing that he was called to a higher warfare, he refused to comply, and meantime was licensed to preach. On informing his captain of his determination, he was told that "he might go and preach in the army;" subsequently, an officer and several men were sent to seize him. They found him preaching, and were so affected by his word that they left him without further molestation. In 1791 he joined the itinerant ranks, and was appointed colleague of Daniel Fidler, on Redstone Circuit. [11] The next year he was sent to New England, and traveled Litchfield Circuit; and in 1793 that of Fairfield. The following year he passes, with one of those transitions which were characteristic of the itinerancy at that date, to Upper Canada. His labors, privations, and perils there were such as fell to the lot of but few, even of the itinerants of that day. [12] He continued in the new and laborious field till 1800, when he returned to New England, and labored on Middletown Circuit, Conn. He subsequently traveled Fletcher, Vt.; Redding, Conn.; Duchess, N. Y.; New Rochelle, N. Y.; Long Island; Croton, N.Y.; Newburgh, N.Y.; and New Windsor, N. Y., Circuits till 1810, when he was returned supernumerary. But the next year he re-entered the effective service, and was appointed to Litchfield Circuit, Conn., which he traveled during two years, and then passed to Stratford, Conn. In 1814 his name was entered on the "superannuated" list of the New York Conference, where it continued till 1821, when he again traveled Stratford Circuit. The next year he was among the "supernumeraries," but had charge of Ridgefield Circuit, Conn. In the following year he entered the lists of the "superannuated, or worn-out" preachers, and continued there the remainder of his life, which terminated at Ridgefield, Fairfield County, Conn., on the 5th day of February, 1842, in the seventy-seventh year of his age. His labors were energetic and successful. On his route to, and in his travels in Canada, he surmounted the severest hardships. Once, while passing up the Mohawk River in company with two others, he was obliged to go on shore fifteen nights in succession, and kindle a fire to keep off the wild beasts; and his food failing, he was reduced to a single cracker per day. Yet such was his zeal that no privations or difficulties could arrest him or even damp his ardor. "Though his abilities were not great," say his brethren, "yet such was the peculiar impression that attended his prayers, so entirely was he a man of one business, that no inconsiderable success attended his efforts, and his crown in heaven is set with many stars, and some of the first magnitude." [13]

Elijah Woolsey, Coleman's companion, was born in 1772. [14] The Methodist itinerants came to the locality where he spent his youth, and stopped at his father's house; on leaving they "used to take us," he says, "by the hand, and exhort us to seek the Lord; this affected me much." A beloved sister was converted and became a Methodist. "Her exemplary life," he writes, "frequently awakened me to a sense of my duty. Sometimes I used to find her in the woods on her knees at the break of day. I used to say to myself; 'She is now conversing with her God; but, alas for me, I am a poor sinner!' I never attended the preaching of the Methodists, except the first time, without feeling conviction, and I must say that no preaching seemed to me like theirs." He was soon himself a converted man and an ardent Methodist, holding meetings and exhorting zealously among his neighbors. In 1792 he and his brother began to itinerate under Garrettson. He was immediately initiated into the stern work of the ministry. "In my new circuit," he says, "I met with hard fare and many trials. The country was thinly inhabited. In some places there were no regular roads. We followed marked trees for eight or nine miles together. Provisions were scarce, and of the homeliest kind. In some instances our greatest luxuries were roasted potatoes. But, thank God I we did not stay long at each place. Our appointments for preaching were numerous, and the distances between them very considerable. Sometimes I had no bed to lie on, nor blanket to cover me in the coldest weather. My saddle-bags were my pillow, and my greatcoat my 'comfortable.' The consequence was repeated and violent colds, which laid the foundation for those infirmities which have for the last two years made me 'a supernumerary.' Notwithstanding, however, the hard toils and the hard fare of my first winter's appointment, I saw good times in another respect, and formed some new classes within the bounds of the circuit, and added to the Church eighty-eight hopeful members." In 1793 he was received on probation by the conference, and at its next session joined Dunham and Coleman for Canada. We are indebted to him for our only record of the adventurous expedition, presenting a curious contrast with modern travel through the same region, now hardly rivaled on the face of the earth in the convenience of its internal communications. They set out immediately after the Conference by the way of Albany and Schenectady. At Albany they laid in their provisions for the journey. When they came to Schenectady they found that the company with whom they had intended to go had already departed; so they tarried a week, and provided themselves with a boat. They had to work their own passage. "When we came to the first rapids," says Woolsey, "which by the Dutch people are called 'knock 'em stiff,' we had our difficulties. I had never used the setting pole in my life, and my colleague, Coleman, was not a very good waterman. When we had almost ascended the rapids the boat turned round, and down the stream she went, much more rapidly than she went up. We tried again, and when we had almost conquered the difficulty the boat turned again. I immediately jumped overboard, thinking to save it from going down stream; but the water was over my head. So away went the boat, with my companions in it, and I swam to shore. The next time we 'doubled the cape,' and that day made a voyage of ten miles. At night we brought up the boat, and made her fast to a tree. We then kindled a fire, put on the tea-kettle and the cooking-pot, boiled our potatoes, made our tea, and ate our supper with a good appetite and a clear conscience; and after smoking our pipes and chatting a while we sung and prayed, and then laid ourselves down among the sand and pebbles on the bank of the river to rest; but I was so wearied with the toils of the day that I could not sleep much that night." The next day, by dawn, they were again on the way, Dunham at the helm, Coleman and Woolsey at the oars; they made forty miles by sunset. "We put ashore," continues Woolsey, "as on the preceding night, collected leaves together, and made our couch as comfortable as we could, for we had no other place for that time whereon to lay our heads, being in some sense like the patriarch of old, when he was on his way to Padanaram. Our toil by day made repose welcome at night, so that when the morning light appeared we were rather loath to leave our humble beds. The weather, however, warned us to depart. It became stormy by day, and much more so by night. We had rain and snow fifteen days out of nineteen during that journey. When we were going down the Oswego River two men hailed us from the shore, and desired to work their passage about twenty miles. It was very stormy; I was very weary, and glad to rest a little; so we took them in, and I took the helm; but being warm with work, and then sitting still in the boat, I took a violent cold. Toward evening we saw a small log-house, and went to it. We found the woman sick in bed, and the man in poor health. They had three children, and but very little to eat. Here we lodged all night. I laid me down on the stones of the floor, which were very hard and uneven, but we kept a good fire all night, and I got into a perspiration, which relieved me of my cold a little, so that in the morning I felt much better than on the preceding night. Brother Dunham being a physician, administered some medicine to the woman, which greatly relieved her. She appeared to be pious, and had been a member of the Baptist Church, but said she had never seen a Methodist before. We had a very pleasant and edifying interview with the family, that evening, in religious conversation, singing, and prayer. When we discovered that they were so destitute of provisions, we divided our little stock, and shared with them of all that we had. They appeared equally surprised and thankful. They wished that we would tell any of our Methodist friends, who might have to travel that way, to be sure and call on them. They desired us also, if we ever came within forty miles of them, to be sure and go that distance at least out of our way to see them, telling us that we should be welcome to anything that the house or farm afforded. The house, however, was not likely to afford much, and there was scarcely anything on the farm but forest trees. This was the only time, during our journey of nineteen days, that we found a house to shelter us; and it was good for that family that they entertained the strangers. They must have suffered greatly had we not called on them." This family became serviceable to the pilgrim evangelists and their associates in later times. "At night," continues the traveler, "I have often hunted for a stone or a stick for a pillow, and in the morning when I took hold of the oar or setting-pole I had to do it as gently as I could, by reason of the soreness of my hands, which were much blistered and bruised in rowing the boat. We attended to family worship both night and morning, although we slept in the woods, and the presence of the Lord was with us of a truth."

They reached the port of Oswego, on Lake Ontario, and prepared to launch out upon the great water. After working their way for twenty miles a furious storm arose, and they had to steer for "the Black River country." The "waves dashed terribly," and before they reached the shore they struck a rock, which split the boat. They were in peril, but escaped with the wetting of their books, their most precious treasure. When they went ashore they made a fire, dried their baggage, and mended the boat as well as they could. The next day they embarked again on the lake, but the wind was directly ahead, and compelled them to turn their course. They made for Salmon River, where they put in for that day; and early next morning started again, and pulled at the oars till daylight disappeared in the west. They went round Stony Point into Hungary Bay, and landed on Grenadier Island. When they struck the shore Woolsey sprang out of the boat and fell exhausted on the beach. "I never," he says, "knew rest to be so sweet before. But it would not do to sit still; therefore we kindled a fire, hung on the tea-kettle, cooked some victuals, ate our supper, attended family worship, and retired to rest. Our weariness invited repose, nor did the murmur of the waves disturb our slumbers; and besides, we had that very necessary requisite to sound sleep recommended by Dr. Franklin, namely, a good conscience." This island is in the mouth of Hungary Bay, and is subject to high winds. They were detained there until they were reduced to an allowance of bread, having only one biscuit a day. He would have given considerable, he says, for a piece of bread as big as his hand if he could have obtained it; but they were afraid of making too free with their little stock, lest it should not last until they could get from the island. They ate their last biscuit about the middle of the day they left the island, and got into harbor on the main land about eleven o'clock at night, where they put up at the house of their friend, Captain Parrott. He and his wife were members of the Church, and received them very kindly. She hastened to make supper ready, "but it was as much as I could do," adds Woolsey, "to keep my hands from the bread until all was ready. We took care not to eat too much that night, fearing it might not be so well for us. We retired to rest on feather beds, but it was a restless night to us all. Brother Coleman had a mind to leave the bed and take to the floor, but I told him we must get used to it; so he submitted. But our slumbers were not half so sweet as on the sandy beach and pebbled shore, when we were rocked by the wind, and lulled by the rippling wave."

Methodists of Canada may well rehearse the story of the self-sacrificing pioneers of the Gospel, who thus brought to their land those blessings of Christianity which have since rendered their country a garden of the Lord. The itinerants hastened to separate and proclaim their message through the scattered settlements — Dunham to Niagara Circuit, Coleman to the Bay of Quinte, Woolsey to Oswegothe. They were too far apart to meet often; but they longed for such rare interviews and mutual support, and when they did occur they were high festivals. "The distance," says Woolsey, "was sixty or seventy miles, and a great part of the way I had to travel by the help of marked trees instead of roads. One day I was lost in the woods, and wandered about for some time, and being on foot I tore my clothes very much with the brushwood. But I got safely through at last, and our meeting was more joyful than if either of us had found a purse of gold."

The itinerants were received as angels from God by the people, so long destitute of the ordinances of religion. Woolsey, full of geniality and fervor, was especially "popular." Crowds gathered from great distances to his appointments, in houses and cabins, but he became alarmed under their plaudits, for no immediate fruit appeared. "My soul," he says, "was in great distress, for I feared lest it should be found that I had 'daubed with untempered mortar.' I wanted to have the people blessed, and wished that Brother Dunham would come and preach there, for the people flocked to hear, and I thought he might do them good. The more the people applauded the worse I felt." He studied and prayed to know the will of God respecting them, and at length concluded that he would preach in a more admonitory manner. He did so, and "when I closed my meeting," he writes, "my soul was full of peace, and I rejoiced in God my Saviour. I now felt happy that I had done my duty, and that if one half of the congregation were to oppose me, it would not disturb my peace." The next day he heard that the people were dissatisfied. One said, "He is not the man he used to be." Another said, "He now shows his cloven foot;" and others that they would not hear him again. "But these things did not move me," he adds. "When I came there again, instead of my large and smiling congregation, I had about thirty hearers; but neither did this move me. Before preaching I went into a room by myself to pray. While thinking on what text I should preach, a passage of Scripture came to my mind, and such a field opened before me that I was almost lost to all things here below. When I began the meeting a young woman fell to the floor and soon after another cried out for mercy. I thought I must finish my sermon, but I might as well have preached to the walls, the cries of the mourners were so great; so I left my pulpit, which was nothing more than a chair, and went to the mourners, and prayed for them, and encouraged them to believe on the Lord Jesus." And thus did his faithfulness result in an extensive "revival." "We were favored," he says, "with good times on the circuit that year. In the second town I formed a class of seventeen members, mostly seekers; but when I came round again they had found peace to their souls. I also formed a class in the northeast part of the fourth town, of ten members, all mourners; and it was with them as Mr. Wesley once said, 'They were ripe for the gospel.' They thought that they must do everything the preacher said. So I told them they must pray, and on the Lord's day they must meet together and worship God as well as they could. They must repent, and believe, and God would bless them. They accordingly met together, read the Scriptures, and sung hymns with one another, but for some time no one dared to pray. At length one woman said she had as much reason to pray as any one there, and then added, 'Let us pray.' When she began, they all began, and all found peace, except herself. Her husband said she was on her knees ten times on their way home, and when in sight of home she cried out, 'Lord, must I be the only one that goes home without a blessing? Bless me, even me, O my God!' She did not pray in vain; but though for a time she was seemingly refused an answer, the Lord at length spoke peace to her soul. She and her husband then went on their way rejoicing, and the little flock prospered greatly from this time forward as long as I continued with them." It is by such incidents that we get a real, an interior view of the religious and frontier life of the country in these primitive times. The simple and grateful people prized their devoted pastors. Woolsey records touching instances of their affectionate gratitude. "When," he says, "the time came for me to leave the circuit, they were so afraid that they should be left without preaching, (inasmuch as the preachers that went to Canada volunteered,) that they offered their lands. One and another offered fifty acres, and so on, according to their abilities. I told them I did not come after their lands, but that they might depend on having preaching notwithstanding my removal. One man followed me down to the water side, and there we sat for some time, and talked and wept together; and when I got into the boat, he threw his arms around me, and waded knee-deep into the water, and said, 'If you will but come back again, as long as I have two mouthfuls of bread you shall have one.' " In his old age, recalling these scenes, he writes: "It was to me a source of inexpressible satisfaction that I had been made useful to a few of my fellow-creatures, though of another nation; and the thought of meeting them on Canaan's happy shore, after the trials of life are over, and of greeting them as my spiritual children, often gilds the shadows of my supernumerary hours, and gives brilliancy to the rays of my descending sun."

At the close of the year the evangelists reported four hundred and eighty-three [15] members, omitting those of Woolsey's circuit, which are not recorded. They had now three circuits, and their communicants had increased more than one third since the returns of 1794. Sixty-five of the increase were in the Niagara region, probably the fruits of good Major Neal's labors, the first Methodist (local) preacher of Upper Canada, who, as we have seen, began to labor there as early as 1786. Dunham, though ostensibly a presiding elder of the whole field, in 1794, had really formed a circuit, on his return from the Conference with Coleman and Woolsey, and made it the chief scene of his labors. The itinerants went rejoicing to the Conference of 1795, appointed to be held at New York city, but transferred to White Plains on account of the yellow fever. If their difficulties on the route were less than in the previous year, yet Woolsey suffered more, for his health had been broken. They started from the Bay of Quinte in a bateau [Oxford Dict. bateau n. a light river-boat, esp. of the flat-bottomed kind used in Canada. — DVM]. Woolsey had escaped for some days a severe attack of fever and ague, but the labor of rowing, and the night air, brought it back. They found shelter again, on the banks of the Oswego, at the cabin of the poor settler whose sick and nearly starving family they had relieved. The story of their entertainment there is a lesson to the prosperous husbandmen of that region in our day. "The woman said she was as glad to see us as she would have been to see her own father. They seemed to be doing well as to the things of this world. The man had cleared some of his land, and planted corn and potatoes. They had also two or three cows. They kindly invited us to tarry a while, which we readily consented to do. We told them we had plenty of dry provisions, and asked the woman if she had any milk, and said we would be glad of a little. They had plenty of good milk, but that was not considered good enough by our generous hostess for the men who had visited them in their affliction, and had relieved them in their distresses, so she offered us cream; but we refused at first to eat of it, until her generosity overcame our scruples. Such was the gratitude of this family for the kindness we had shown them on our way to Canada that it seemed as if they could never do enough to make us welcome. Had they been as rich as Abraham of old, I have no doubt they would have 'killed the fatted calf' for us, and 'baked cakes' for our entertainment, for they boiled of their potatoes and green corn for us, and laid heavy contributions upon the cucumbers and watermelons for our sakes, accounting nothing too good for us that was in their power to bestow. The good man went three or four miles up the river with us in order to help us up the rapids, and, when we parted, wished us every blessing.

They got through their journey in thirteen days, whereas in going to Canada they were nineteen; but before they had ascended the Oswego River Woolsey had the ague and fever every day, and when they came to Oneida Lake he was exhausted. His companions at length concluded to take him to the shore, where he could be in the shade. He fainted as they landed. On recovering his consciousness, "it seemed to me," he says, "as if I had just waked out of sleep. At one time I lay all night by the side of a fence, with a burning fever raging in every vein, without any covering but my clothes, or canopy but the heavens, with not so much as Jonah's gourd to shelter me from the chilling dews, or pillow on which to recline my weary head. These were some of the 'shadows of itinerancy;' but they also have 'fled away.' "

They were refreshed at the Conference; the annual session was a jubilee in those days, and many a worn out itinerant, arriving at it impoverished and discouraged, received there a pittance of pecuniary help, was inspirited by the communion and chivalry of his fellow-sufferers, and went forth with renewed vows and courage. "We loved one another," says Woolsey, "and, while we were together, the Spirit of glory and of God rested upon us. We felt willing to live, to suffer, and to die together. If one had received a little more than his brother, he was willing to divide with him. We hoped to share the spoil together in a better world, when all our toils are over, and all our griefs are spent, and this hope was as an anchor to the soul amid all the tempests and billows with which we had to contend. When the appointments were read out the preachers appeared to receive them gladly. My appointment was to the Bay of Quinte Circuit. On our way to Canada we were met at Schenectady by some of our Canadian friends, who helped us on our way. We ascended the Mohawk in company with Captain Parrott, and got along without any difficulty until we came to the Oneida Lake." There they were driven by a terrible night storm, "the waves break in over them with fury." "We are all dead men!" exclaimed their captain. "The Lord will provide," responded Woolsey, and the "good providence of God brought them safely through." The little corps of evangelists had raised up a single recruit, Sylvanus Keeler, who appears with them in the Minutes this year (1795) as the colleague of Woolsey, on the Bay of Quinte Circuit. "He proved," says the Canadian chronicler of the Church, "a good and faithful minister of Christ." We trace him through about twelve years of hard itinerant labor on various circuits in the province, at the close of which he retires into the "local ranks," the fate of most of his ministerial brethren in these days of the poverty of the Church, when the necessities of their growing families compelled them to resort to other means of support, but seldom or never to abandon their Sabbath labors. Sylvanus Keeler retreated to a farm in Elizabethtown, near Brockville, where, and in the surrounding country, he continued to preach "all his days." He became a patriarch among the societies, his hair "wool-white, long, flowing down upon his shoulders;" his "voice deep, yet soft as the roll of thunder in the distance." He died in the faith. Another Canadian authority, familiar with the local Church antiquities, gives us a few further intimations about this veteran, whom our ecclesiastical literature has almost entirely ignored. The name, he says, of Sylvanus Keeler is worthy of being rescued from oblivion. He had no advantages of early education, and, when he first began speaking in public, it is said, could scarcely read a hymn; but, by assiduous efforts, he so far surmounted this defect as to become possessed of tolerable attainments in English. He had, moreover, endowments, natural, and of divine bestowment, which went far to counterbalance his deficiencies. His person was commanding, and even handsome. His voice, for speaking at least, if not for singing also, was excellent. It was clear, melodious, and strong. The distance at which the old people say he could be heard was marvelous. His spirit and manners, too, were most bland and engaging, and his zeal and fervor knew no bounds, and suffered no abatement. He traveled for several years while Canada was yet new and poor, and the preachers were little provided for. He was often three months at a time from his wife and family of small children. The story of their destitution, and the embarrassments they endured in those times of destitution, might bring tears from eyes 'the most unused to weep.' No wonder that his return to them was always considered a jubilee. When the season of his periodical visit drew near, his little ones would mount the fence and strain their eyes to get the first glimpse of their returning father, often for hours, and even days, before his appearance. In view of such privations, could any one blame him for 'locating,' and making provision for those for whom he was the natural provider? But he did not cease to be useful when he ceased to itinerate. He was greatly beloved and respected by the people in the surrounding neighborhoods, and made very instrumental of good to them. And after his family grew up, and were able to provide for themselves, "Father Keeler," as he was now called, extended his labors to greater distances from home, carrying the Gospel into the destitute settlements of immigrants beyond the Rideau. His last public labor was in a quarterly meeting in the 'Boyd Settlement,' beyond the Mississippi. "His name is still like 'ointment poured forth' in all the region from the St. Lawrence to the settlements beyond the last mentioned river. And his piety lives in the persons of his descendants, who have been the faithful adherents of the Wesleyan cause through every vicissitude. Thus it is that 'he being dead, yet speaks' for that Master whose truth he so zealously pro claimed while living." [16]

Let good "Father Keeler" "live forever," then, in the veneration of Canadian Methodists, though his record in the history of the Church must be so brief: To him belongs, so far as I can ascertain, the enviable distinction of having been the first native Methodist itinerant of the province, and he gave his whole ministerial life to its people.

Woolsey and Keeler labored successfully on their hard circuit this year, though the former was still a sufferer from severe disease. He had to go over it on foot, being unable to get his horse across the bays and rivers. He traveled many miles a day, preaching sometimes twice, and seldom sitting down from morning till night. "My knees and ankles," he says, "pained me very much; and when I was preaching I used to stand sometimes on one foot, and then on the other, to get rest. But rest was not easily obtained, even in bed, my knees and ankles were so swelled and full of pain. My soul, however, was happy in the Lord, and my spirit rejoiced in God my Saviour."

On his return to the next Conference, his brethren withdrew him from the inclement climate of the province and sent him to Connecticut. His Canadian campaigning was thus ended, but his services in helping to lay the foundations of the Church in that distant country are gratefully appreciated by its people. He continued to travel in the states down to the year 1838, when he was recorded among the "superannuates." He went into a quiet and beautiful retreat at Rye, on Long Island Sound, where he spent his remaining years, venerated and beloved among his neighbors, a dear and happy old man — a St. John among the Churches, laboring occasionally, as his strength would admit, writing the unpretentious but most entertaining notes of his early evangelical adventures, and dying at last in great peace and comfort, in 1850 — "a holy man," say his brethren, in their Conference Minutes, "a good preacher, and he shall be held in universal remembrance." [17] He ranks as one of the founders of the denomination in New Eng land as well as in Canada.

In 1796 Dunham and Coleman returned to the province, accompanied by two new laborers, men of note, Samuel Coate and Hezekiah C. Wooster.

Coate had been received into the New York Conference of 1794, and had traveled Flanders Circuit, N. J., and Albany Circuit, New York. He went to the province, therefore, a deacon. He was a unique character, and has left many an agreeable and some sad reminiscences in the Canadian Church. He would have passed for an exquisite, had it not been for the evident piety and laborious zeal of his early ministry. He was a wonder among the simple people of the wilderness, but they admired more than they revered him. He had a fascinating eloquence, and "excelled," it is said, "all who went before him," and, some judges think, "all who have come after him." [18] He was fastidious about his dress; most of the itinerants of that day had the neatness and mien of gentlemen, but Coate ranked above most of them in this respect. He was among the last who retained the clerical gown introduced at the organization of the denomination in 1784. His long hair received special attention, and it flowed down upon his shoulders in graceful curls. "Every night, with his garters, would he tie up his beautiful looks, and every morning would he comb them out, allowing them repose on his shoulders and back. Indeed, he was the Absalom of the people, attracting the eyes and winning the admiration of all. His wife, too, was like Abigail, 'of good understanding, and of a beautiful countenance.' When the husband and wife were together, they were called the handsomest pair in Canada." Another authority says, "He was evidently a very extraordinary person for such a day and country. He swept like a meteor over the land, and spellbound the astonished gaze of the wondering new settlers. Nor was it astonishment alone he excited. He was the heaven-anointed and successful instrument of the conversion of hundreds. His success, in the early part of his career, was like that of Whitfield." [19] His manners were in the highest degree courteous and affable. He had, however, some eccentricities, but they were of a favorable kind. "His manner of entering the houses of his people was singular and very striking. On coming to the home of a friend in Adolphustown, he reined up his horse without the gate, alighted, took off his saddle-bags, and came to the door. The door was opened for him, and he came in. But instead of speaking to the family and shaking hands, he knelt down by a chair, and, after praying a short time, he arose and then very affectionately greeted every member of the family. Although no preacher probably follows such a practice of 'secret' prayer, yet no one can condemn, but rather admire, this trait of inward recollectedness and godly simplicity. Samuel Coate's wife was not a hindrance but a helpmate to her husband. Having no family, she used to hold meetings in her house with females, and would often mount a horse and accompany her husband to his appointments."

He labored about fourteen years in Canada, from the Bay of Quinte to Montreal; six years he was presiding elder; and few Methodist preachers swayed a larger influence or had better prospects, when, borne away by his popularity, as is supposed, he entered upon a devious course which terminated apparently in his ruin. In 1810 he was located by the New York Conference. He had erected a costly church and parsonage for the Methodists in Montreal, and traveled largely in the states and in England to collect funds for its debt, studying meanwhile the French language that he might reach to the Canadian French. But on his return he accepted an offer of ordination in the English Church. He was settled over a congregation, but soon retired. He then became a merchant in Montreal, was unsuccessful, and lost all his property. Being an unrivaled penman, he attempted to support his family by that accomplishment. He could write the Lord's prayer with microscopic fineness on an English sixpence, or on the nail of his thumb. He achieved a masterpiece of penmanship, took it to England, had it engraved at an expense of œ1,600, traveled all over England selling it, at œ2 a copy, obtained access, by his ingratiating manners, to all kinds of society, and at last fell into habits of vice. His excellent wife and daughter, whom he had left in Canada, never saw him again. "He never," says the local historian, "returned to the land in which he had spent useful and happy years, nor to the people who loved and admired him, and who, notwithstanding his fall, would have received him again, even a the Saviour received repenting Peter." But "the old Methodists" of the province clung, it is said, to the hope that he died penitent, for he had sent a letter home deeply mourning over his downfall.

Wooster was a very different character. He left, at his death, on a fragment of paper, the following dates of his history: "Born, May 20, 1771; convinced of sin, October 9, 1791; born again, December 1, 1791; sanctified, February 6, 1792." Religion with him "was in demonstration of the Spirit and of power." No vagueness attended the facts of his Christian experience, nor the presentation of experimental truth in his ministrations. He might pre-eminently be called "a flaming herald" of the word, for it was "in his heart as a burning fire." He commenced his ministry in 1793, on the Granville Circuit, in Massachusetts. As this circuit was within the limits of the Albany District, then superintended by the devoted Thomas Ware, I suppose he joined the Albany Conference of that year. The two following years he spent in arduous labors on circuits in New Jersey and New York. In 1796, ready to suffer the loss of all things for Christ, he volunteered, with Samuel Coate, to join the pioneers beyond the Canadian line. His history, during that expedition, would form a romantic and almost incredible narrative. Three weeks were spent on their route, during which they lodged every night under the trees of the forest. He traveled about three years in Canada, preaching almost daily, and with a power seldom equaled in the history of the Christian ministry. There was, indeed, in his word, an energy quite irresistible. The dwellers in the wilderness, long destitute of the means of religion, heard with amazement his overwhelming eloquence, and often fell before him, in their forest congregations, like dead men. One of his successors there says: "Such was the holy fervor of his soul, his deep devotion to God, his burning love for the souls of his fellow-men, that he was the happy instrument of kindling up such a fire in the hearts of the people, wherever he went, particularly in Upper Canada, that all the waters of strife and opposition have not been able to quench it ... The grace of God wrought mightily in him. O what awful sensations ran through the assemblies while Calvin Wooster, and others of like spirit, were denouncing the just judgments of God against impenitent sinners, in such pointed language as made the 'ear to tingle,' and the heart to palpitate!" [20]

He was a man of Abrahamic faith, and his prayers seemed directly to enter heaven, and prevail with God. He carried with him an unceasing spirit of prayer. Often at midnight would he rise and call upon his God, while the inmates of the house where he made his temporary abode were awed by the solemn voice of his supplications ascending amid the silence.

Such was the unction of his spirit, and the bold power of his appeals to the wicked, that few of them could stand before him; they would either rush out of the house, or fall to the floor under his word. An anecdote is related in illustration of the power of his faith. A revival occurred under his labors, which was attended with overpowering effects among the people. His presiding elder, Dunham, entering the assembly at a time when the people were falling to the earth under the power of the truth, condemned the excitement, and knelt down to pray that God would allay it. Wooster knelt by his side, and in a whispering tone prayed, "Lord, bless Brother Dunham! Lord, bless Brother Dunham!" He had not prayed thus for many minutes, before the presiding elder was smitten down upon the floor; his complaints were turned into grateful praise, and he went forth spreading the divine flame through the length and breadth of his district, "to the joy and salvation of hundreds of immortal souls." [21]

The rigors of the climate, and the excess of his labors, injured his health, and in 1798 he was seized with pulmonary consumption. Yet he did not immediately give tip his ministrations, and his marvelous power over his hearers continued even when he could no longer speak loud enough to be heard except by those who stood immediately around him. It is authentically recorded; that when so far reduced as to be unable to speak above a whisper, his broken utterance, conveyed by another to the assembly, would thrill them like a trumpet, and fall with such power on the attention of the hearers that stout-hearted men were smitten down to the floor; and his very aspect is said to have so shone with "the divine glory that it struck conviction into the hearts of many who beheld it."

At last, hopeless of any further health, he returned to his parental home, to die amid his kindred. I have discovered a single glimpse of him, on his route homeward, in the journal of the quaint but earnest-minded Lorenzo Dow. That eccentric man had been laboring sturdily on extensive circuits in New England. Through all his wandering course, he carried with him a profound religious solicitude, not unmixed, perhaps, with the infirmities of partial insanity; and amid apparent ebullitions of humor, his spirit hungered and thirsted after God. He writes in his own unpolished but explicit style and with deep suggestiveness, that when he was on the Orange Circuit he "felt something within that wanted to be done away. I spoke to one and another concerning the pain which I felt in my happiest moments, but no guilt. Some said one thing and some another; yet none spoke to my case, but seemed to be like physicians that did not understand the nature of my disorder. Thus the burden continued, and sometimes seemed greater than the burden of guilt for justification, until I fell in with Thomas Dewey, on Cambridge Circuit. He told me about Calvin Wooster, in Upper Canada — that he enjoyed the blessing of sanctification. I felt a great desire arise in my heart to see the man, if it might be consistent with the divine will; and not long after, I heard he was passing through the circuit, and going home to die. I immediately rode five miles to the house, but found he was gone another five miles further. I went into the room where he was asleep; he appeared to me more like one from the eternal world than like one of my fellow-mortals. I told him, when he awoke, who I was, and what I had come for. Said he, 'God has convicted you for the blessing of sanctification, and the blessing is to be obtained by the simple act of faith, the same as the blessing of justification.' I persuaded him to tarry in the neighborhood a few days; and a couple of evenings after the above, when I had done preaching, he spoke, or rather whispered out an exhortation, as his voice was so broken, in consequence of praying, in the stir in Upper Canada, where from twenty to thirty were frequently blessed at a meeting. He told me that if he could get sinners under conviction, crying for mercy, they would kneel down, a dozen of them, and not rise till they found peace; for, said he, we did believe God would bless them, and it was according to our faith. At this time he was in a consumption, and, a few weeks after, expired. While whispering out the above exhortation, the power which attended the same reached the hearts of the people, and some who were standing and sitting fell like men shot in the field of battle; and I felt it like a tremor run through my soul and every vein, so that it took away my limb power, and I fell to the floor, and by faith saw a greater blessing than I had hitherto experienced, or, in other words, felt a, conviction of the need of a deeper work of grace in my soul-feeling some of the remains of the evil nature, the effect of Adam's fall, still remaining, and it my privilege to have it eradicated or done away. My soul was in an agony — I could but groan out my desires to God. He came to me, and said, 'Believe the blessing is now.' No sooner had the words dropped from his lips than I strove to believe the blessing mine now, with all the powers of my soul; then the burden dropped or fell from my breast, and a solid joy and a gentle running peace filled my soul. From that time to this I have not had the ecstasy of joy or a downcast spirit as formerly; but more of an inward, simple, sweet running peace, from day to day, so that prosperity or adversity doth not produce the ups and downs as formerly; but my soul is more like the ocean, while its surface is uneven by reason of the boisterous wind, the bottom is still calm; so that a man may be in the midst of outward difficulties, and yet the center of the soul may be calmly stayed on God." I make no apology for this citation. It is a gem from a rude casket, but worthy to be strung among the many unpolished yet precious jewels which glitter on the thread of our history.

Such was the influence of Wooster on this wayward but energetic man — such was the power of his eloquence, whispered from lips blanched with mortal disease, on the rude congregations of the Northwest.

He passed on to his home and lay down to die; but before his spirit left the body, it seemed already in heaven. He was asked, when his power of speech was almost gone, if his confidence in God was still strong. "Strong! strong!" was his whispered but exulting reply. When he was fast sinking, and death was almost in view, he exclaimed that "the nearer he drew to eternity, the brighter heaven shined upon him." On the 6th of November, 1798, he passed into the heavens.

With such men; of course, the whole region of their travels was soon astir. Bangs says that a great revival ensued, which extended far into the states. Hundreds were awakened and converted, and no little opposition followed. Bangs records examples reported to him on the spot. "A stout opposer of the Methodists," he says, "hearing that his wife was in a prayer meeting, rushed violently into the room, seized his wife, and dragged her to the door, when, attempting to open it, he was himself seized with trembling, his knees failed him, he fell helpless upon the floor, and was fain to beg an interest in the prayers of the very people whom he had so much despised and persecuted. He rose not till the Lord released him from his sins and made him a partaker of his pardoning mercy. This very man afterward became an itinerant minister, with whom I was personally acquainted, and had the relation of these facts from his own lips. All, however, were not so fortunate. Coleman, calling to visit a woman under conviction for sin, while talking with her, was assailed by her husband, who struck him on the forehead so violently that he carried the mark for a considerable time."

Opposition, however, could not stand long before Wooster. His strange power was a terror to evil doers. The Church antiquarian [22] to whom we are indebted for so many interesting facts of our early Canadian history says: "He was a rare example of the holiness he preached. Of his piety and devotion the old people were never weary of speaking in terms of the most glowing admiration. His very breath was prayer. An old lady who entertained him, informed me that on his arrival he would ask the privilege of going up to the loft of their one-storied log building, which was the only place of retirement they had, and to which he had to mount up by means of a ladder. There he would remain in prayer till the settlers assembled for preaching, when he would descend like Moses from the mount with a face radiant with holy comfort. And truly his preaching was 'with the Holy Ghost sent down from heaven.' It was not boisterous, but solemn, spiritual, powerful. He was the instrument of a revival characterized by depth and comprehensiveness, a revival of the work of sanctification. Under his word the people fell like men slain in battle. This was even the case when he became so exhausted that he could preach no longer, or his voice was drowned in the cries of the people. He would stand with angelic countenance and upturned eye, bringing his hands together, and saying in a loud whisper, 'Smite them, my Lord! my Lord, smite them!' And 'smite them' he did; for 'the slain of the Lord were many.' "

The societies were now rapidly multiplied, the circuits extended in every direction, and at the next Conference nearly eight hundred (795) members were reported — a gain of 321, for the year, averaging more than eighty for the labors of each preacher.

Methodism was thus spreading effectively through all these middle and northern sections of its vast field. It already arrayed within them an army of more than a hundred and twenty-four thousand (124,029) members. Its ministry had become a mighty force, in numbers and character. Humble edifices were rising rapidly, temporary sanctuaries, destined to give way in our day to commodious and beautiful temples. Its people were generally poor and illiterate, but there were not a few families of wealth and high social position interspersed among them. That its foundations now laid were substantial and broad, its subsequent history has attested.

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ENDNOTES

1 "It may be certainly reckoned the first Methodist class in Canada." — Playter. See "Women of Methodism," where I correct some typographical and other errors which, escaped in the account of Canada in my second volume.

2 Playter, p. 41.

3 Carroll's "Past and Present," pp. 172, 175.

4 Playter, p. 34, and letter of Rev. John Carroll, Canada, to the author.

5 Playter, p. 40.

6 Rev. Dr. Strachan's Funeral Sermon on Bishop Mountain, 1825.

7 Bangs (Alphabetic Catalogue, vol. 4, App.) records him as located in 1793; but be does not so appear in the Minutes, nor do we ever again find him on their record.

8 Playter's History of Methodism in Canada, p. 42.

9 Rev. Geo. Coles' "Seven Years in America," p. 32

10 Rev. John Carroll's "Past and Present," p. 171.

11 Not "Ohio," as the obituary in the Minutes of 1841-42 states.

12 See "Woolsey's Supernumerary," etc.

13 Minutes of 1841-42.

14 "The Supernumerary," p. 5; he does not say where.

15 Playter errs in giving the number, p. 45.

16 Carroll's "Past and Present," p. 175.

17 Minutes, 1850.

18 Playter, p. 55.

19 Carroll.

20 Bangs, anno 1799.

21 Memorials of Methodism, etc., p. 213.

22 Carroll.

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