Nathan Bangs · 15 of 29

Chapter 12. From the Close of the General Conference of 1832 to the Beginning of the General Conference of 1836. · 1835

The General Conference of 1832 recommended to the bishops and the managers of our Missionary Society South America as a proper field for missionary enterprise; and with a view to ascertain the state of things more accurately from personal observation, that some person should be sent to explore the accessible parts of the country, and report on the prospect and feasibility of establishing missions among the people in that populous region.

It is well known that from the time of the conquest of this country by the Portuguese and Spaniards, the Roman Catholic religion had been established by law, and had, therefore, incorporated itself into all the civil institutions and regulation of the country nor was it less intolerant toward Protestants than it was cruel toward the natives at the time of its conquest over their liberties and independence. After, however, the liberation of the provinces from the dominion of Spain and Portugal, a more tolerant spirit was gradually diffusing itself through the community, and it was hoped that the time had arrived when, by the use of suitable means, an impression might be made, at least upon some minds, favorable to the propagation of a purer form of Christianity.

South America, at this time, was divided into no less than nine distinct governments, the largest of which is the empire of Brazil, belonging to the Portuguese; while Guiana belonged to the English, Dutch, and French; and Patagotna is possessed by the aborigines; the remaining republics though wrested from the domination of the kingdom of Spain, were under Spanish rule and government. But though the several colonies had succeeded, after various struggles and sanguinary conflicts, to emancipate themselves from foreign dominion, they were yet in an unsettled state, and much harassed with intestine divisions and civil commotions, one party succeeding another often after bloody contests, in supreme power and influence. Since their disenthralment, however, from the potentates of Europe, many foreigners from Great Britain, Germany, France, and the United States, had settled in some of the principal cities, for the purposes of trade and commerce, and were supposed to be accessible to Protestant ministers; and being near neighbors to us, inhabiting a part of the American continent, and assimilating their civil institutions, as nearly as their circumstances would seem to allow to those of the United States, it was thought to be our duty to make an effort to establish our religious institutions in that country.

To this were much encouraged soon after the adjournment of the last General Conference, by a letter received from a Christian gentleman, a member of our Church, who had resided for some time at Buenos Ayres, in which we were informed that he had succeeded in forming a small class, and that they were quite desirous of having a missionary of our denomination sent among them. His letter was submitted to the board of managers, and after due deliberation, it was most heartily recommended to the bishops to select some suitable person and send him on a missionary tour to South America, making Rio de Janeiro and Buenos Ayres the chief points of observation. Accordingly Bishop Andrew appointed the Rev. Fountain B. Pitts, of the Tennessee conference, for this important service, and after traveling through various parts of the country, holding missionary meetings and taking up collections, he set sail in the month of July, 1835, for his place of destination. He visited Rio de Janeiro, Buenos Ayres, Monte Video, and several other places, and was generally received, more particularly by the English and American residents, with great affection and respect, and the object of his mission was highly appreciated. Brother Pitts wrote that he found a few pious persons both in Rio do Janeiro and Buenos Ayres, to whom he preached with lively satisfaction, and was much encouraged with the prospect of establishing missions in both these cities, and probably also in other places of less note. These encouraging representations led to other measures of a mole important and permanent character, which with be noticed hereafter.

The unusual peace and harmony prevailing in our ranks for the five years past, and the zeal exemplified by ministers and people for the promotion of the cause of God by the ordinary means of the gospel; as well as by institutions of learning, sabbath schools, and the distribution of Bibles and tracts building churches and parsonages seemed to awaken new energies, and to call forth the resources of the Church in a much more liberal manner than heretofore for the extension of the work on every hand, but more particularly by means of missionary labors. We did not know, indeed, how much could be done until the trial was made. And the several institutions above alluded to, instead of weakening one another, acted reciprocally upon each other; the one tending to excite the other to more vigorous action, and all uniting to produce the most salutary and happy results. This was seen in every department of our extended work, and the truth of the inspired declaration was exemplified by every days experience, “He that deviseth liberal things, by liberal things shall he stand,” and “he that watereth shall be watered again.”

In the same proportion that we enlarged the sphere of our operations for the conversion of the world, did the means accumulate for carrying on our work; and by inducing all to contribute something, none were oppressed, while each one felt that he had an interest in the general came he was aiding to support. By means of these appliances the field of missionary labor especially, both in the new countries and the hitherto unoccupied places in the older settlements, were constantly supplied with gospel ordinances, the vigorous action of the heart of the Church sending out, through these main arteries, the life-blood to every limb and member of the spiritual body, and they in return, by a lively exercise of their functions, sending it back to the center, thus keeping up that constant circulation which is essentially the health and growth of the entire system.

Hence, while a number of the places heretofore supported by the Missionary Society had so far prospered as to be taken among the regular circuits, new ones were this year established and prosecuted with vigor and success. Brazderville, High’s River, and Smithport, in the bounds of the Pittsburgh conference, and Ripley, Port Washington, Thenton, Calhoun, Cold Water, and Saganaw, under the patronage of the Ohio conference, were all established this year, and the men of God who were sent to these places had the happiness to rejoice over sinners converted to God. Highland, Litchfield, Mount Pleasant, Barbersville, Manchester, and Pikesville, with in the bounds of the Kentucky conference embraced new tracts of country, hitherto unsupplied with the gospel of Jesus Christ, and they amply repaid the labor bestowed upon them.

But the mot extensive field was spread out within the bound of the Illinois conference, as the streams of emigrants were flowing into that state about this time with great rapidity in addition to the missions before mentioned undertaken by the Rev. John Clark, the Menominee was opened for the benefit of a tribe of Indians in the neighborhood of Green Bay the Milwaukee and Rock River, both of which extended far into the northwestern boundaries of that conference, besides various others, as Alton, Flat Branch, Pecan, Quincy, Knoxville, Iowa, Peoria, Bureau, and Ottowa; all of which embraced newly settled territories, fast rising in strength and importance, and the most of them have so prospered, that they have been taken into the regular work, are supporting their own institutions, and contributing to aid others.

But to carry the blessings of the gospel still further into the western regions, the Rev. Alfred Brunson was appointed to explore the country, and ascertain the feasibility of establishing missions among the Indian tribes on the upper waters of the Mississippi, and in the neighborhood of St. Peters, where the Sioux and Fox Indians have their habitations. Into these wild regions he penetrated, sometimes paddling his canoe over lakes and on the rivers, at other times wending his way through the trackless deserts or wide-spread prairies, on horseback, sleeping on the ground or in log cabins, with a view of conveying to these destitute people the blessings of salvation. He was generally received favorably by the few white people who had preceded him, by the agents of the government, and by the Indians, though he encountered some difficulties among the latter in consequence of wars which they were waging against each other. He finally settled at Prairie du Chien, at the confluence of the Wisconsin and Mississippi rivers, making it the center of missionary operations in the various settlements just then forming in that new country, and among the Indian tribes in the neighborhood. Several missions were begun, and though they have not been attended with which immediate fruit, when compared with our other Indian missions, yet it is hoped that a foundation has been thus laid for the future salvation of these people, and that the ordinances of religion, and religion itself, shall grow up with the growth of the settlements. As a means of accomplishing this very desirable object, schools were opened for the instruction of youth, and the good will of several chiefs was conciliated, who manifested a disposition to cooperate with the missionaries in striving to improve the condition of their people.

In the bounds of the Holston conference a missionary district was formed called Newton, in which there were no less than eight missions, employing nine preachers, including an Indian interpreter by the name of J. Fields, who had been converted to the Christian faith, and was now engaged in promoting the cause among his brethren, the Cherokees, of whom seven hundred and fifty-two were members of the Church. These several missions, though spread over a thinly settled country, were greatly blessed of God, as they returned the next year six hundred and sixty-five Church members.

The Henpeth mission, for the benefit of the colored population, Mountain, Holly Fork, and Centreville missions, established by the Tennessee conference, were commenced this year, and prosecuted with vigor and success.

Several new missions were begun this year in the bounds of the Mississippi conference, mostly for the benefit of the colored people, and they have been a means of conferring invaluable blessings upon them. And in the new territories embraced in the Alabama conference, in addition to those heretofore mentioned, the Nanny Warrior, Canebrake, Clayton, Lime Creek, Uchee, and Will’s Creek, were this year brought under spiritual culture by means of missionary labor, and they have yielded an abundant harvest as the reward of our exertions.

The work was also enlarged in the same means, chiefly for the salvation of the slaves on the rice and cotton plantations, in the bounds of the Georgia and South Carolina conferences, much to the gratification of the masters, and to the joy of the slaves, who were brought to the knowledge of the truth as it is in Jesus. Some others, in the older conferences, were undertaken, with various degrees of success and perhaps, in some instances, these domestic missions were increasing faster than our means would justify, though it as perfectly within the original scope and design of the Missionary Society to fill up, as far as practicable, every vacant place where the people were either too poor, or too indifferent to their spiritual interests, to provide for themselves. And that these exertions resulted highly favorable to the cause of Christ, has been abundantly manifested from the pleasing fact, that whole districts, and even annual conferences, have been raised up by means of these labors; and in the old and populous town of Worcester Mass., in which we had no standing until it was occupied as mission ground in the year 1831, we have now a society of upward of four hundred members and Worcester is the seat of the New England conference for 1841. Such results speak volumes in favor of the policy pursued by the Missionary Society. Indeed, nearly every new circuit was now formed under its auspices, by which the preacher was relieved from suffering, and the people from pecuniary burdens. Thus the more wealthy and older societies were blessed with the privilege of helping the poorer, and all in their men were contributing something for the general good.

Thirty-four preachers had died during the past year, eighty-nine located, one hundred and nineteen were returned supernumerary, one hundred and fifty superannuated, six had been expelled and two had withdrawn.

The Church was this year called to mourn over the death of two of her bishops, namely, William McKendree, the senior, and John Emory, the junior bishop, both of whom had filled their office with dignity and usefulness, the one for about twenty-seven years, and the other only about two years and six months.

Of the former, Bishop McKendree, we have already spoken when giving an account of his election in 1808. Of his early history, therefore, and of his labors in the ministry up to the time he entered upon the duties of the episcopal office, it is needless to say any thing here and nothing more than a sketch of his character and of his subsequent labors will now be attempted, nor indeed could more be accomplished, as the public have not yet been gratified with any published account of his life and death, except what is contained in his funeral sermon by Bishop Soule.

From the time of his entrance upon the arduous duties of his office until his death, he labored most assiduously to fulfill his high trust in such a manner as to preserve the unity, the purity, and integrity of the Church, and thereby to promote the cause of God among his fellow-men. In some of the first years of his labors as an itinerating superintendent of the Methodist Episcopal Church, he was in the habit of traveling from one end of the continent to the other on horseback, frequently exposed to the hardships and privations incident to the new countries, and to the fatigues of preaching every day, besides giving attention to the numerous calls arising out of his official relation to the Church. His perpetual labor so wore upon his constitution, which had indeed been severely tried by his great exertions in the western country previous to his election, that even at the end of four years, when he was deprived of the able counsel and services of Bishop Asbury, he was scarcely adequate to the duties of his station. He, however, so far recovered as to pursue his calling with his accustomed diligence and fervor until the General Conference of 1820, when he was released from the responsibility of discharging regularly the duties of a general superintendent; but only “so far as his health would prudently admit of it,” he was affectionately requested to “exercise his episcopal functions and superintending care.” In conformity with this request, he moved from one annual conference to another, as his strength would permit, presiding in the conferences occasionally, assisted in stationing the preachers, and gave his counsel on all matters pertaining to the welfare of the Church. Such, however, was the character of his complaints, a rheumatic affection, with frequent attacks of the asthma, attended with great prostration of strength, that he traveled often with great pain, passed sleepless nights and wearisome days; but be was borne up by a consciousness of the divine approbation, cheered by the affectionate greetings of his friends, and the prospect of that ample reward which awaited him in another world.

After the close of the General Conference of 1824, his constitution seemed to rally, and he went forward in the discharge of his duties with greater ease and cheerfulness, traveling extensively, preaching often at the conferences, attending camp and Quarterly meetings, and everywhere exhibiting an example of patience, diligence, and fortitude to all who beheld his perseverance in the work assigned him. To those unacquainted with the peculiar work of an itinerating superintendent of the Methodist Episcopal Church, it might seem strange that a man enfeebled by disease, oppressed by an accumulation of cares and labors, should, nevertheless, constantly move about from one part of the continent to another, cross and recross the Allegheny mountains, descend the valleys of the eastern rivers, preach to a few hearers in log cabins, to thousands under the foliage of the trees at camp meetings, and then visit the populous cities and villages, and make the pulpits sound with the voice of mercy and glad tidings. Yet such was the mode of life of Bishop McKendree. Habit had, indeed, rendered it necessary to life and comfort. So much so, that the very thought of being confined to one place was painful, and whenever such an event seemed inevitable, you might see the strugglings of a soul anxious to avert what he considered a calamity.

At the General Conference of 1828, which was held in Pittsburgh, Pa., though unable to preside, he was present in some of its sittings, and assisted by his counsel in those difficult questions which were then agitated, and finally adjusted in the manner heretofore related. To a man ever active to the interests of the Church, and who had devoted more than forty years of his best energies to promote its welfare, sharing alike in its weal or woe, it must have been highly gratifying to behold the issue of that convulsive struggle which so long agitated our Zion, and which, at one time, threatened a dissolution of its union. Bishop McKendree lived to see the portentous storm, which had been gathering in the heavens for about eight years, pass off without material injury, and to beheld peace and harmony serenely pervade the horizon, illuminated as it was by the mild beams from the “Sun of righteousness” which now shone out with renewed splendor upon the spacious fields which were whitening for the harvest.

From this time to the General Conference of 1832, which assembled that year in the city of Philadelphia, he continued his itinerary tours, often in the midst of such debility that he had to be assisted in and out of his carriage by his faithful traveling companion, through various parts of the continent, mostly in the south and west, enlivening the hearts of his friends by his cheerful submission to the divine will amidst the pains and afflictions of life, and receiving every favor showed him by the smile of gratitude and the embrace of paternal affection. At this conference he seemed to be tottering under the infirmities of age, and withering under the corroding influence of protracted disease, while his soul exerted its wonted energies in devising or approving of plans for the prosperity of the Church. Like a patriarch in the midst of his family, with his head silvered over by the frost of seventy-five winters and a countenance beaming with intelligence and good will, he delivered his valedictory remarks, which are remembered with lively emotions. Rising from his seat to take his departure from the conference the day before it adjourned he halted for a moment, leaning upon his staff; with faltering lips, but with eyes swimming in tears, he said, “My brethren and children, love one another. Let all things be done without strife or vainglory, and strive to keep the unity of the Spirit in the bonds of peace.” He then spread forth his trembling hands, and lifting his eyes toward the heavens, pronounced with faltering and affectionate accents the apostolic benediction.

This was his last interview with the delegates of the annual conferences in General Conference assembled, for a the next General Conference in 1836 his funeral sermon was preached by one of his surviving colleagues, Bishop Soule, who had attended him much for several of the last years of his life. He gives the following account of the last hours of Bishop McKendree: —

“In the spring of 1834 he returned to Nashville, visited and preached in different places through the summer, and in the fall attended the Tennessee conference. He preached for the last time in the new church in Nashville, on Sabbath, the 23d of November, 1834. Here ended the pulpit labors of this venerable minister of the gospel of Jesus Christ, who had traveled and preached for almost half a century. Here that penetrating, yet pleasant voice, which had been heard with delight by listening thousands, in almost all the populous cities of these United States, and which had sounded forth the glad tidings of salvation in the cabins of the poor on the remote frontiers, or to numerous multitudes gathered together in the forests of the western territories, and which savage tribes had heard proclaiming to them the unsearchable riches of Christ, died away to be heard no more. Here he finished the ministration of the words of eternal life, and closed his public testimony for the truth of the revelation of God. In the latter part of December he removed from Nashville to his brother’s, which was his last travel. From this time it was obvious that he was gradually sinking to the repose of the tomb. But he had one more conflict before the warfare was accomplished. From the time that Bishop McKendree became unable to perform the entire effective work of a general superintendent of the Methodist Episcopal Church, his mind was frequently deeply exercised with the apprehension that he might become unprofitable in the vineyard of his Lord. And it would seem as if he sometimes thought nothing was done, unless he could compass the whole work, as he had been accustomed to do in the days of his strength and vigor. He had for many years moved with the foremost in activity and perseverance, and the idea of following in the rear, and being left behind, was painful to him, and frequently drew tears from his eyes. And this sentiment often led him to exertions and labors far beyond his strength. This fear that he should outlive his usefulness in the Church of God, and become unprofitable to his fellow-creatures, was the last afflicting exercise of mind through which he passed; and from this he was speedily and happily delivered by the prayer of faith. He sunk patiently and sweetly into all his heavenly Fathers will, and waited in lively hope and abiding peace for the hour of his departure. The inward conflict had ceased; his confidence in God was unshaken; faith, strong and unwavering stretched across the Jordan of death, and surveyed the heavenly country. With such sentiments, and in such a peaceful and happy frame of mind, the dying McKendree proclaimed in his last hours, ‘All is Well.’ In this emphatical sentence he comprehended what St. Paul expressed in view of his departure from the world and exaltation to an eternal inheritance: ‘For I am now ready to be offered, and the time of my departure is at hand. I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith. Henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, shall give me at that day.’ The last connected sentences which ever dropped from the lips of this aged and devoted servant of God, who for almost half a century had made Jesus Christ, the same yesterday, and today, and for ever, the end of his conversation, were ‘All is well for time, or for eternity. I live by faith in the Son of God. For me to live is Christ; to die is gain.

“Not a cloud doth arise to darken my skies, Or hide for a moment my Lord from my eyes.” ’

In this calm and triumphant state of mind he continued till he sweetly ’slept in Jesus,’ at 5 o’clock, P. M., March 5th, 1835, in the seventy-eight year of his age.”

Thus closed the life and labors of this man of God. And though his death had been anticipated by his friends for some time, yet it seemed to create a vacancy in the Church not easily to be filled. He had gone in and out among us as a general superintendent for about twenty-seven years, as the immediate successor of the venerated Asbury, with whom he had labored as a colleague for about eight years, and from whose example of devotion and diligence he had learned the art of government, as well as the necessity of an active and vigilant oversight of the entire Church.

A brief sketch of his character will close what we have to say respecting him. And,

Bishop McKendree gave unequivocal evidence of deep piety, and of a mind and heart thoroughly imbued with gospel truth. This evidence is found in his entire life, in his words and actions.

Having devoted the early days of his ministry chiefly to the new countries west of the Alleghenies, he had neither the time nor the means of acquiring much information from the study of books, though it was evident that he had stored his understanding with a variety of the most useful branches of knowledge for a minister of Jesus Christ. Had he been favored with the opportunity of a thorough education in his youth, and pursued the path of science in after years, he might have shone in the galaxy of literature and science; for he had an understanding sufficiently strong and acute to enable him to grapple with any subject within the range of the human intellect, and equal to the acquirement of any branch of human knowledge.

This was evident to all who were intimate with him and could duly appreciate his worth His mind, indeed, was capable of the nicest distinctions, of the most critical researches, and of the widest expansion. How often did he, by a well-timed and pointed remark, unravel the sophistry of the sciolist and confound the pedantic pretender to wisdom and science! As if by a sudden inspiration of thought, he could make a ray of light flash upon a subject, and then render that clear and intelligible which before was obscure and perplexed. It was once remarked by a preacher of no mean attainments, who was on intimate terms with the bishop, that he had often felt himself mortified and chagrined, when, endeavoring to let him into the secret of something of importance, he found that the bishop was already in possession of the facts in the case, and could therefore give more information than the other could impart.

His constant intercourse with all sorts of company in his various peregrinations through the country, enabled him to treasure up much useful knowledge from actual observation, and to suit himself, with an admirable adaptation, to the variety of classes and circumstances of the people with whom he came in contact. This also gave him a clear insight into the human character, and a comprehensive view of that character in all its variety of shades and distinctions. And though he did not “affect the gentleman” by an apish imitation of the fopperies of fashion, he was easy and polite in his manners, while he at all times maintained the dignity and gravity of the Christian minister. His perfect knowledge of the human character enabled him to wield with good effect the weapon of truth, and to apply it with admirable facility and exactness to the various cases which came up for consideration.

3. As a preacher of the gospel he was plain and pointed, and his sermons consisted chiefly in explaining and enforcing experimental and practical godliness. Though possessed of a mind extremely acute, which, had he been trained to metaphysical researches, would have been competent to the most abstruse subjects, yet he seldom entertained an audience with dry and monotonous disquisitions, but entered directly into the heart, laid open the secret springs of human action, and applied the truths of God’s word to the understanding and conscience with powerful effect.

There was, indeed, great variety in the character of his sermons. Though he seldom failed to “make out what he took in hand,” yet he sometimes sunk rather below mediocrity, while at other times he soared, and expanded, and astonished you with irradiations of light, and with the power and eloquence with which he delivered the tremendous truths of God. On these occasions, assisted, as he most evidently was, by the Holy Spirit, he would carry you away with him on the eagle wings of truth, and then, having gently seated you on its firm foundation, melt you into the tenderest emotions by the sweet and gentle accents of affectionate entreaty, which poured from his ups in the most pathetic streams of gospel simplicity, truth, and love.

It was a sermon of this character which he preached before the General Conference in 1808, a few days previous to his election to the episcopal office, and which, no doubt, contributed much to his elevation to the station, more especially by securing the votes of those who were not personally acquainted with him. To give as fair a representation of this sermon and its effects as I am able, I will simply relate what passed in my own mind on that occasion.

It was the first General Conference I had ever attended, and the name of William McKendree was unknown to me, and I believe also to many other junior members of the conference. He was appointed to preach in the Light Street church on sabbath morning. The house was crowded with people in every part, above and below, eager to hear the stranger and among others most of the members of the General Conference were present, besides a number of colored people, who occupied a second gallery in the front end or the church. Bishop McKendree entered the pulpit at the hour for commencing the services, clothed in very coarse and homely garments, which he had worn in the woods of the west; and after singing, he kneeled in prayer. As was often the case with him when he commenced his prayer, he seemed to falter in his speech, clipping some of his words at the end, and hanging upon a syllable as if it were difficult for him to pronounce the word. I looked at him not without some feelings of distrust, thinking to myself, “I wonder what awkward backwoodsman they have put into the pulpit this morning, to disgrace us with his mawkish manners and uncouth phraseology.” This feeling of distrust did not forsake me until some minutes after he had announced his text, which contained the following words: — “For the hurt of the daughter of my people am I hurt; I am black; astonishment hath taken hold on me. Is there no balm in Gilead; is there no physician there? Why, then, is not the health of the daughter of my people recovered?” Jer. viii, 21, 22.

His introduction appeared tame, his sentences broken and disjointed, and his elocution very defective. He at length introduced his main subject, which was to show the spiritual disease of the Jewish church, and of the human family generally; and then he entered upon his second proposition, which was to analyze the feelings which such a state of things awakened in the souls of God’s faithful ambassadors; but when he came to speak of the blessed effects, upon the heart, of the balm which God had provided for the “healing of the nations,” he seemed to enter fully into the element in which his soul delighted to move and have its being, and he soon carried the whole congregation away with him into the regions of experimental religion.

Remarking upon the objections which some would make to the expression of the feeling realized by a person fully restored to health by an application of the “sovereign balm for every wound,” he referred to the shouts of applause so often heard upon our national jubilee, in commemoration of our emancipation from political thraldom, and then said, “How much more cause has an immortal soul to rejoice and give glory to God for its spiritual deliverance from the bondage of sin!” This was spoken with such an emphasis, with a soul overflowing with the most hallowed and exalted feelings, that it was like the sudden bursting of a cloud surcharged with water, and the congregation was instantly overwhelmed with a shower of divine grace from the upper world. At first sudden shrieks, as of persons in distress, were heard in different parts of the house; then shouts of praise, and in every direction sobs and groans, and eyes overflowing with tears, while many were prostrated upon the floor, or lay helpless upon the seats. A very large, athletic-looking preacher, who was sitting by my side, suddenly fell upon his seat as if pierced by a bullet; and I felt my heart melting under sensations which I could not well resist.

After this sudden shower the clouds were disparted, and the Sun of righteousness shone out most serenely and delightfully, producing upon all present a consciousness of the divine approbation; and when the preacher descended from the pulpit, all were filled with admiration of his talents, and were ready to “magnify the grace of God in him,” as a chosen messenger of good tidings to the lost, saying in their hearts, “This is the man whom God delights to honor.” “This sermon,” Bishop Asbury was heard to exclaim, “will make him a bishop.”

This was a mighty effort, without any effort at all — for all seemed artless, simple, plain, and energetic, without any attempt at display or studied design to produce effect. An attempt, therefore, to imitate it would be a greater failure than has been my essay to describe it, and it would unquestionably very much lower the man’s character who should hazard the attempt, unless when under the influence of corresponding feelings and circumstances.

It has been already remarked, that sometimes he fell below himself, when his mind appeared to be barren and unfruitful. Though this was the case, yet he always exhibited the powers of a “master workman,” even when these powers seemed to be cramped apparently for want of some internal energy to put them in vigorous motion, and make them play with ease and effect. But what added much to the force of the truths which he uttered, was his commanding appearance, the gravity of his demeanor, the sprightliness of his manner, the fire which shot from an eye which bespoke kindness and intelligence, and the natural gracefulness of his action in the pulpit. His voice was clear and musical, and the words which dropped from his lips fell upon the ear with delight, producing a harmony between the outward voice and the inward sensation.

His rhetoric was faulty. Either from an impediment in his speech, or from a habit induced from early usage, as before hinted, he would sometimes hang upon an unaccented syllable, as in the use of the word continually, on the penultima he would rest thus, al — ly, as if unable to add the final syllable to the word. At other times he would clip a word in the middle or end, and leave it half enounced probably from some imperfection in the organs of speech. These however, are little things, like black specks in a diamond, which set off its beauties by contrast and were lost sight of whenever he so entered into his subject as he generally did, as to make you forget every thing but the truth he uttered, and the God he proclaimed.

There was also, at times, the appearance of affectation in his manner, and the modulation of his voice, which detracted, so far as it was apparent, from the reverence one wishes to feel for an ambassador of the Most High. Those, however, who may have observed this defect, — and it is certainly a great defect wherever it is discovered, — may have misjudged and taken that for art which arose mostly from the variety of emotions produced by the ebbings and flowings of a full heart, and the several aspects of the subjects occupying the speakers mind and tongue.

But whatever defects the eye of candid criticism might detect in Bishop McKendree as a public speaker, or as a sermonizer, judging from the rules of strict propriety, take him all in all as a preacher of righteousness, sent of God to instruct mankind in the pure and sublime doctrines of the gospel, he was a star of the first magnitude, and as such he diffused the hallowing and mellowing light of divine truth all around him wherever he went, and whenever he preached. In the west especially, whence he returned surrounded with a halo of glory which had been gathering around his character for several years, in the midst of the shakings and tremblings produced by the camp and other meetings, thousands could say that his preaching was not with the enticing words of man’s wisdom, “but in power, and in much assurance, and in the Holy Ghost.” Nor were his labors in the pulpit unappreciated in the Atlantic states, after he passed through them in the character of a general superintendent, and had an opportunity to show himself to his brethren “as a workman that needed not to be ashamed.” His zeal rose with the dignity of his subject, and his mind expanded as he ranged through the spacious and prolific field of theological truth, while he chained and charmed his hearers with the melody of his voice, and penetrated their hearts by the energy with which he spoke in the name of God, and the directness of his appeals to the understanding and conscience. Such was Bishop McKendree in the pulpit.

4. He was an ardent friend and active promoter of all the institutions of the Church. When the Missionary Society was formed, he entered immediately into its spirit and design, gave it his hearty support, and defended its objects both by word of mouth and by his pen, as well as by liberal contributions. And after our aboriginal missions were begun with so much success, he visited them personally, preached to the natives, and held interviews with the chiefs and counselors with a view to obviate difficulties, and promote their welfare in every way within his power.

5. Let us now view him as a ruler in the Church. As has been already seen, he constantly set an example to his brethren in the ministry of unreserved devotion to the cause in which he was engaged, and of indefatigable labor, so long as his strength would sustain him, in the pursuit of good. This enabled him to silence the clamors of such as might be tempted to believe that in the exercise of his executive powers as the president of a conference, he was guilty of laying burdens upon others which he was unwilling to bear himself; and the writer of this article had frequent opportunities, during the five years in which he held the office of presiding elder under Bishop McKendree’s administration, as well as at other times, to watch his proceedings, and though sometimes so placed as to have strong temptations to find just cause of censure, yet truth compels me to say, that I believe he was always actuated by the purest motives, and an enlightened desire to act impartially in all cases which came before him for decision. Whatever partialities he might feel for one in preference to another, arising out of personal friendship or otherwise, there is good reason to believe that he never willingly allowed these things to bias his judgment in the execution of his trust, or in the distribution of the preachers to their several stations and tasks. And who that understands any thing of the complicated machinery of Methodism but must know the extreme delicacy and perplexing difficulty of fixing so many men, some old and infirm, some young and inexperienced, others of mature age, judgment, knowledge, and influence, in their several stations, so as to meet, as nearly and justly as may be, the claims of all, and not disappoint the expectations of any, either among preachers or people! Such a man must be more than mortal. And hence the assiduity with which a conscientious bishop must needs apply himself to this difficult task, even to satisfy the dictates of his own judgment.

During some periods of his administration, Bishop McKendree had to encounter no small amount of prejudice, — I trust honestly engendered — in arising out of the presiding elder question, as he was strongly opposed to any innovation in this respect. On this account it was thought by some that he was actuated by a love of power, and that he sought to sustain himself in his position under the promptings of unjustifiable ambition. There was created for a time some uneasiness in my own breast, and dissatisfaction in the breasts of those who opposed him, which subjected his administration to a severe test, more especially in some of the northern conferences. Time, however, and more mature reflection, have softened whatever of asperities may have arisen out of these conflicting opinions, no doubt honestly entertained on both sides, and removed whatever erroneous views may have been imbibed regarding either the motives or conduct of Bishop McKendree. Indeed, even in the midst of the lengthened and sometimes wire-drawn discussions on the subject in controversy, most of those who stood opposed to the bishop’s theory, whenever they spoke or wrote of him, such a strong hold had he upon their affections and veneration, that they called him the beloved, or the venerated bishop, for indeed he was affectionately loved and truly venerated by all who knew him, and by those most who knew him best. And there is little reason now to question that the present order of things is best adapted to preserve inviolate the unity, usefulness, and energy of the system, however heavily it may press upon either the episcopacy or the itinerancy to sustain and keep it in harmonious action.

As a general superintendent, therefore, Bishop McKendree was wise and discreet, pure and energetic, infusing into the general system of the itinerancy life and activity, and setting such an example to all, both preachers and people, as to acquire and maintain their affection and confidence.

6. Viewed as a man of God, he had many excellences and but few defects. He was naturally, as all men of genius are, of a warm temperament, his passions were easily moved, and he sometimes manifested a severity in his disposition and expressions which detracted from the general amiableness and dignity of his character, and sometimes wounded the feelings of his friends. Yet with these strong feelings to grapple with, self-knowledge was so deep, and grace predominated so powerfully, that he generally possessed his soul in patience, and even in the midst of conflicting sentiments and arguments, he had that perfect command of himself, or control over his feelings, that he seldom betrayed any thing inconsistent with the Christian bishop, evincing a philosophic gravity which indicated a soul calm and serene, while the storm might be raging around him. And with the exception of these slight aberrations from perfect equanimity of temperament, no one could exceed him in the kind and frank manner in which he treated his friends, “rendering to all their due,” and making every one feel easy and at home in his presence.

In the social circle he was free and accessible, often enlivening conversation with instructive anecdotes illustrative of the topics under consideration. In these seasons of relaxation from the severe duties of his station, he appeared indeed “gentle and easy to be entreated,” manifesting a suitable deference to others, frequently drawing out their opinions by respectful inquiries, and modestly proposing his doubts, that they might be solved. And in all these movements he never forgot his obligations as a Christian bishop, often taking pains to distinguish between the respect paid to him because the Church had honored him with his high office, and what was due to him merely as a man, thus throwing upon others the honor which seemed to be given to himself. While religious conversations seasoned and sanctified these social interviews, they were generally concluded with a few words of advice suited to the occasion, and an invocation to God for his blessing upon all present.

7. When compared with Bishop Asbury, in the performance of his official duties in consecrating men to the work of the ministry, the contrast was obvious. Though equally fervent, and at times manifesting much more of the “unction of the Holy One,” yet he fell much below his venerable predecessor in the dignity and solemnity of his manner, and in the authoritative manner in which he administered the holy ordinance. Equally impressed, however, with the imposing obligations of the sacred office, and of its weighty responsibilities, he neglected no convenient opportunity to impress both the one and the other upon all who took upon themselves the vows of their God. And sometimes, under the impulse of a sudden inspiration, he would offer up to God a fervent intercession for blessings to rest upon them and their labors, and conclude with a short and pithy admonition or exhortation suited to the occasion.

8. In presiding in the conferences, impartiality guided his decisions, and he introduced a more orderly manner of doing business than had heretofore characterized their proceedings. Bishop Asbury used to say, as an apology for the desultory manner in which he sometimes allowed the affairs of a conference to be conducted, “I was with you in weakness, and at first I had to be president secretary, and almost every thing; but now the days of your childhood are passed; you have a president who has grown up in the midst of you, and who therefore, understands your wants; let him, then, lead you forth as men of mature age, under the dictation of those rules of order you may mutually devise for youth regulation.” In conformity with this patriarchal counsel, under the advisement of Bishop McKendree, a set of by-laws were introduced and adopted for the more orderly manner of conducting the business of an annual conference. This wise arrangement prevented the appearance of arbitrary power on the one hand, and the irregularities of independent action on the other.

In the exercise of his prerogatives as president of the conferences, he was sometimes called upon to check the forwardness of some, to correct the wanderings of others, as well as to encourage all to a just and diligent performance of their respective duties. In administering admonition or rebuke, he sometimes did it with the keenness of a razor, and yet seemingly with the mildness of the dove. I remember, on a certain occasion, a young preacher of more confidence than prudence, who had left some small business to become an itinerant, was boasting of the great sacrifices he had made for the cause, when Bishop McKendree checked him by asking, in his peculiarly soft and mild manner, “Brother, have you made greater sacrifices than St. Paul resolved to do when he said, If meat make my brother to offend, I will eat no more meat while the world standeth? Or than those which said, We have left all for thy sake?” I need not say, that a sense of shame sat on the countenance of this vain boaster.

But however mild and yielding he might appear in his general administration, there were times in which he thought the circumstances called for it when he could show all the firmness of a despot without any of his haughty and domineering feelings A debate once arose in the New York conference respecting electing a man to elders orders, who had been a traveling deacon only one year, because he had traveled for several years in connection with the Wesleyan conference in England, and he was finally elected. In the course of the debate, one of the speakers averse to the proposed election pleaded, that if elected, the presiding bishop would be compelled to assume the character of a pope, and refuse to ordain him. After the question was decided, the bishop arose and informed the conference, in mild but firm tones, that with all his respect for the decision of conference, he must decline to ordain the brother; “But,” said he, “in doing this I deny the imputation that I assume the character of the pope, for I act according to your laws, by which I am forbidden to consecrate a person to the office of an elder until he shall have traveled two years as a deacon, unless in case of missionaries, and this brother does not appear in the character of a missionary. Were I, therefore to ordain him according to your vote, I might be impeached at the next General Conference for an unconstitutional act, for which I could offer no reasonable excuse. Hence it is not an assumption of unauthorized power in imitation of the pope of Rome, in defiance of law and order, by which I refuse to comply with your request, but it is a deference I feel for constitutional law, made and sanctioned by yourselves, and from the infraction of which I am bound by my office, alike to protect both you and myself. Repeal your law, and make a different regulation, and I will bow to it with all readiness; but while the law exists I and bound to obey it, and to see that it is obeyed by others.”

This sensible appeal induced the conference to reconsider its vote, and the motion to elect was withdrawn. Thus the good sense of the bishop, united with such a commendable firmness, saved both him and the conference from perpetrating an unconstitutional act.

9. He was extremely sensitive, and acutely felt the slightest insult, while he would bear it without resentment. His discriminating mind enabled him to detect the slightest impropriety in the words or conduct of others, whether manifested toward himself or another person; and nothing seemed to give him more pain of mind or severe mortification than the exhibition of those weaknesses of human nature growing out of an ignorance of the common civilities and proprieties of life. To these, in his intercourse with his fellow-men, he was strictly attentive, considering it as much his duty to treat every person according to the claims which age, station, or office might give him, as it was to exact similar treatment from others. He thus gave a practical comment upon the maxims, “Tribute to whom tribute is due; custom to whom custom; fear to whom fear; honor to whom honor.” And in the discharge of the relative duties of life, he set an example worthy the imitation of all, and rebuked especially those uninstructed and inexperienced youth, whose raw notions of independence led them to make no discrimination between the old and the young, the officer, the citizen, the minister and others.

10. I need hardly add, that all his actions were the result of a heart deeply experienced in the things of God. He lived, indeed, “as seeing him who is invisible,” and he was most evidently moved forward in the discharge of his various duties, whether official or otherwise, under the dictation of that Spirit which “searcheth all things, even the deep things of God.” This directed and sanctified his labors in the best of all causes, and gave a beauty and finish to his work in general. Having been thus “created anew unto good works,” and persevering under the influence of those holy feelings which were enlivened and purified by the blood of the covenant, he halted not in the day of trial, nor ceased his work until his divine Master said, “It is enough: come up higher.”

John Emory, the junior bishop, had also taken his departure to another world during the year; and his death produced the greater sensation on account of the sudden and unexpected manner in which it was brought about.

He was born in the state of Maryland, in the year 1788. He was destined by his parents for the profession of the law, and received an education accordingly. But God had other work for him to do. At the age of seventeen he was made a partaker of justification by faith in Jesus Christ, joined the Methodist Episcopal Church, and soon gave evidence of those talents by which he was afterward so eminently characterized. In the twenty-second year of his age, in the year 1810, he entered the traveling ministry in the Philadelphia conference, of which he became, in due course of trial, a distinguished member, filling the stations assigned him with ability and usefulness Though but a junior member of the conference, in 1816 he was elected as a delegate of the General Conference of that year, and was an active and intelligent promoter of its measures and objects.

When it was resolved, at the General Conference of 1820, to open a more direct intercourse with the Wesleyan Methodist conference in England, by a personal interchange of delegates, Mr. Emory was chosen as our representative to that elder branch of the Methodist family, and he accordingly visited England in that capacity. By his Christian and gentlemanly deportment, and the ability with which he conducted the mission, he won the affection and esteem of all with whom he had intercourse, and brought to an amicable adjustment the perplexing difficulties which had arisen in Upper Canada between the two connections.

In 1824 he was elected assistant book agent, and in 1828 the principal. While in this station, though his physical strength would not allow him, during some portions of the time, to perform much active service, yet he was wise in counsel, judicious in his arrangements of plans for carrying on that extensive establishment with energy and system, and he applied himself with diligence and success to accomplish its benevolent objects. But as all these things will doubtless be presented to the public in his biography now in press, I need not enter into particulars.

At the end of his term of service in this institution in 1832, he was, as has been intimated, elected a bishop of the Methodist Episcopal Church. He entered upon the labors of this station with an enlightened zeal, attending to its peculiar and onerous duties with diligence, with a sound judgment, and a discriminating mind; and had he lived to the common age of man, he might have infused into the system a spirit and energy highly beneficial to the present and future generations; for he was a warm friend and the advocate of all our institutions, those peculiarly Methodistic, as well as those relating to education, missionary, and Sunday school operations, likewise to the publication and circulation of books and general intelligence. But ere he had time fully to enter upon his high and holy duties, and to develop the energies of his mind upon these momentous subjects, he was suddenly called, by one of those mysterious providences not easily solved by human intellects, to give an account of his stewardship.

Early on the morning of Wednesday, December 16, 1835, he left home in a one horse carriage, for the purpose of visiting Baltimore on business connected with his episcopal office. His horse ran away with him, and he was violently thrown from the carriage, and received such a severe wound in the head, that he expired about seven o’clock of the same day. His death was the more melancholy to his friends because his fall, and the wound he received, deprived him of his senses, so that he was unable to converse with those who stood around his dying bed, though he was heard to respond an amen to one of the many prayers which were offered up in his behalf in this hour of trial and affliction. No one doubted, however, of his preparedness to meet his fate, and to enter into the joy of his Lord. He died in the forty-eighth year of his age.

Though the Church was thus deprived of the labors of him to whom she had awarded one of the highest offices in her gift, ere he had an opportunity of fully unfolding his capabilities to serve her interests in the capacity of a ruler, yet he had lived long enough to convince all with whom he had held intercourse, of the strength of his mind, the acuteness of his intellect, and of his ability to defend the doctrines and institutions of the Church of his choice. Hence the mournful tones of sorrow which were heard almost universally when the news of his sudden and unexpected death was announced, and the deep and heartfelt grief which was uttered by his surviving friends.

Bishop Emory possessed an acute and discriminating mind, a sound and comprehensive judgment. Having received a thorough education in his youth, and devoting some time of his more mature and vigorous days to the study of the law, his understanding had become accustomed to close thought and accurate research, and he could therefore quickly and easily distinguish between truth and error, between right and wrong, while his heart forsook the one and cleaved to the other.

During his connection with the Book Concern he was frequently called upon to exert his intellectual powers in defense of what he considered to be truth and duty. After he became the principal, in 1828, he conducted the editorial department of the Methodist Magazine and Quarterly Review, in doing which his abilities as a writer were fully tested, and the masterly manner in which he defended the doctrines, institutions, and usages of the Church against powerful, and, in some instances, malignant assailants, proved his competency to the task assigned him, as well as his love of the truth, as developed in the articles and General economy of the denomination to which he belonged. Though his writings are not numerous, yet they have reared for their author a lasting reputation for the accuracy of his researches, for his depth of thought, the soundness of his views, and for the conclusive manner in which he could wield an argument.

These same eminent qualities were equally displayed in the pulpit. Owing to physical debility, brought on perhaps by too much exertion in the early days of his ministry, at some periods of his public life he was compelled to remit the regular duties of an itinerant preacher; but whenever he did appear before the public as an ambassador of Christ, he always evinced a mind thoroughly imbued with his subject, familiar with the truth, and well trained to the exercise of its powers in weighing evidence and balancing the claims of the various subjects which might be presented for consideration. And the acuteness of his intellectual powers were in no instances more strikingly illustrated than in his capacity to distinguish the nicest shades of truth, to detect the smallest intrusions of error, and so to analyze a subject as to view it in all its parts, and then so to combine it as to grasp it in his mind as one undivided whole.

It is the easiest thing in the world to generalize, to dogmatize, and to denounce in strong terms of disapprobation any supposed error in theory and conduct; but it requires a well-informed and a well-balanced mind to enter into detail, to discriminate between one thing and another, to trace parallels, to mark contrasts or resemblances, and when a multitude of subjects come up for consideration, to select the best, the most fit, and then to follow out a thought by a regular induction of arguments from particular facts. Who may not say that truth is preferable to error? — that the righteous shall be rewarded and the wicked punished? All this is easy. But it requires a mind accustomed to close thought to ascertain where the truth lies, to disentangle it from the knotty threads of error in which it often lies concealed, and to place it so plainly, and pointedly, and perspicuously before the reader or hearer that it may be seen and felt. Nor does it require less assiduity of mind and quickness of perception to trace out the windings of the human heart, to detect the characteristics of the sinner, to prove him guilty, and then to urge home upon him the tremendous consequences of his criminal conduct: yet Bishop Emory was fully equal to this task, and much more. He could, with all the ease imaginable, fix upon an antagonist the very point in which he erred, trace it in all its windings and shiftings, and then bring the whole weight of his powerful intellect to bear upon him with a force, collected by a regular course of argument, which he could not well resist.

But though thus furnished with material for a sound judgment, he was very far from possessing an overwhelming confidence in himself. He was in the habit of collecting information from every source within his reach, of consulting with his friends on all important occasions, and then following the best light afforded him. He did not, therefore, imitate those weak but self-confident persons who seem conscious that neither their productions nor opinions can bear the light of investigation, and therefore thrust that before thousands which they seem unwilling to submit to the inspection of a select few. Not so Bishop Emory. He generally strove either to strengthen his own opinions by the concurrence of others, or to have his errors corrected before they should be exposed to the multitude for indiscriminate condemnation. And such was his good sense, that he was always ready to hearken to all that could be said against as well as in favor of any of his positions, and it was by no means difficult to convince a man of his discernment of an error, should he have incidentally embraced one.

His education, refined as it was by the fire of Christianity, taught him how to estimate the relative claims of his fellow-men, and to yield to each his due, whatever might be his station or character. Though he was extremely sensitive, and could quickly perceive the slightest aberrations from the rules of strict propriety, he knew equally well how to make due allowance for human frailties, and to apologize for these faults in others which seemed the unavoidable result of either ignorance or inattention. Nor could he retain a spirit of resentment toward any man after discovering the slightest emotion of repentance; and he was as ready to make atonement for an offense as he was to accept it.

For many years he was the intimate friend, and for some time the traveling companion of Bishop McKendree, and I believe one of his most confidential advisers. It so happened, however, that in the midst of the controversy respecting the appointment and powers of the presiding elders, I think in the year 1822, brother Emory felt it his duty to call in question some of the positions of the bishop, which he had submitted to the annual conferences, and he did it in such a way as to wound the delicate feelings of friendship, and for some time thereafter an estrangement took the place of their former familiar intercourse. This, however, though painful to both, did not destroy mutual confidence and respect, a proof that a long intimacy had not detected in either any want of Christian integrity; and it is mentioned here merely for the purpose of illustrating that trait of character now under consideration; for the course of events restored mutual affection and confidence long before death introduced the spirits, first of the senior, and then, in about nine months, of the junior bishop, to each other in that world of glory where all these imperfections are remembered only to heighten the efficacy of that atoning blood which washes and fits the redeemed to “sing the song of Moses and the Lamb for ever and ever.”

The commanding talents of Bishop Emory, and his comprehensive judgment, gave him an influential position, more especially after his election to the episcopal office, which, had he lived in the faithful discharge of its duties, would have been extensively felt, and highly appreciated. But that God who “sees the end from the beginning,” saw fit to call him home ere he had time to immature his plans for future usefulness, and he no doubt “rests from his labors,” enjoying the rewards of his “work of faith and labor of love,” in the everlasting kingdom of God.

Numbers in the Church: Whites This Year: 566,957; Last Year: 553,134; Increase: 13,823 — Colored This Year: 83,135; Last Year: 83,156; Decrease: — Indians This Year: 2,436; Last Year: 2,494; Decrease: 58 — Total This Year: 652,528; Last Year: 638,784 — Increase: 13,744 — Preachers This Year: 2,758; Last Year: 2,625; Increase: 133.