THE Winter of 1842-3 was a glorious season for the Church in the West. The flame of revival was kindled far and near. Zion had put on her "beautiful garments;" the ministers of Christ had received a fresh anointing; the hosts of the Lord were girded anew for the conflict; sinners were pressing to the cross by scores and hundreds; and on every hand the shout of victory was heard from the ranks of Israel. A powerful impression was made upon the public mind; opposition, for the time, gave way or was powerless; and even the impenitent acknowledged the hand of the Lord, and seemed to participate in the general desire for the spread of the work. The secular prints had taken up the theme, and the weekly mails were freighted with reported triumphs of the Cross. It was one of the "set times" with which God is pleased to "favor Zion;" one of those seasons in which the arm of the Lord is so powerfully revealed as to disarm the adversary, close the lips of infidelity, and constrain all to acknowledge that "the excellency of the power is of God"--scenes, the increase and perpetuation of which will introduce and constitute millennial glory.

      This blessed influence rested upon the Churches for a period of years preceding and succeeding the time referred to, and additions to the ranks of our Zion were numbered by hundreds of thousands. This was its acme.

      The Spring of that year found the writer in the extreme north of Indiana Conference, the limits of which were then commensurate with the State. South Bend district, my field of labor, extended quite across the northern end of Indiana, from the Ohio line upon the east to that of Illinois upon the west, stretching along the Lake and State of Michigan on the north, and running south through the width of several counties. Scarcely half a score of years had passed since the first white settlements were made, but already the appearance of thrift and comfort indicated a community of maturer age. The Winter preceding will long be remembered as one of unusual length and severity. For months the face of the earth had been deeply covered with snow, save the " ditch," or beaten track, on which was heard the merry ring of sleigh-bells, with the cheerful voices of an active and energetic people on excursions of business or of pleasure, or, on Sabbath, upon their way to and from the house of God.

      Religion had early taken a deep hold upon this community, and, as usual, Methodism had led the van. Many of the early emigrants to this fine region had been nurtured in her lap, and were now treading all the steps of their fathers. Side by side with them, in their incipient struggles, had been found the itinerant preacher. Here an Armstrong and a Griffith had labored and fallen. In their steps had followed a Hargrave and a Wood, each surrounded by a band of devoted co-laborers. God had signally owned their labors in the steady and progressive improvement of the Church and the conversion of many souls, though as yet no general and widespread revival influence had visited this section. They were thus a "people prepared for the Lord," and, in the exercise of faith and persevering effort, awaiting his coming.

      No marvel, then, that here the fires of revival caught at once, and burned with intense ardor. The attack was led on by A. Wood, Games, Lemon, Monson, Posey, Blue, and others, some of whom have passed to their reward, and others are still upon Zion's walls. On every side the battle-cry was heard, and shouts of victory were borne on every breeze. From west to east the flame spread. Valparaiso, Door Prairie, Laporte, Michigan City, Terracoupee, South Bend, Mishawaka, Plymouth, Goshen, Lima, Angola, all shared the gracious influence. Churches were filled to overflowing, and, at times, even in midwinter, windows were thrown open, and throngs of sleighs grouped around the house, filled with eager listeners to the Word of Life. In the absence of houses of worship, court-houses were signally honored of God as places of the revelation of his power. The temples of justice resounded with the wail of the penitent and with the shout of the new-born soul.

      The "people were willing" in this "day of His power." The outpouring was general, and no section, perhaps, shared more largely and permanently in the happy results than that then embraced in this field of labor. It will be no matter of wonder, then, that, in the midst of such scenes and surrounded by such associates and co-laborers, the heart should cling fondly, and say to itself: "Here will I build my tabernacle;" "This people is my people, and their God my God where they die will I die, and there will I be buried." What itinerant heart has not realized these feelings?

      But "this is not our most." Itinerancy leaves us not long to indulge these dreams of continuance n the hallowed associations of life, till its stern mandate falls upon the ear, and the dearest earthly ties are severed. And so effectually and repeatedly are the affections wrenched off from their most cherished objects, that, at length, like the tendril often torn from its hold, it almost refuses to clasp again; or, to give the thought a more cheerful turn, they

clasp only to hold for a time, then to be severed for a season preparatory to an eternal reunion.

      In the midst of these scenes the summons came to another and far different field of labor, not even awaiting that annual crisis of itinerant life, the Conference season of release and re-appointment. A letter was received from Rev. E. R. Ames, then one of the Corresponding Secretaries of the Missionary Society, dated Washington, February 4, 1843, from which the following are extracts

      "DEAR BROTHER,--Will any thing induce you to consent to go to the Indian country in the South West? The Choctaw Indians, at their late General Council, appropriated six thousand dollars per annum, for the next twenty years, to the support of the Fort Coffee Academy. This institution they have placed under the care of our Missionary Society. The Society is to contribute one thousand dollars per annum toward its support. Now, what we want is a Superintendent--a man to take the general oversight of the concern, to employ teachers, mechanics, laborers, etc.; in short, to manage the whole matter. Now, if the Bishops appoint you, will you not consent to serve the Church in this department of her labor? If you will go as Superintendent, I think brother W., of Greencastle, will go as principal of the female department, and brother B. as principal teacher.

      "You perceive it will be a very large establishment, and an annual expenditure of seven thousand dollars. The site is a very beautiful and healthy one, on the Arkansas River, at Fort Coffee. It is twelve miles from Fort Smith, a military post and village of three or four hundred inhabitants, and twenty miles from Van Buren, one of the most flourishing towns in Arkansas. There are buildings already erected, formerly occupied by the garrison, which, with some repairs and slight additions, will furnish sufficient accommodations for the male department. The arrangement would be for you to go on early in the Spring,

and get things in readiness for opening the male department, say by the first of next October, when you would move your family on and take out teachers.

     "Do not fail to write, etc.

      Bishops Roberts, Soule, and Morris were expected to meet in Cincinnati in March, at which time it was contemplated that the place would be filled. I was consulted; for authoritatively as our Bishops are empowered to speak, and implicitly as our ministry are wont to obey for the Gospel's sake, I have yet to learn the first instance in which an arbitrary or unreasonable requirement has been made, by which any brother has been transferred to a distant field, irrespective of private and domestic considerations and wishes. No man ever takes a foreign, or even a remote, field, except as a volunteer; a policy at once wise and humane.

      And now a conflict ensued. Domestic life was dear. Middle years were already attained. Itinerancy with me had been bounded by the limits of a single State, whose "long removals" dwindled into insignificance compared with the thousands of miles now placed before me. Then, civilization, with its social and religious privileges, was to be left behind, and the future abode of self, wife, and little ones was to be among savages in their own wilds. These considerations, however, were personal, arid might be disposed of, could the path of duty be made clear. But another class of objections arose still more formidable. "I am," it was suggested, "now in the midst of a glorious revival. To some extent I am identified with this work. Whatever abilities God has given me may certainly be as profitably employed here, while another, differently circumstanced, may take charge of the proposed enterprise."

      Such were the plausible arguments that forced themselves upon my mind, seconded, at the same time, by the spoken and written remonstrances of brethren whose piety and judgment I had learned to respect. For the time being they

prevailed, and a letter was written setting forth, at some length, the reasons for respectfully declining the appointment. Thus the point was settled, and, as I believed, upon considerations of duty, whatever unconscious influence may have been exerted by a love of domestic life and a desire to die in the midst of my brethren.

      Some time, however, elapsed before the period at which an answer was required. The letter was retained, and the whole subject came up for reconsideration. Reflection took another turn. "If," thought I, "the reasons that have influenced me be just and proper, still they do not belong to me, but should be weighed by the appointing power. It is for those to whom we have surrendered this province to judge of the comparative wants of different sections of the work, and of individual fitness and competency for each field. I may be a very inadequate judge in my own case, and may be assuming a responsibility that belongs of right to others." This train of reflections was not indulged long till it produced a complete reversal of former determinations. The written letter was canceled, and another prepared and forwarded containing a surrender at discretion. Previously my motto had been "any place in the Conference." Now I extended it to "the world."

      Meanwhile my district labors went on as usual, awaiting the developments of providence. A few weeks passed, and the matter was definitely settled by my receiving the following:

"CINCINNATI, MARCH 9, 1843.     

"To THE REV. WILLIAM H. GOODE:

      "This is to certify that you have been duly appointed to the superintendence of Fort Coffee Academy, in the Choctaw Nation, to which station you will repair with as little delay as the circumstances of the ease will admit. In organizing this institution you are expected to adhere strictly to the stipulations entered into between the civil authorities of the Nation and our Missionary Secretary,

Rev. E. R. Ames. Especially in the selection of teachers you will have strict regard to their literary, moral, and religious character. And it is greatly to be desired that all persons who may be employed in the different departments of the institution shall be such as to afford an example of morality and piety in every respect worthy of imitation. 

      The sensation produced by this announcement will scarcely be appreciated by many; an announcement which was to change, and which, in its consequences, actually has changed, the whole subsequent course of life, subverted all pre-arranged plans, and converted its subject into a wanderer over earth; a wanderer in hope of eternal life.

      No sooner was the fact communicated, than, with my now sainted wife, on bended knees and with tearful eyes, ourselves, our little ones, our cause were commended in humble prayer to hint in whose guidance alone is safety.

     THE Episcopal summons reached me at South Bend, then the residence of my family; upon the 15th day of March, 1843. Existing relations were at once dissolved the old harness fell off, and new duties, responsibilities, and labors spread themselves out before me. No time was to be lost. I was expected to set out at once, leaving my family at some convenient point, visit the country, make all needful arrangements for entering upon the work, and, when all was ready, return and take out my family and other members of our mission establishment. Indianapolis, our last previous residence, was selected as the place of temporary stay for the family. Two days were spent in preparation, embracing the winding-up of personal affairs, sale of household goods, hire of teams, and all needful arrangements for the comfort of a family during a week's exposure at that rigorous and inclement season. On the morning of the 17th we set out in wagons, the earth still covered with snow, and the weather intensely cold. Sabbath, the 19th, was spent at a hotel in Logansport. I heard a sermon at the Presbyterian church in the morning, and preached at the Methodist Episcopal church in the evening. On the morning of the 20th we crossed the Wabash on ice a foot thick, and on the 22d reached Indianapolis in a violent snow-storm, and met a hearty welcome from kind friends.

      A visit to Greencastle followed, and an interview with the Corresponding Secretary, then resident there, and having supervision of missionary interests in the West. All

requisite preliminaries were adjusted for a vigorous prosecution of the enterprise.

      From north to south, through the State, the flame of revival was burning, and at almost every point the invitation was heard, "We have a meeting in progress can't you stay and help us?" To these I responded as I was able, and indeed beyond my strength. Indianapolis, as usual, was sharing largely. The two preceding years it had constituted my field of labor, the entire city and suburbs having, up to that time, been embraced in one charge. At the, close of my term the city was divided, and two stations constituted. The Western charge, under the care of Rev. L. W. Berry, retained the old church premises, now known as Wesley Chapel, while the Eastern charge temporarily worshiped (sic) in the court-house till Roberts Chapel was erected. Here I enjoyed a season of labor and religions communion, and rejoiced in the work of the Lord in both charges.

      Time, however, and urgent personal duties forbade delay in a work so delightful. The kindness of friends left me little to do in preparing for a family residence during my absence. On the 29th I was off by stage for Madison, en route for Cincinnati. Calling at Lawrenceburg to visit an aged parent, I had the happiness to spend a Saturday and Sabbath with my former presiding elder, Rev. C. W. Ruter, and Rev. A. Eddy, who had come up to assist him in the labors of a quarterly meeting. Lawrenceburg station, under the pastoral labors of Rev. S. T. Gillet, was then enjoying a season of refreshing. We preached, prayed, exhorted, and rejoiced with happy converts and quickened believers.

      I arrived at Cincinnati on the 3d of April. Here I had a violent attack of disease, brought on, in the judgment of my physician, by excessive labor and exposure. Serious apprehensions were entertained as to the result. A family adjoining my lodgings, seeing a carriage-load of ministers drive away from the door, concluded, "the man is dead." But God ordered otherwise. By skillful medical treatment

and kind attentions from the family of my friend, brother L. Swartz, and others, with God's blessing, I was in a short time so far restored as to enter again upon my work. Here some days were spent in obtaining the necessary supplies of provisions, hardware, paints, etc., for building and repairing, farming implements, mechanics' tools, camp and household equipage, and all the requisite outfit for a frontier residence. Here, too, I employed a young German and his wife to accompany me, and aid in the domestic labors of the Mission.

      On the 10th, I went down by boat to Louisville, and spent several days there in completing purchases and arranging papers preparatory to a departure. On Saturday, April 15th, we got all on board our steamer, and took leave of the "upper country."

      There were, at that time, few boats in the Arkansas trade from points upon the Ohio River; and those few generally inferior in character and accommodations. The "Gallant," for this was the chivalrous cognomen of our craft, was a vessel of some age, and had already seen more service than was consistent with safe reckonings upon her future performance. She was "condemned," or, in other words, unable, from age and condition, to obtain insurance, and so ran upon the personal risk of owners and shippers. This looked rather unfavorable for a long trip upon dangerous waters; but the initiated will understand, when I say that it probably turned to our advantage. All hope of making a fortune by sinking the boat and recovering insurance was taken away, and the great care and watchfulness with which she was managed contributed, in no small degree, to the comfort and safety of our passage.

      A Sabbath upon a steamboat is irksome, though upon long trips and by unfrequented routes it is often inevitable. The tedium is greatly relieved, and Sabbath observance among the passengers promoted, when an opportunity is afforded of preaching. My first Sabbath out afforded no such opportunity, and was spent in reading and reflection.

Our company on board was small and quiet, our officers were gentlemanly, and no incident worthy of note occurred upon out passage down the Ohio and Mississippi.

      Upon the 20th we reached Montgomery's Point, an old and well-known landing, at the mouth of the White River of Arkansas, one of the rude and lawless resorts of the flat-boatmen of early days; a place, which, had it a tongue, could tell many a tale that would make the ears tingle. Here I was surprised and gratified to take by the hand Rev. David Crawford, formerly a member of Indiana Conference, transferred, within a year or two, to the more destitute field in Arkansas. His circuit extended over a large section of adjacent country upon the Mississippi, a region most uninviting both in its physical and moral aspects. He seemed cheerful, and spoke encouragingly of his work.

      Here we entered the mouth of White River, and passed up some distance; then took a bayou, or "cut-off," communicating with the Arkansas, and, by this means, entered the latter river at some distance up. This is often done by downward-bound boats, instead of going down to Napoleon and entering the Arkansas at its own outlet. It serves to give some idea of the low, flat character of the country affording facilities for such intercommunication.

      The low bottoms on the banks of the Arkansas afford but little scenery such as is generally admired; and, hence, the country is seldom described by tourists, each seeking to sink the past in oblivion so soon as his own escape is made. But even this dreary region was not without interest to me. The wide expanse of channel through which the river, when low, meanders its course amid interminable sand-banks, planted thickly with snags, sawyers, and lodged trees, with roots anchored and tops downward, presenting their stubborn ramifications so closely set as would seem to defy the progress of an ascending steamer; the dense cane-brakes lining the banks with their somber shades; the long rows of young cotton-wood, which, following up the successive freaks of the stream, had, year after year, taken root in the

newly-deposited alluvium, and grew in ranks as straight and regular as if planted by the hand of man and all this tuned into melody by the hoarse music of wild geese and brants, which, with their long-limbed companions, the sandhill cranes, seemed to claim the exclusive proprietorship of these wild domains; even these had a melancholy interest, especially when responded to by the creakings and groanings of our "Gallant" old steamer, indicative of years of former toil as, night by night, I pensively paced her hurricane deck alone by moonlight, and thought of home and friends far away. There is a luxury in melancholy; and here was found enough to raise it to its most exquisite point.

      Here and there the dull monotony was broken by the appearance of a cotton plantation, whose proprietors held only a nominal residence of a few Winter months, the Summers being spent in some more genial clime; their annual return being only in season to convey to New Orleans, the great cotton emporium, their "crop" of bales of the world's great staple, raised and prepared by months of Summer toil of Afric's sons and daughters, under the lash of a taskmaster, and to enjoy a season of gayety and festivity over its proceeds; thus forever dooming this region to remain unimproved, unenlightened, uncared for, while the present order of things continues.

      A few exploded enterprises of former days have barely left traces enough to tell the tale of defeat. An early settlement was made by the French, about one hundred miles up, and a town commenced the same year, it is said, with the founding of Philadelphia. But, like many more modern schemes of the same character, its dreams of future greatness have vanished, and it is now known to boatmen simply as "The Post." Still further up was a Catholic colony and seminary, at a place known as St. Mary's. Here remain only a few houses, and a relic of the former population. This spot was rendered memorable to me and mine in after history, as will be seen.

      On Sabbath, the 23d, I had a pleasant season of worship with the passengers in the cabin, while I preached to them of the "judgment-seat of Christ." I thought I observed a marked change of deportment afterward.

      On the 24th we arrived at Little Rock, the capital of the State, about three hundred miles, by water, from the mouth. This is a pleasant, well-built town, of several thousand inhabitants, surrounded by a rough and unpromising country. It contains a good State-House, United States Armory, and other public buildings. Resident here is quite a number of genteel and interesting families, with a large amount of rough and vicious population. I found, also, a pleasant little society of our own Church, with a comfortable house of worship, and Rev. H. Kern, formerly of Pittsburg Conference, as their pastor.

      At Little Rock I was introduced to the late Gov. Yell; found him a slender, plain, pacific-looking man, dressed in common jeans, seated in his office, and calmly smoking a long-stemmed pipe, with little indication of that desperate and furious courage exhibited by him on the fatal fields of Mexico, where he met an untimely end. Here, also, I formed the acquaintance of Judge Pascal, of the Supreme Bench of the State, an intelligent, large-hearted Virginian, resident at Van Buren, with whom and his full-blood, but genteel, and well-educated Cherokee wife, a romantic pair, I was afterward hospitably entertained at their pleasant home. From Judge Pascal I received much information as to the history, habits, and condition of the several tribes of southern Indians, such as materially to aid me in preparing for my work.

      Above Little Rock the country becomes more elevated and broken, the spurs of the Ozark Mountains, in places, pointing in to the river, and terminating on its banks in craggy and abrupt precipices, forming a scenery of rugged sublimity in bold contrast with the lowlands further down.

      The banks of the Arkansas in this region afford a fine supply of steamboat fuel unknown on most of our West-

ern waters. "Pine-knots," as they are called, being the branches and knotty portions of the yellow pine-tree, perfectly dead and dry, and containing a large amount of resinous matter, are collected by the settlers and piled upon the banks. The boatmen buy it with eagerness. It makes an intense heat, sends forth volumes of black smoke, and urges a boat up to her utmost capacity of speed.

      Nothing of note occurred during the remaining three hundred miles of our trip to Fort Smith. The old boat performed well, and we reached the fort upon the morning of the 27th. This place is situated upon the State line, the fort itself and Government buildings being on the territorial or Choctaw side, and a thriving village below the line. A large Government expenditure has been made here; but all operations have ceased, and probably will never be resumed. The old barracks of temporary structure were still occupied by the troops. Here I made the acquaintance of brother Boyer, the stationed preacher for Fort Smith and Van Buren, another transfer from Pittsburg Conference; also of other kind brethren.

      The regular trip of the "Gallant" terminated here, and my freight was about to be put ashore. The captain proposed, for a stipulated sum, to go up to my place of destination, some thirty miles further, and discharge it there. This was extremely desirable. But, then, the intercourse act of the United States forbade a boat going up into the Indian territory without leave; examinations were first to be made for whisky and contraband goods; and, withal, I was without passports or letters of introduction of any kind. In the dilemma I sought an introduction to General Zachary Taylor, then in command there, explained to him my situation and objects, and asked his counsel. The General received me with his wonted urbanity, and advised me to get on the boat and go up without waiting for leave of any one, provided I was sure of being recognized and approved by the Superintendent of Indian Affairs on my arrival. This was all I wanted. The boat was chartered

for the remainder of the way. Several brethren from Fort Smith accompanied me up, and at five o'clock, P. M., of the same day we landed upon the beach at the foot of the bold promontory on which stands old Fort Coffee, destined to be the site of our future operations. By dark the freight was discharged. The boat's crew and accompanying friends bade us farewell, and soon she was on her downward course, leaving us to the peculiar reflections of the hour.

      We were now fairly beyond the bounds of civilization, surrounded by two powerful Indian tribes. I had some childhood reminiscences of Indian life in the early settlement of Ohio, but myself had scarcely ever shaken the hand of a red man, and was, to a great extent, unacquainted with their habits and customs. In addition to this, I had never "lain out" a single night. The scene was novel. Our company consisted of my German, his wife and child, a friend from Fort Smith, and myself. A fire was struck upon the beach, and our little band commenced the work by a prayer meeting. It was a solemn time. We invoked the blessing of God upon ourselves, our distant friends, our work, and especially upon the benighted sons of the forest, upon whose soil we had now kindled our fires. The premises, though but a few hundred yards distant, were not surveyed that evening; but, after taking refreshment, we laid ourselves down upon the beach and slept securely under the care of Him "whose eyelids never sleep."

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