sponse was, "To you, Bishop, under the bless- | be the better qualified for the judicious selection ing of God, that man owes his life, as he must of a wife. He had his troubles in this matter. have died before morning." The Bishop, speaking right from his ever-working soul, said, "As long as you can drag yourself about always be found doing something." The Doctor was now an earnest Methodist, but once was very differUpon the conversion of his worthy wife, which was before his own, he deemed her in a kind of derangement, and put a large blister upon her back to draw out the Methodism. Years after, in relating it to Bishop Asbury, he might well say, "What a fool I was to do so!" Her patience and meekness soon won him to the

ent.

same cause.

Traveling through East Tennessee, he was impressed with the fact that so many were migrating westward. His first thought was for their spiritual good. So he writes: "We must take care to send preachers after these people." These words expressed the very life of the religious movement which he was leading. Then from the trials of these people he derived a lesson of personal patience. Thus: "A man who is well mounted will scorn to complain of the roads when he sees men, women, and children, almost naked, paddling barefoot and barelegged along, or laboring up the rocky ascent, while those who are best off have only one horse for two or three children to ride at once."

Bishop Asbury was never married; a fact gretted by some of his friends. But he gave his reasons for it, and whoever fairly weighs them will scarcely find it in his heart to blame him:

Many of his young preachers were early captured. It is related that there was a certain circuit in Virginia where they almost invariably married. So the Bishop, supposing the women to be blamable in the matter, and resolving to balk their business, sent two decrepit old men into the circuit, persuaded that no one would woo them, however easily they might be won. But the balking was in his own plan, for both married during the year.

His soul, in all its studies, plannings, and cares, in the supervision of so many preachers and churches, was ever the home of the most beautiful and tender filial love. Thus he writes to his parents:

"I last evening made arrangements for a remittance to you. My salary is $64. I have sold my watch and library, and would sell my shirts before you should want. The contents of a small pair of saddle-bags will do for me. Your son Francis is a man of honor and conscience. As my father and my mother never disgraced me by an act of dishonesty, I hope to echo back the same sound of an honest, upright man. I am well satisfied that the Lord saw fit you should be my parents rather than the king and queen, or any of the great,"

Again:

I

"I have often revolved the serious thought of my return to a single circuit, step down, and act as lay-preacher. to you. I have frequently asked myself if I could retire This, if I know my own heart, is not my difficulty. With re-humility I may say one hundred thousand respectable cithundred local preachers, would advise me not to go. izens of the New World, three hundred traveling and six hope the voice of the people is the voice of God. I am like Joseph, I want to have my parents near me. I am not ashamed of your poverty; and, I hope, after so many years professing religion, you will not be wanting in piety. You have spent many pounds upon Christian people, I know, from my childhood. Happy was I when this was done, and I hope it will come home to you in mercy."

"If I should die in celibacy, which I think quite probable, I give the following reasons for what can scarcely be called my choice. I was called in my fourteenth year; I began my public exercises between sixteen and seventeen; at twenty-one I traveled; at twenty-six I came to Amer

When his good mother died he wrote in his journal a beautiful tribute to her memory:

ica; thus far I had reason enough for a single life. It had been my intention of returning to Europe at thirty years of age; but the war continued, and it was ten years before "For fifty years her hands, her house, and her heart we had a settled, lasting peace; this was no time to marry were open to receive the people of God and the ministers or be given in marriage. At forty-nine I was ordained of Christ, and thus a lamp was lighted up in a dark place. Superintendent Bishop in America. Among the duties She was an afflicted yet most active woman, of quick bodimposed upon me by my office was that of traveling ex-ily powers and masculine understanding nevertheless, so tensively, and I could hardly expect to find a woman with grace enough to enable her to live but one week out of the fifty-two with her husband; besides, what right has any man to take advantage of the affections of a woman, make her his wife, and by voluntary absence subvert the whole order and economy of the marriage state, by separating those whom neither God, nature, nor the requirements of civil society permit long to be put asunder? It is neither just nor generous. I may add to this, that I had little money, and with this little administered to the necessities of a beloved mother until I was fifty-seven. If I have done wrong, I hope God and the sex will forgive me; it is my duty now to bestow the pittance I may have to spare upon the widows and fatherless girls, and poor married

men."

He did not urge his own course upon his preachers, though, as to the young men, he deemed it important that they should not be too hasty in the matter. Much of his work, specially on the extended frontiers, required single men; besides, his theory was, that they should wait till they had formed a ministerial character, and acquired some suitable qualifications for the duties of their office, and also, by a larger experience,

kindly all the elements mixed in her. Her strong mind quickly felt the subduing influences of that Christian sympathy which 'weeps with those that weep,' and 'rejoices with those who rejoice.' As a woman and a wife she was refined, modest, blameless; as a mother-above all the women in the world I claim her for my own--ardently affectionate. As a mother in Israel few of her sex have done more by personal labor to support the Gospel and wash the saints' feet. As a friend she was generous, true, and constant."

Asbury's whole nature was generous and kindly. He dearly loved his friends, was tenderly affectionate toward children, and deeply sympathized with the suffering. When in Chillicothe, Ohio, he visited the grave of a dear friend, wife of Governor Tiffin, and sister of Governor Worthington; and returning to her late home, he wrote:

"Within sight of this beautiful mansion lies the preeious dust of Mary Tiffin. It was as much as I could do to forbear weeping as I mused over her speaking grave. sorrows; little knows how dear to me are my many friends, How mutely cloquent! Ah! the world knows little of my and how deeply I feel their loss!"

His attentions to children were most kindly and winning. Like the Master, he would take them in his arms and bless them. Here a simple fact speaks much. One day a little boy, seeing him approach the house, ran in and said: "Mother, I want my face washed and a clean apron on; for Bishop Asbury is coming, and I am sure he will hug me up.' When his dear friend, Rev. Henry Willis, died he hastened to the stricken family, expressed his deepest sympathy for the bereaved wife, then kissed and encircled in his arms the six orphan children, blessed them in the name of the Lord, and prayed with them. This was the stern man, the autocrat-i. e., Bishop, ruling over many preachers and people.

Amidst all he is a diligent student.

ains that could not be carried by assault. Then, adding all the other labors, where is the like of this? In such labors he has reached Virginia and held his conference. Now he has twenty days till the Baltimore Conference, and may rest. We want him to rest. We say in our souls, Dear Bishop, rest! How welcome in many good homes in Virginia and Maryland! There, near Baltimore, is Perry Hall, the splendid home of his dear friend Harry Gough, and a favorite resort of his. Or, how his coming would gladden the beautiful homes of Governor Barratt, or Judge White, or Governor Bassett, of Delaware? But does he rest? No. "The Bishop preached every day, going miles out of our direct route, visiting and confirming the His tours were now, and had been for many churches during the interval between the Viryears, truly continental. He had no starting-ginia and Baltimore Conferences." place, his round being as complete as a circle, though his movements through it, if not quite so rapid as the lightning, were often quite as zigzag. Once, when traveling in Ohio, a man met him, who abruptly asked, "Where are you from?" He promptly answered, "From Boston, New York, Philadelphia, Baltimore, or almost any place you please." No answer could have been more literally true. Never was it truer of a general-in-chief that his head-quarters were in the field than it was of Bishop Asbury. If we should take Baltimore as a starting-point, his course would lie through Delaware and New Jersey, touching Philadelphia by the way, and reaching on through New York and through New England as far as Maine; then it would sweep round northward and west-istered to the sick. ward into Western New York. Once it carried him around through Canada. From New York his course would lie westward through Pennsylvania and Ohio to its southern boundary, often touching Western Virginia by the way. His route on the return would carry him through Kentucky, Tennessee, Georgia, the Carolinas, Virginia, and Maryland. For many years he made annually this long tour. And there were so many divergences from the directer lines that the average of his yearly travels was eight thousand miles. Nearly all was accomplished on horseback.

Much of it was through wildernesses and against many hindrances. Add now his ceaseless preaching, his frequent illness, his seven or eight yearly conferences, each occupying nearly a week, his care of so many churches and preachers, with all the thousand incidental demands upon his time and strength, and you have a measure of toil never surpassed, if ever equaled.

Beginning his ministry with little culture, and ever upon the wing, he made himself familiar with the Scriptures in the original Hebrew and Greek. He was well informed on general subjects, particularly history and theology. "In practical prudence, the wisdom which is profitable to direct in the government of large bodies of men, he perfected himself beyond almost any modern example, as the great results of his administration prove." He encouraged education, and founded schools, and a college even, though it perished by fire while he was yet in the career of his toils. Finding, in his extended frontier tours, very many without proper medical treatment, he studied medicine and profitably min

Who can estimate the deep and pervasive, healthful and elevating influence of such a life? It is as broad as the whole country, and there are few homes in which it is not directly or indirectly felt. His preachers and people felt the glow of his piety and zeal, and the inspiration of his heroic life. He was as an oracle among them, and, traveling so extensively, was the teacher of all. His sermons, his counsels, his exhortations, and prayers would be remembered and talked over in each place for months after he had passed on. Then his expected return would renew the recollection and the conversation; so that he was much as one with them all the while. Such a life is mighty, and beautiful as well. Away in Ohio, and in 1812, he writes: "People call me by name as they pass me on the road, and I hand them a religious tract in German or English, or I call at a door for a glass of water and leave a little pamphlet. How can I be useful?"

Thus, going with the people, and sending his preachers with them through all those vast regions, now forming numerous mighty States, he laid deeply and broadly the foundations of a noble Christian civilization. He wielded the

He is always at work in the families or taverns where he lodges on the ways of travel, in the churches and conferences on week-day and on Sunday. When sixty-seven years of age, and much broken, we find him traveling six thousand miles in eight months. This is twen-chief forces which have moulded and fashioned ty-five miles a day, and, considering the roads, their social, moral, and religious life. These enough of toil in itself. But you must deduct forces have survived him, and moved onward eight or ten weeks for his conferences, and hin- with the people, and wrought upon them to the drances by sickness, and by floods and mount-present day. They have likewise extended to

the utmost east, and north, and south, and | his room, and just at its close he went home to wrought upon them there. And however others his rest. may have influenced the speculative, religious thought of America, no one has wrought so deeply and broadly into its living religious thought and feeling. The fruits of his plans and labors were marvelous in his own day; and they have wonderfully flourished down to the present time. To-day his followers, in the close affinities of ecclesiastic polity and Christian faith, number, in their ministry with the local, 28,000, in their communicants about 2,000,000, with all their vast educational, moral, and Christian appliances, and an affiliated population of about 8,000,000.

But now in his seventy-first year, in the spring of 1816, he is still upon his great tour. He has come up through the Carolinas into Virginia. He is in Richmond, worn, weak, sick. Most men would have been sick abed while he has been traveling and preaching. It is Sunday morning. He must preach. Entreaties and remonstrances ever are resisted; he must once more deliver his message in Richmond. Then strong and kindly arms bear him gently into the church. And there, seated in the midst of the thronged people, he opens his message: "For he will finish the work and cut it short in righteousness." For nearly an hour, his words, still plain and wise, direct and pungent, fall upon the listening, weeping people. It is his last sermon. In a few days the wheels of life that have run so swiftly stop forever. From Richmond he moves on till he reaches the friendly home of George Arnold, near Fredericksburg. There he lingered a few days amidst loving friends. On the Sabbath a Christian service was held in

Thus he ended his forty-five years of American labor. When he came to these shores the materials gathered to his hand were 8 or 10 preachers and 600 members. With these he began to lay the foundations and rear the Church. He lived to see it a noble structure. He left 211,000 members, and about 3000 preachers, itinerant and local. His sermons in America are reckoned at 16,500, or at least one a day; his travels at 270,000 miles, or 6000 miles a year. He presided in about 225 conferences, and ordained more than 4000 preachers. conferences must have required the time of four years. In Christian labors none have equaled; in the wisdom of his administration and the success of his plans, few, if any, have surpassed him.

These

In the May soon following his death, and during the session of the General Conference, his remains were carried to Baltimore. There all his leading preachers, and a multitude of members and citizens, followed him to his grave and buried him as their father. And here we pronounce over his grave his own words uttered over that of Willis, and in which he so vividly pictures his own life of toil in contrast with the peaceful repose of his friend:

"Rest, man of God! Thy quiet dust is not called to ride 5000 miles in eight months, to meet 10 conferences in

a line of sessions from the district of Maine to the banks to Cape Fear, James River, Baltimore, Philadelphia, and of the Cayuga, to the States of Ohio, Tennessee, Mississippi, the completion of the round. Thou wilt not plan and labor and arrange the stations of 700 preachers. Thou wilt not attend camp-meetings and take a daily part in the which ought to be devoted to sleep in writing letters upon ministration of the Word, and often consume the hours letters."

THE SWORD OF DAMOCLES.

On thy head, oh child of folly,
With the blow of blame;
On thy heart, unconscious lover,
With the smite of shame;
On thy hopes, ambitious dreamer,
Leaving not a name.

On thy gray hairs, weeping mother,
Ere they bring thy dead;
On thy pale face, girl of passion,
Ere the night is sped;

On thee, priest before the altar,
Ere thy prayer is said.

On thee, maiden, with eyes shaded,
Waiting at the gate;

On thee, young man, ripe and earnest,
Come to thy estate;

On thee, weary one, who crieth,

"Why so late-so late?"

Fall it may with swift-winged vengeance
Bidding evil cease;

Fall it may with blest redemption

Bringing sweet release;

Fall it may with angel's summons

Like a song of Peace.

THE FOOL CATCHER.

ey; an iron constitution wearing thin for want of rest, from the hurry of money-making. Fall

THE Fool Catcher and I were walking down into line, Mr. Grinder!"

THE I were

of names under his arm, and I, wishing that I had been born, lived, and died, in those quiet days before he commenced his grand rounds. Mrs. Smythe herself came to the first door at which we rang; the briskest little woman in the neighborhood. With a bow the Fool Catcher

handed her his card.

"Oh!" said Mrs. Smythe, looking first at the card and then curiously at my companion, "So you really do make your rounds! But you are at the wrong house; Mrs. Clematis lives the next, the next-why-good Mr. Fool Catcher," stammering and startled by something in the look of his eye-"you don't, you can't, you surely don't mean that you came for me?"

And so here were we-Mrs. Smythe, Grinder, and I-marching on after the Fool Catcher.

Across the street stood an Irish girl at her area gate, and, as she stared at us, dropped from her hand a letter which the Fool Catcher caught, and glancing over it, smiled grimly. It read as follows:

When I'm sick of 20th Street I tries 17th unless I takes a

"Its movin agin Ive been Maggy & livin out now is like the young ladies at the piano you touches one key here & another there & don't stay long on none of them notion to 34th when I flies in a temper with 17th Street & so on And so Im livin now with a woman in 23d Street I has the waitress place & theres two ladies beside meself, for cook & chambermaid & a colored boy to do errands & tend door & a day woman in every week to do the washing & ironing that the woman Mistress Blivins that is tried first to put off on the lady thats cook & meself & we are very re"Dear Mrs. Smythe," answered the Fool spectable though we has no reception day & no man waitCatcher, blandly, "there are many species of er But thin I minds them things the less that I have me Fool; and, candidly, I have not on my books eye on a place in the avenue & in this way we has variety & a chance to study the american faymale characther & a more monstrous instance of extravagant folly I does the thing rigular bekase I wants to improve my than your life. Why, my dear Madam, it is mind & acquire general information & oh Mollie its a well known that you have paid over all your quare thing is the american faymale characther for the husband's peace and your children's comfort to keep the sun from your carpets, dust from your cornices, and scratches from your furniture; to say nothing of the fact that being given a good husband and sweet children to develop into a family, you have nothing to show, at the end of fifteen years, but an unfaded carpet and a set of china, without a flaw, that you had on your marriage. Sorry to distress you, but really you must fall into line, ma'am."

So Mrs. Smythe took up her march behind me, and we went on to the door of Mrs. Clematis, a dear little soul; but standing to Mrs. Smythe for smartness in the ratio of a tack to a marline-spike.

"Good-morning, Mrs. Clematis," said the Fool Catcher, politely raising his hat to that little woman, quaking in her door. "Sensible, sunshiny woman!" to us. "She has discovered that families are not made for houses, but houses for families. I have a great respect for her. Her husband is one of the happiest men in town," and if you can credit me, the Fool Catcher passed on; actually passed Mrs. Clematis's door and stopped at Grinder's. I was not anxious to attract the Fool Catcher's attention more particularly to myself, but I could not help ejaculating:

"Why, this is Grinder's house!" as if I had said Minerva's.

ladies you see are all as good as each other & so none of em wont lift a finger bekase her neighbor dont & the poor american women thats sewin out their hearts they are all as good as any body too & theyll starve sooner nor live out bekase they wont take the ladies airs & the ladies Il suffer sooner nor have em bekase they cant stand the womens airs & so we steps in even if we dont know b from bulls foot & rules the ladies that is as good as each other & better nor the poor american women jist bekase theres nobody else to be had & they knows if they sends us off to thinkin that this is some of my blowin why didnt I hear day theyll git no better or worse to morrow & if youre

Mistress Blivins with me own ears complainin that she couldnt eat the dinners & that I broke more nor my wages in china by the same token that she darent send us packing."

"Oh, Holy Vargin!" here burst in the Irish girl, "to think that I shud iver be cotched fur a fool! Worra! worra! and what will”

"You are quite mistaken," cut in the Fool Catcher, handing back her letter. "You are any thing but a fool, my dear; but you can call your mistress if you please."

And so Mrs. Blivins fell into line, and we marched on-Mrs. Smythe, Mrs. Blivins, Grinder, and I—when we came suddenly on Mollie, in very high boots, and very short skirt, scalloped, ruffled, be-braided, be-buttoned, and betasseled; a monstrous knob of back-hair, covered with a net, bristling with small curls, of which I haven't the name, but which unassisted Nature would be apt to term coiffure à la Fido; in front a species of hair-work, a hirsute fortifi"Yes," retorted the Fool Catcher, curtly; cation, elevated high above her forehead, and "one of the greatest fools on my list. Men de- likewise defended by curls, and somewhere besire money to buy ease and the good things of tween the front and back-hair a small flat panthis life; but Grinder sacrifices all ease and all cake of straw and ribbon, half hidden on the good things to get more money. He has a top of her head. As this dainty apparition apcharming wife, whom he might love if he had proached us, shoulders held high and square, time; but he hardly exchanges ten words with elbows stiffly out, and head very high, as if deher a week, he has no time to spare from money-termined not to be held responsible for the wonmaking; children running wild, because he can derful exhibition under her huge, stiff, swaying spare them no time from money-making. Fine hoop, we halted involuntarily to add her to our tastes never gratified; he must make more mon- ranks; but the Fool Catcher suffered her to

pass on, which she did without once glancing was John Pilar's house, who looked at the Fool toward us, following her with something like pity in his inflexible face.