AFFAIRS at Fort Coffee had now assumed a settled form, and were progressing regularly and quietly, but with little variety of incident. A daily and weekly routine of labor, of study, of stated worship, of recreation, and of rest was pursued. Our institution prospered, our farm yielded well, and was gradually being enlarged; the authorities and people of the Nation seemed pleased with our progress; we had enough to supply bodily wants, and were at peace with the world.

     By careful economy we had now been enabled to place our finances in a condition which we thought would justify a commencement of operations in view of our female department. This, as before stated, though a branch of the same institution, and under the same superintendency, was to be located at New Hope, about five miles distant. The separation of the two departments was the act of the Council, and greatly increased our labor and expenditure. It was determined, however, so to connect the interests and labors of the two as to render them mutually subservient to each other's support and advancement. I accordingly received proposals, and eventually concluded a contract for the erection of two buildings for the Female Department at New Hope, each one hundred feet in length, and adapted to the peculiar character and wants of the department. As it turned out, before the fulfillment of this contract my connection with the institution had terminated; but the buildings were erected as contemplated, and are occupied, I believe, to this day--186O.

     A subject of deep interest, and which was in its determina-

tion materially to affect our future course, now pressed with great weight upon our minds. The situation in which the affairs of the Church had been left by the action of the General Conference of 1844; the subsequent movement of the Southern delegates in calling a Convention from all the Conferences in slave-holding territory, to meet at Louisville in May, 1845, and the very uncertain issue of the deliberations of that body; all contributed to place us in an unenviable state of doubt and embarrassment.

     Upon this subject brother Benson and myself fully concurred in sentiment. We were in slave territory, surrounded by strong pro-slavery influences, both in Church and State. We were there, not by our own act, but in obedience to the economy of the Church. We were willing to live and labor on slave ground, and accommodate ourselves to circumstances; but it was our fixed determination, in the event of separation, never to be identified with a pro-slavery Church. We were remote from all who sympathized with us; had none with whom to advise; and heard and knew nothing of the movements taking place, except as we learned them from the public journals, and that often imperfectly. A heavy charge was in our hands, and one not to be lightly or suddenly abandoned. The storm of persecution against preachers from the North had already begun to rage in the State below us, and the spirit of mob violence to exhibit itself; and some of the preachers, lately transferred from Northern Conferences, had deemed it prudent already to retire. How long to remain in our present position, or when and in what way to indicate our future course, were points not easily settled. The question was one of deep thought, frequent conversation between ourselves, and, I trust, of earnest supplication for the Divine guidance; but in these consultations no one participated. We mutually agreed in the opinion that, for the present, we should remain where we were, take care of the charge committed to our hands, and await the result to determine our course.

     It has been seen that the Indian Mission Conference had thought proper to elect me as one of their delegates to that Convention; that this had been done without seeking to impose any trammels either by pledges or instructions; and that I had submitted to be so elected. The whole matter at our Conference had passed off with but few words publicly, or, so far as I know, privately. It had then been my purpose to take my seat in the Convention, and act with them so far as I could; but should they determine to secede, or to perform any act to which I could not in conscience submit, then formally to withdraw from the body. This purpose I entertained for a time, but as the time approached, the real design and final issue became more and more apparent. I thought I saw that I should stand alone, be placed in a scene of irritation and conflict, painful to myself and productive of no good. I accordingly resolved not to take a seat, and to give public notice to that effect. The following note, announcing my intention, was forwarded to two of the Church papers, one in the northern section of our work, and the other in the southern

     "My name having, in connection with the proceedings of the Indian Mission Conference, appeared in your paper as one of the delegates elect from said Conference to the Convention of Southern ministers of the Methodist Episcopal Church to be held in Louisville, Kentucky, in May next, I think it proper, through the same medium, to say to all concerned, that I shall not appear for the purpose of claiming a seat in said Convention, or in any wise participating in its proceedings. I have given due notice of this my intention to Rev. D. B. Cumming, the reserve delegate. The determination herein expressed is the result of my own personal convictions of duty and propriety, apart from the advice, promptings, or influence of any man or body of men.

     "FORT COFFEE, CHOCTAW NATION, FEB. 20, 1845."

     The foregoing note appeared in the Northern paper to which it was sent, but was suppressed by the editor of the Southern; referring to it, however, in an editorial notice which conveyed a misrepresentation of facts.

     But although I had thus declined a seat, it was still my purpose to be present and personally witness the action of the Convention, understand all its movements, and shape my own course accordingly. But here a formidable difficulty intervened. A wife and six children would be left behind. What storm might arise on hearing of my intended course in the now probable event of separation, and what indignities or violence they might be exposed to in my absence, was unknown. The State of Arkansas lay between them and the Mississippi, and the scenes already transpired at its capital gave warning of what might be expected. I accordingly resolved to take my entire family with me the seat of the Convention being among kindred and near the scene of former labors--to abide the result of the action, and, at its close, be governed by convictions of duty as to a return to my field of labor or a final severance of my connection with the South.

     For this event I had been carefully preparing from the commencement of our Conference and fiscal year. The cloud had been seen rising, and I was aiming to be in a condition to meet the storm. All the business of the institution had gone on as though no change were to take place; and yet affairs were kept in a condition to meet any emergency.

     Duplicate receipts and vouchers had been taken for all moneys paid out; a careful copy of the books and accounts of the institution was prepared, and matters thus kept in readiness to have with me the means of final settlement at any time and place; and, at the same time, to leave behind me a complete exhibit of the affairs of the concern.

      Other minds there were, and those of prominent Southern ministers, that were exercised similarly to my own, but with different results. The complete pall of Southern influence had not yet been thrown over them; and a little of Hazael's
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indignation burned in their bosoms. An instance may be given. I visited a quarterly meeting below the State line. The presiding elder was present, a pious man, a man of peace, a brother beloved. He had been in the General Conference of 1844, and was a delegate elect from Arkansas Conference to the Louisville Convention. He seemed oppressed in mind, and freely unburdened himself to me; told me his fears of the action of the Convention and of its results; said that on the morning on which he had left his home, his own aged and pious father had come to his house and entreated him to have nothing to do with the Louisville Convention." He appeared to be in great perplexity as to the course he should pursue, and sought my advice. I urged him to go and take part in the proceedings; but at the same time informed him of my own purpose to act differently. This excited his surprise. I explained. "You,'' said I, "are a Southern man, and expect to remain such; to be connected with and subject to the new organization, if formed. You should take part, and use your influence to shape the course of the Convention. The counsels of moderate men like yourself will be needed. The reverse is true of myself. I am a Northern man, and intend, in the event of separation, to abandon the South and claim my former home and Church relations. I choose to have nothing to do with it.'' He went, took his seat, acted with them throughout, and has been led along by degrees till he has become, as I learn, a zealous advocate of the peculiar institution, and a stanch defender of the several steps of pro-slavery progress in the new organization.

      Another incident to the same point I anticipate, occurring in the city of Louisville at an early stage of the proceedings of the Convention. Walking a street of the city in company with a friend, a delegate from one of the Conferences, the conversation turned upon the pseudo-philanthropic pretenses of the advocates of slavery, and the various pretexts of mercy and humanity upon which they seek to justify the system. My friend suddenly cut the matter

short by saying, with emphasis, "They want their work." That brother is now, if I mistake not, snugly seated upon his farm, surrounded by slaves owned and driven by himself. Who can look back and remember what the sentiment and feeling of the great body of Methodist preachers in the South was, a score of years ago, upon this subject, and not

at this exhibition of human frailty and inconstancy?

     All was deliberately arranged for our departure. The superintendency of the concern was, for the time being, placed in the hands of the presiding elder of the district, an experienced Indian missionary, and one deeply in the interests of the South. Funds, books, papers, property, and all were placed under his control, and a letter of authority, given over my own signature, to transact all necessary business during my absence. He was to reside at Fort Coffee. Meanwhile brother Benson, aided by Mr. Brigham, remained in charge of the school; brother B. having accepted his appointment at the preceding Conference, on condition that he should be permitted to leave at any time during the year, should the state of his health require it. I was authorized by brother B., in the event of my finding it necessary to ask a transfer to the northern section of the work, to make the same request for him also.

     It was my fortune to leave all the interests of the institution in a healthful condition. Our school was prosperous, and had the growing confidence of the Nation. The students were subordinate, learned well, and some gave evidence of piety. The buildings of the female department were in process of erection, and funds were on hand and accruing to meet all payments. The fiscal concerns of the institution were in a good state. I have before me an estimate of the effects of the mission, dated September 20, 1844. At that time the property of the institution was estimated at five thousand, nine hundred and fifty-five dollars and three cents; cash on hand, three thousand and

forty-six dollars and thirteen cents; total, nine thousand and one dollars and sixteen cents. I have no similar estimate of later date; but, at the same ratio of increase, the total assets of the institution, at my leaving, must have been about twelve thousand dollars. This had all been a net saving from our income after defraying all expenses of the establishment.

     An extract from a letter of instructions left to my immediate successor, who was temporarily absent when I left, will give some further exhibit of the condition of the institution, and of our general method of conducting our business: "I have settled all accounts, and paid all salaries up to this date--March 1st. The institution does not, to my knowledge, owe a dollar. I have sent to New Orleans, through Mr. H., for a supply of groceries; the money is advanced. All the material for Summer clothing [for the Indian boys] is on hand, excepting, perhaps, some light articles. You will find but one running account upon the book, that of the building contractors, which will, of necessity, remain open while the buildings are in progress. I think it best to make as few as possible .  .  .  .  I leave, as I suppose, enough money on hand to make the first payment on the New Hope buildings, and to defray all expenses up to the time the next semi-annual appropriation will be received."

     A further extract from the same letter will indicate something of the state of mind realized at this juncture: "I am leaving home with rather an unusual class of feelings. The length of the journey; the difficult and tedious manner in which much of it is to be performed; the danger to a family in case of a steamboat accident, now so frequent; all have their effect. But these are small matters compared with the present gloomy condition of the Church. It is impossible to predict the issue. Should a merciful Providence even spare our lives, still you and I may meet no more on earth. You will not, I presume, think this remark strange, after what has heretofore been said between

us.  .  .  .  I wish to leave the way open to my return. I have not, to my knowledge, done any thing that will hedge up my way, should duty require it; nor do I intend to. But should I no more return, I hope that you may get a better man in my place, and that the blessing of God may rest upon the work. I shall endeavor to act in the line of duty, so far as I have light. I commit all to the Lord, and implore his direction. I have, however, in view of present circumstances and probable results, declined serving as a delegate, and notified brother Cumming of the fact. It is still my purpose, if Providence permit, to attend the sittings of the Convention, and see what course matters take."

     The Arkansas River, at this time, was at a very low stage. After waiting some time for a rise, and no indications appearing, it was determined to relinquish our purpose of going by water, and travel by land to Little Rock, or, if need required, to Rock Roe, on White River, from which place down to the Mississippi; at Montgomery's Point, there was steamboat navigation at all seasons. The road was long and dreary, but necessity seemed to be upon us. A large road-wagon and a strong team were engaged for the transportation of the family and light baggage; for at this time we owned but few pounds of personal goods. A pony and rifle were purchased for my own use, and all made ready for a start.

     THE morning of Monday, March 3, 1845, witnessed our departure from Fort Coffee, near two years after I first placed my foot upon its commanding hights (sic), then desolate and dreary; its apartments tenantless and gloomy; every thing in a state of dilapidation, the result of four years' abandonment since evacuated by a military force; now smiling in beauty, dedicated to the Prince of Peace, peopled with cheerful and pious inhabitants, and sending forth the streams of healthful moral and intellectual culture into the benighted region around.

     The great wagon was driven into the area; baggage and camp equipage loaded in; leave taken; wife and children placed on board; the pony mounted, rifle in hand; and we took up the line of march. Soon the dense forests intercepted our vision, and we took a last look, as it proved to be, upon the noble site; a spot endeared still in recollection by toils and struggles, hopes and fears, joys and griefs, shared by some now entered into rest, and by others still on the way.

     A drive of a few hours brought us to Poteau River. This we found rising, so that we forded it with difficulty; an indication of rains toward its source. Hindered thus, we only reached Massard Prairie, a few miles back from Fort Smith, and put up for the night. During the night and succeeding day, there was a heavy fall of rain; such as to prevent land traveling and to give hopes of a passage by water; dismissed teamster, and camped for a season in a vacant house; rode to Fort Smith, and found the river rising. On the succeeding day I removed family and equi-

page to Fort Smith, and procured a house in which we again camped, awaiting the arrival of a boat. On the 7th my family went on board the steamer Archer, Captain Woodward, then lying at Fort Smith Landing, and were made comfortable. Here we remained four days, during which time the heavy rains continued, bringing the river up to a fine boating stage.

     On the morning of the 11th our steamer put out, bound for New Orleans; our passage being taken for the mouth of Arkansas, where we contemplated taking an upward-bound Mississippi boat. On the 13th we reached Little Rock, and spent a few hours, where we were courteously waited upon by several ministerial brethren, and a number of the ladies of the place, who accompanied us to the next landing, manifesting the same kind feelings that had been exhibited during the long detention of my family at that place in 1848; though, meanwhile, their amiable young pastor had, under pressure of mob violence, been compelled to vacate his place and seek a safer and more genial home. Had they known all, we should most certainly have forfeited their kind attentions, if, indeed, we had not actually encountered hostile demonstrations. But, recognizing no right on their part to dictate our course, or even to be put in possession of our individual purposes, and knowing no good end to be subserved by being over-communicative; and, withal, deeming "discretion to be the better part of valor," we forebore to spoil the pleasant interview, gratefully receiving their kindness, and suffering the themes to them so exciting to pass, for the time, unnoticed.

     Our boat was one of medium size, plain, well built, well furnished, neat, and comfortable. Our captain we soon found to be all that we could desire; a fine contrast with a former Mississippi commander heretofore noticed. For something rare in a waterman, he was of Quaker origin and rearing, and demonstrated the practicability of carrying their system of " still" and gentle control into effect even upon the water. Mild and courteous in his address, calm

and composed in all his movements, never speaking in a harsh tone, nor even loud, unless really necessary, he maintained an influence over his men that I have never seen equaled by any other commander. No loud or harsh talking was allowed among the crew; all was done with an order and quietness that would be deemed impracticable.

     The passage down the Arkansas was slow, although the stage was fine for boating. Much of each day was spent in taking in freight, principally bales of cotton from the plantations on the banks, and at night we "tied up," it being deemed unsafe to run at night in the downward passage upon this river. We had some view of the desolation caused by the last Spring's overflow, the river having in many places changed its channel, making sad havoc of plantations on its banks.

     The leisure afforded by our frequent detention at the cotton plantations presented excellent opportunity of conversing with the settlers, and looking into the condition and habits of the planters and their large households, an examination that did not tend much to prepossess me in favor of the planter's life, much as it is admired and coveted by many. One of the "shippers" I must sketch. He took passage with us and went down to New Orleans with his crop of cotton, to dispose of it in person.

     He was grave and venerable in appearance and fond of conversation; I soon made his acquaintance, and our whole intercourse was agreeable. I found him to be an Englishman by birth, about fourscore years of age, a Methodist, and formerly a hearer of John Wesley. He had traveled much, had lived in different parts of the United States, and among other places had once lived and owned a mill at the Falls of Ohio, on the Indiana side, near where Jeffersonville now stands. I personally recollect the remains of an old mill which long ago were to be seen near the "head of the shoot," and which, I suppose, may have been the same. His name has escaped recollection.

      He had at last settled upon a plantation upon the bank

of Arkansas, possessed himself of a slave force and was engaged in raising cotton. He was conscious of failure through age and the nearness of death, and regarded his present trip to New Orleans as the last he should ever make. He was intelligent and well informed in matters pertaining to religious doctrine and history, and in all his wanderings he seemed to have maintained the spirit of piety, but was withal a stanch supporter of Southern rights and institutions. But truth, like "murder," at times " will out," so it was with this old patriarch. After a homily at one time upon slavery, in which he strongly defended it, he wound up with this frank acknowledgment, founded, it seemed, upon his own experience. " But, after all," said he, "if I would enjoy the life and power of religion, let me live in a free State," a sentiment that found a hearty " amen" in my own feelings, and which I carefully noted as an involuntary tribute to the inseparable companionship of the spirit of true religion and that of genuine liberty. So true is it that freedom, like "godliness, is profitable unto all things." Nearly a score of years has passed I know nothing of him since. Ere this probably he has entered that land where "the servant is free from his master."

     On Saturday, the 15th, we entered the Mississippi at Napoleon. Here we had intended to disembark and wait for an upward-bound boat, but our captain, with whom we were on pleasant terms, kindly tendered us a gratuitous passage to New Orleans. This we concluded to accept, as, in addition to the desirableness of the trip itself, we should be saved from a disagreeable stay at this haunt of wickedness and moral degradation, and at the same time secure better accommodations up by taking passage upon a boat while in port. Here we were overtaken by our friend Mr. Brigham, who had left Fort Coffee some time after we did, and had a speedy passage. He too determined to take New Orleans in the way, and his company down and then up again contributed not a little to our enjoyment of the trip, especially with the juniors of our party.

     We found the Mississippi at a high stage, and our full freight being taken in we glided down the current at a rapid rate. Those who have not seen a full-freighted Mississippi cotton-boat would scarcely conceive the immense bulk of the staple that is stored on board. Engine-room, guards, boiler-deck, hurricane deck, and every other available space is filled with cotton bales piled up to a great hight (sic), much to the annoyance of passengers by circumscribing their ambulatory limits. And then, when a fire breaks out in such a mass of combustible matter, what a scene! Those who have witnessed the sight, bale after bale thrown overboard in a flame, or falling one after another from the burning wreck as she floats along, and spreading out in the current till the river presents a scene of living blaze, describe it as resembling "a river on fire." And woe to the luckless passengers whom such a calamity befalls! One boat was burned while we were in the Mississippi. A constant guard is kept to prevent accidents of this kind. Many times during our downward trip our freight took fire. When on the deck, or any accessible place, it was easily found and extinguished, but when, as repeatedly occurred, fire was discovered to have taken in the vast pile of bales stowed away in the engine-room or upon the lower deck, much time and effort were required to trace it out; meanwhile no little trepidation was realized by all who knew it. The nasal acuteness of the ladies in the cabin generally led to the first discoveries of danger, and was probably the means of saving the boat and much human life.

     The high stage of water elevating us above the levees that line the banks of the " Father of Waters," gave a fine prospect of the adjacent country. Cotton farms, sugar plantations, negro quarters, tasty residences, and beautiful gardens presented themselves to the eye. As we passed south we entered rapidly into the domains of Spring. All was verdure. Live oaks, oranges, Spanish moss, and other indications of a southern clime appeared. The air was genial and balmy. We enjoyed the change. Still we found it in our

hearts to say, with Addison in one of the letters which he wrote from Italy,

     About midnight, on the 17th, we landed at the wharf at New Orleans, after a safe and pleasant passage of one week from Fort Smith, having made good time after entering the Mississippi. On the morning following it was my good fortune to meet with a number of esteemed friends from the "upper country," in whose society, with that of some city acquaintances, a few days passed agreeably. Among them I was happy to find my old friend Rev. C. W. Ruter, then in feeble health, and seeking temporary respite in a milder clime.

     The juniors of our company, under the care of Mr. Brigham, amused themselves with an excursion to Lake Pontehartrain. Less locomotive in my own feelings, my attention was drawn to the proceedings of the Louisiana State Convention, then in session in the city. I had heard much of Southern statesmanship, Southern eloquence, and Southern recklessness; I had heard and read much of the desperate state of morals in the Southern emporium, and I supposed that I should be able in a short space to learn more of New Orleans and of the South in the State-House than elsewhere. Spending some time there I found myself happily disappointed in the general appearance and bearing of the members of the Convention. I met a grave, dignified, and, I should judge, talented body of men. On the desk of the presiding officer lay a large Bible. The session was opened by a fervent and evangelical prayer from a Baptist clergyman. There was no display of revolvers and bowie-knives; there were no inflammatory speeches, no infidel sneers, no indecorous deportment, no indication of Catholic rule. All was appropriate and orderly. The result of their labors was, as I have since learned, one of the

best State Constitutions of the Confederacy, bating its conformity to the institution of slavery.

     On the 18th I took my family on board the steamer "James Madison," and about six o'clock, P. M., on the 19th, we were under way on our upward trip, bound for Louisville. The Madison was a noble Mississippi steamer of the largest class, and crowded with passengers beyond her power of accommodation. The captain was a well-disposed man, and treated us with civility; some of the crew were rough and unpleasant; the passengers, as usual, were a mixed crowd; the vast cabin was literally filled up with gaming tables; and we were subjected to the annoyances common to families traveling upon crowded thoroughfares; but, upon the whole, our passage was quite as pleasant as is common under similar circumstances. The river was still high, and we made slow time against the powerful current. No incident of importance occurred on our upward trip; and on the morning of Friday, March 28th, we landed at Louisville, safe and well, thankful to a merciful Providence that had preserved us since, at this same point, we committed ourselves to him and embarked on our southward-bound passage.

     A month was yet to elapse before the assembling of the Convention. Meanwhile some labors were to be performed for my Fort Coffee charge. Cincinnati was visited. Building material and other needed supplies for the institution were purchased and shipped. Bishops Morris and Hamline were seen and consulted as to the course to be pursued in the existing crisis. An aged parent, then in the course of itinerancy residing at Terre Haute, was visited. Brethren of the Ohio, Indiana, and Kentucky Conferences were seen and conferred with, and many precious opportunities enjoyed of mingling with crowded congregations in the "house of the Lord," a privilege indeed after our long privation. At the approach of the time of the Convention I took lodging for myself and family in Jeffersonville, from which point I might attend the daily sessions.

     THE first day of May, 1845, was rendered memorable by the assembling of the Louisville Convention; a body whose acts have become matter of history, and will not cease to be remembered while Methodism shall have a name on the earth; a body whose movements constitute the first great act of ecclesiastical severance bearing upon our momentous question of national antagonism, still pending with fearful and ominous portents over the American people.

     The Convention and its doings are before the world, and have perhaps already occupied a sufficient space in public attention. It is not my design to comment upon the proceedings, except as incidentally affecting our work of frontier missions and my personal relations to the southern department of the Church.

     The ability of the men composing the body is admitted. Their complete subserviency to sectional influences and institutions, and their readiness to conform Church discipline and administration to a dominating sectional spirit, are facts before the world. Among them were men of piety, of prayer, and of moderation, who were drawn with extreme reluctance into the measures of the body; while the larger and more influential class were urged on by a spirit that ignored all results. Some were grave and thoughtful, but many, especially in outdoor associations and intercourse, treated the whole subject with a levity ill-becoming a body of men acting under high moral and religious sanctions, and performing an act which, though in their judgment needful, was nevertheless painful in a high degree. This spirit met no response in my own feelings. I felt that

a tear became me more, and was more consonant to my state of mind than a smile. Once I had occasion to rebuke its near approach. A Southern minister, still prominent among them, addressed me upon the steps of the Convention-room with a jest and a laugh in connection with the subject of Church division. "Sir," said I in substance, "you may make yourself merry over events that are taking place; I can not--I dare not."

     The esprit de corps was manifest from the beginning, and it was not hard to predict the finale. Still I deemed it prudent to await further developments before I should take any decisive step myself. All the principal measures of the Convention were shaped in a large committee, consisting of about one-third of the body, and embracing the master-spirits, thus securing the object of private sessions, and insuring the final adoption of the measures agreed upon; nominal session being held with open doors where much of the time was consumed in speeches intended for the public ear. So soon as any measure was known to have been agreed upon by the committee, it was regarded as virtually adopted by the body. All that was wanting was, a formal ratification.

     In about ten days from the opening of the session, it was understood that the committee had reached its final conclusions; that they would recommend the formation of a "distinct ecclesiastical organization," and no doubt was entertained as to the concurrence of the body. The point was now settled; the crisis had come; the Church was to be "rent in twain." This was the event in anticipation of which I was waiting. The time for me to act had now arrived.

     It had been my fixed purpose never to come, even nominally, under a new organization, should one be formed. Accordingly, foreseeing the final action, I applied to Bishop Morris,. then in the city, for a transfer to my former Conference, which 'he consented to give. Previous to this, however, some other formalities were to be adjusted by

which I should close up my personal connection with the Southern work. This became the object of immediate attention.

     On my arrival at Louisville, about a month previous to the Convention, rather a sharp passage d'armes had taken place, by written correspondence, between a leading minister of the South, with whom I was then officially connected, and myself, in which feelings were indicated that led me to anticipate a difficult adjustment of matters in the event of separation. This anticipation was strengthened by cold and distant treatment received in the first few days from delegates with whom I had been most associated, which led me to suspect concerted action. In a few days after the opening, the minister referred to arrived. He approached me with great cordiality, and was soon followed by others. From that time their deportment changed, and up to my departure I was treated with marked kindness and even affection.

     At this stage of affairs I was invited to an interview with Bishop Soule.. The hour passed agreeably. I was inquired of as to the condition of the mission work upon the Southern frontier and the arrangements recently made for its enlargement; was consulted as to appointments prospectively to be made, and one or two were then fixed; all the information and advice in my power, to enable them to carry on the work with success, were fully and candidly given.

     This done, an appeal was made to myself, and I was urged to remain in connection with the Southern department of the work; the Bishop assuring me that, notwithstanding the steps which I had already taken toward a change, still my ''position should be satisfactory" if I would consent to remain. I replied, in substance, that "the time had come for every man of full years to take his position; that after the act of separation changes would become difficult, embarrassed, and perhaps even viewed with suspicion." "O no," said the Bishop, assuming one of his well-known

postures of confidence and authority, "It must not be so--it shall not be so." In this he was candid; still cherishing his fond dream of personal control over both departments of the Church, even after final separation should have taken place; but from this dream facts soon aroused him. With this our interview closed kindly.

     The next step was a settlement of my pecuniary transactions. For this, as before seen, I had come prepared, duplicates of the books and papers necessary to a settlement being in my possession. Rev. J. C. Berryman, Superintendent of the Indian Mission Conference, was in the city, and was authorized to represent the society in the adjustment of my affairs. We came together in presence of several other brethren. My papers were examined and approved. The funds in my hands were paid over and vouchers taken; which with all similar documents are now before me--1860. This done, I received, at the hand of Bishop Morris, a regular transfer. So officially ended my connection with the Southern work.

     I can not fail to notice the kind and even affectionate exhibition of unchanged confidence and warm fraternal feeling exhibited, at our parting by those of my Southern brethren with whom I had been most intimately associated. At the close of our settlement referred to, the hand was taken and tears were shed. Incidental facts subsequently coming to my ears convinced me that this was no feigned feeling on the part of my former associates.

     Another parting scene is pleasingly remembered. While at the city post-office, giving directions for forwarding my letters, Rev. William Gunn, of Kentucky Conference, that manly, noble, sweet-spirited servant of God, one who entered so reluctantly into the measures of separation, came up, and heard what was passing. Stepping with me to the sidewalk, he said, "I can not do as you are doing. I have my people here, to whom I am attached, and whom I still desire to serve." As he was proceeding with his remarks, he was interrupted by Rev. ---- ----, a fiery delegate from

---- Conference, who approached, and commenced relating some tale of Northern aggression and outrage. I turned away, and was about to leave, but the warm tide of fraternal feeling was not thus to be checked. Shaking off the intrusion as soon as possible, he followed me, and repeated, "I can not do as you are doing; but to you I can say, 'The Lord be between me and thee, and between my seed and thy seed forever.'" it was our last earthly interview. He has entered into rest. The other delegate referred to has also passed away to the bar of God. I alone am left. O, God! when actions and motives are scrutinized at thy bar, may I not be found wanting!

     It is due further to say, that, almost without exception, the entire intercourse with my old associates of the South was, at the time of parting, and has continued up to this day, mutually kind, respectful, and confidential. The period embraced since the sitting of the last General Conference had been one of great mental conflict. I have never, however, on looking back, seen any cause to regret the course pursued.

     Not long after, Rev. H. C. Benson and lady arrived, also, having surrendered the entire concern into the hands of the South. A new dynasty was installed, connected, of course, with many changes in the subordinate departments, in a few months, as I afterward learned, every employé of mine, even down to the cook and laundress, had left the institution. With the details of its subsequent history I am not acquainted. Occasional reports that have met my eye indicate continued prosperity.

     A new scene now opened. During the brief absence of two years very great changes had taken place in the scene of my former labors. The Indiana Conference had been divided. I was consulted as to my preference, and chose the North, having last labored in that section of the State. My transfer was accordingly made out to the North Indiana Conference; and connected with the transfer was an appointment to Peru district, to supply the place left vacant,
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by the recent death of my old friend, Rev. Burroughs Westlake. Thus, as a clerical friend remarked, "the iron gate opened of its own accord;" the providence of God having prepared work upon which I should immediately enter.

     No time was lost. On the 21st I arrived at Indianapolis; adjusted matters for a temporary residence of my family there; purchased a horse and outfit; and repaired to my field of labor. On the 7th of June I attended the first quarterly meeting on the district in Koscinsko county, near Leesburg.

     From that time till the Annual Conference, in September, I remained upon this district. It was a memorable season of distress and suffering to the people of the Upper Wabash country. Two successive failures of the crop had occurred; and that year the country was for months prostrate with epidemic disease. My predecessor had been cut off. I myself had a violent attack of illness which laid me aside for about three mouths, and materially affected my constitution, till then one of the most firm and enduring. At the ensuing Conference I was changed to another district, and a successor appointed, in the person of the young, ardent, and vigorous Philip May; but, ere another year had closed, he, too, had fallen under the pressure of his labors and exposures, and was taken home to his reward.

     During this season I was consulted by the authorities of the Church on the subject of taking an appointment to Oregon--previous to the appointment of Rev. Geo. Gary--with the understanding that labors in California should also be embraced. This was before the gold discoveries and the commencement of emigration from the United States. The impaired condition of my own health, together with the fatigues so recently undergone by my family in their long removals, led me to think that duty did not require my acceptance; the only appointment in the regular work of a Methodist preacher, near or distant, that I have ever declined.

     A period followed of about nine years' labor within the bounds of North Indiana Conference, which, as it has no connection with the work of frontier missions, and consequently lies without the scope of my present plan, I pass by entirely; and here, for that period, I take leave of the reader.

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