USA > Delaware > Methodism of the peninsula, or, Sketches of notable characters and events in the history of Methodism in the Maryland and Delaware peninsula > Part 10
USA > Maryland > Methodism of the peninsula, or, Sketches of notable characters and events in the history of Methodism in the Maryland and Delaware peninsula > Part 10
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one of the Doctor's knotty questions, he greatly amused his brother neophytes, and no doubt propitiated the favor of the examining committee, by concluding his discouraging attempt at an answer with the following triumphant apology : "Excuse me, Brother Crooks; you know I'm but a Child, and I cannot speak !"
At a great camp-meeting held by Dr. Adam Wallace, in Morris' woods near Georgetown, Delaware, in the summer of 1856, Mr. Childs was present and aided efficiently in the services. It became his turn to preach his second sermon at the camp on Monday afternoon. On coming into the stand, however, Dr. Wallace dis- covered that he was very hoarse and breathing hard from Asthma, besides suffering some inconvenience from errors of diet. Explaining where he would find a bottle of Jamaica Ginger in the preachers' marque, the kind Doctor sent him thither to take a dose, while the remainder of the straggling members of the congrega- tion were gathering. Delaying his return until the patience of the preacher in charge was exhausted, brother Wallace went to hunt him in the tent, where he found him doubled up and writhing in the most fearful agony. Poor Childs, supposing the vial, which was nearly full, to contain about a fair dose for an adult Englishman, had swallowed its entire contents of the fiery liquid. The effect was "as if a whole torch- light procession had gone down his throat!" He was wheezing, coughing, suffocating, and gasping pitifully for water; and the sympathizing Irishman ran to his
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relief as soon as possible with the grateful draught. Surprising to relate, he soon cooled off, and recovered his normal condition in time to preach; and being, for the time, relieved of his severe asthmatic paroxysm, both his voice and his intellect were untrammeled, and he acquitted himself grandly. Not being assured, however, by this precedent, that swallowing two ounces of Jamaica Ginger before preaching would produce a similar result, the author, although an asthmatic, does not feel inclined to risk the experiment.
An amusing story used to be told, in my boyhood days, of one whom I may call Nathaniel Nimrod. It has more than once appeared in print, but was probably apocryphal, or, at least, was improperly associated with the name of a person who was in no way therewith connected. Doubtless incidents somewhat similar have occurred in the varied experiences of the Methodist fathers; and, on account of its grotesque humor, the episode is too good to be lost.
The hero-so the story goes-resided in Caroline Co., Md., not far from Greensborough. Occasionally, on Sundays, Mr. Nimrod would dress up in his best linsey- woolsey, saddle old "Bill," a white mule, and attend service at the Greensborough Methodist Church.
It so happened, on one of those Sundays, that the brother who led the singing was absent. When the good pastor announced the opening hymn, beginning :
"Lord, in the morning thou shalt hear
My voice ascending high."
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Mr. A. nodded to B., and B. to C .; but no one dared to start a tune. There was an awkward pause, and it seemed as if that important part of the service must needs be omitted ; when Mr. Nimrod spoke out : "Mr. Preacher ; s'pose you give them words out agin. If you will, I think I kin strike a tune." Again the minister repeated the first two lines ; when, to the amazement of everybody, the self-constituted chorister fitted the first line to the then popular song-"Pretty Betty Martin, Tiptoe Fine," after the following style :
"Lord, in the mornin', thou shalt-thou shalt Lord, in the mornin' thou shalt hear ;"-
Then, discovering the impossibility of making the words further fit the jolly hoe-down, he wound up his perform- ance by reciting, in a discouraged nasal squeak,
"My voice ascending high !"
The greatly mortified pastor said, "Let us pray ;" but between the humiliation of the saints and the merriment of the sinners, begotten by the effort of the rustic soloist, the praying was nearly as sad a failure as the singing.
Rev. Jonas Bissey was a Methodist itinerant, some- what noted in his day for both his excellencies and his peculiarities. Not, however, until near the close of his life was his ministry attended with any marked success. An experience of official criticism and complaint at con- ference one spring, seemed to have spurred him on to a fuller consecration and a more devoted effort; and, thenceforth, his labors were prolific of great good, and 7*
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his life was a benediction to the churches where he ministered. One of the peculiarities of his earlier preaching was that he sometimes became absurdly theatrical in manner, indulging in the wildest ravings and the most grotesque antics.
While travelling Snow Hill circuit in 1843, he preached at all the appointments a favorite discourse, called by the older people to this day, "Bissey's Hell- fire sermon." The text was, "These shall go away into everlasting punishment." On reaching his perora- tion, it was his custom to work himself up into a kind of frenzy, in which he seemed to imagine himself a lost soul, tortured in the flames of perdition. At a bush- meeting, held at Spring Hill, where he preached this sulphurous sermon, leaping from the stand, he flung himself upon the ground, rolling and writhing amid the straw, shrieking "Fire ! fire ! fire !" and plaintively pleading with an imaginary father Abraham to send some Lazarus of pity to the relief of his agony. Such was his apparent distress, and so vivid the woeful tragedy to susceptible natures, that more than one of his female hearers fainted away from sheer terror.
Sometime afterwards, Mr. Bissey preached the same ser- mon at Newark appointment. Most of the discourse was heavy and uninteresting-especially as many in the audi- ence had already heard it once or more; and old brother M- had yielded to the influence of "tired nature's sweet restorer," and gone fast to sleep. Struggling hard but vainly to awaken an interest, the preacher came at
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last to the climax, where success or failure depended upon the effectiveness of his final impassioned effort. After picturing a lost soul amid the flames of the awful pit, throwing himself into the tragic attitude of dis- tracted suffering, Mr. Bissey began, at the top of his voice, to scream, "Fire ! fire !! fire !!! " when the old brother aforesaid, awaking suddenly and supposing the church had caught fire from the stove-pipe, began to tear around among the brethren like a demoniac, drowning the preacher's impassioned utterances with his lusty yells for "Water ! water !! water !!! "
Completely taken by surprise, Mr. Bissey ceased his tragic performance; looked a few moments in utter astonishment at the old farmer's unaccountable antics ; and thoroughly discomfited, with his favorite sermon in ruins, he dejectedly resumed his seat. Upon explanation all around, it was hard to tell whether Mr. Bissey or old brother M- was the more discouraged and humiliated.
In 1851, while preaching in New London Church, in Pennsylvania, in the midst of a thunder-storm, Mr. Bissey was killed by lightning in the presence of his terrified audience. His labors had been greatly blessed in all that region ; and now that they were ended, his Master called him suddenly home.
This chapter may appropriately conclude by intro- ducing to the reader a pious and simple-minded but very quaint and peculiar local preacher, known extensively in his day throughout central Delaware as "Daddy Apple- ton." Mr. Appleton was very zealous, but from all
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that appears, his zeal was not always "according to knowledge." It is altogether probable that when his brethren of Duck Creek Quarterly Conference voted him a local preacher's license, they spoiled a fairly good exhorter. Only a few scraps of his history have floated down to us of this day; and these were preserved and narrated by the late Hon. Charles Marim, whose fondness for a good story may have sometimes betrayed him into a shade of exaggeration. However, Daddy Appleton's oddity must have been extreme, and ofttimes most ludicrous.
His boy, "Giddie," as his name might import, was by no means a saint. Giddie would have fun even at family prayers; and, to make it a little more attractive to the other children, he would sometimes indulge quietly in such responsive exclamations as "halleluia !" and "amen !" On one occasion, having become a little too hilarious, he was overheard, and was duly admonished by his father that, should there be any repetition of this unseemly conduct, he would be sure to receive a good "trouncing." It wasn't many days until he was caught. One morning, in the midst of the old gentleman's prayer, Giddie's " amen !" was ejaculated just a hair's breadth too late to be entirely smothered by his father's louder tones. Leaving the petition unfinished, Mr. Appleton deliberately arose from his knees, took down the waiting rod, divested Giddie of his jacket, applied the remedy until he was giddy no longer ; and then, as deliberately, returned to his knees and began where he left off; and
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when he reached the "amen," Giddie's discouraged sniffle was the only response !
Mr. Marim used to relate what he declared was a fair representation of a sermon he once heard Daddy Apple- ton deliver at a country chapel. During the interval of twenty-five years since he heard it, much of this unique discourse has faded from the historian's memory. A part only of the "points" made by the preacher can be recalled. Exaggeration is impossible. The text was : " And he receiv-ed him joyfully." Said the preacher : "My dyin', mortal friends ; I don't feel very well to-day. I tuck some doctor's stuff last night. Feel powerful weak-like this mornin'. When I waked up and riz this mornin', the Devil said to me, sez he : 'How are you a goin' to your appintment to-day ? Your old hoss is lame ; you're poorly yourself; and it's no use,- you can't go.' Sez I to Satin, sez I,-You're a liar. Guess I've got legs and kin walk ; and so I will, sez I. 'And he receiv-ed him joyfully !'
"My dear sinner friends ; I've got a powerful bad taste in my mouth to-day. It's from that nasty medi- cine, I'm shore. Sometimes I've a great mind to never take no more doctor's truck while I'm above ground. I don't see what use doctors are no how : kill about as many as they cure, I reckon, on an average. I never can preach fit for nothin' when I've got a bad taste in my mouth. But, breetherin' and sisterin', you pray for me ; and may be I'll git along right well after all. ' And he receiv-ed him joyfully !'
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"Now, none o' you sinners needn't think I've come here to preach this mornin' without knowin' what I'm about. There's some wonderful smart critics now-a-days, Zaccheus-like, a climbin' up sycamore trees to git above common people ; and they think they kin see a mighty sight further nor other folks; and then go off a chucklin' and a makin' remarks about the sermont. Fact is, some of these folks know no more about preachin' nor a hog knows about makin' mince pies. And some folks that 'll set and nod all the time o' meetin', will go home and find fault with the preachin'. Now, how kin such sleepy- heads tell what the preacher's been a sayin'? 'And he receiv-ed him joyfully.'
"For my part, I don't see how anybody can expect me to preach much of a 'scourse, when ther's sich car- ryin's on a goin' on in the house. Some o' you young folks hev been a whisperin' an' snickerin' jest as ef you was at a show ; and back yander on the gallery steps is that big, strappin' darkey with three or four combs stuck in his wool; and he's a grinnin' and a grinnin' like a baboon monkey, same's he was at a hoe-down. People as don't know how to behave are a plaguey sight wuss 'n Zaccheus ; for he went to meetin' outen curiosity ; but some good come outen it to him; for he come down when Jesus called him. 'And he receiv-ed him joyfully.'
" My dear breetherin'; Sinners is often as mischiev- e-ous as a lot of bothersome goats; but true Christians is jest like a flock of sheep-the worser the weather the closer they'll huddle together. I've watched 'em many "
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a time on a rainy day. After a good mess of grass, they'll come together and lay down under the shelter of a tree or somethin'. And ef ther's one's happened to git out'n the parsture, the rest 'll all bleat for him ; and, bime by, he'll hear 'em; and he'll run up and down the road a cryin' ba-a-a, ba-a-a, ontil at last he'll jump back agin; and then the whole flock 'll git up and run to meet him. 'And he receiv-ed him joyfully."
"O, my dear Sisterin'; there was my poor, dear wife Chloe : she's gone to Heaven and left me. She could beat any woman in Duck Creek Cross Roads a makin' short cake and coffee. Whenever I used to git sick while she was a livin', her good tendin' and cookin' would soon bring me around agin all right. Ah, friends, ef I'd only a had a little of Chloe's short cake and coffee this mornin', I'd a preached as good agin a sermont. I hope I shall git to Heaven, bye-and-bye, and be with her agin; and, ef the Lord will let her, I want her to make me one more mess of her good short cake and coffee. 'And he receiv-ed him joyfully !'"
It is altogether probable, that when Daddy Appleton hadn't a bad taste in his mouth, he could preach a much better "sermont " than the above specimen. Long years ago he went to join his beloved Chloe in the better land.
It may seem strange to us who enjoy the light and the opportunities of this age, that a man so ludicrously odd, and of so little culture, could ever have been authorized as a teacher of religion; but we are to remember that God can thresh the mountain with the frailest worm ;
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and that multitudes of the denizens of the forests of Kent, seventy-five years ago, were much more ignorant and unkempt than this simple-minded but sincere and pious child of nature. The harvest was great and the laborers were few ; and though, measured by the standards of our times, Daddy Appleton would have been very far below the mark of acceptability, he may have been pecu- liarly fitted for some phases of a Local Preacher's work in the region and generation in which he lived.
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CHAPTER VI.
HYMENEAL AND BAPTISMAL.
W HEN catering for guests, so many of whom are candidates for matrimony, it would, by no means, answer to omit some crumbs from the banqueting hall of Cupid. This masculine fairy is a quaint little scamp, and is given to the mischievous pastime of getting people into all sorts of odd " scrapes," from which, with all his fair promises, he sometimes utterly neglects to relieve them. If the youthful reader does not wish sometime to be caught in a ridiculous attitude, the pru- dent course is to keep out of the way of Cupid's pretty little arrows.
Some three decades ago, Rev. A. M. Wiggins, of the Philadelphia Conference, a newly fledged Deacon never having tied the silken knot, was sent to Annamessex circuit, at that time including the Tangier Island. While on his first visit to that point, he was approached one night by a young oysterman, who thus accosted him : " Mr. Preacher, me and my gal wants to git fixed up: kin you do anything for us?"
"I'm the very man that can help you," replied the parson, as the image of a five dollar note flitted athwart his eager vision ; at the same time extending his hand to
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receive the license the youth handed him. Upon scanning the document, however, he found it was issued in Mary- land, and said to the young man :
"My dear sir, I can do nothing for you on this license. It is issued from Princess Anne; and we are in Virginia. You'll have to try again."
"Well, now, Mr. Preacher," rejoined the eager candi- date, "I guess that don't make no difference. You jest jump into my bugeye, with me an' my gal ; and I'll· have you in Maryland waters in less'n no time."
Accordingly, the parson, and a friend as witness, got into the boat with the intended bride and groom ; and, in a short time, the happy candidate announced that they were within the bounds of "My Maryland," and said: "Guess you kin crack yer whip and drive ahead now, Mr. Preacher !"
The blushing maiden was in the little cabin, whither all the party repaired, leaving the graceful craft mean- time to drift with the current. The cabin was about 4x6 feet, and 5 feet high in the clear, necessitating one, in the attempt to stand up straight, to stand down crooked somewhat in the shape of the crescent. The ex- pectant couple sat upon the "locker," while the parson, thinking it more decorous, and more becoming to the important occasion, attempted to stand; and, book in hand, proceeded to read the marriage ritual, by the light of a tallow candle held by the friend at his side. He had read but the words: "Dearly beloved; we are gathered here in the presence of God," when the little
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vessel gave an unfortunate lurch, causing the parson, in the effort to maintain his equilibrium, to knock the candle to the floor and extinguish it,-the next lurch pitching him headlong into the bride's lap. He gath- ered himself up as best he could in the darkness. There was not a match to be found in the ship; and yet a match must needs be made. The preacher knew not a word of the marriage ceremony; and was necessitated to extemporize one for the emergency. It was like nothing, he said, in Earth or Heaven-like nothing from the cata- combs of the early saints, or the mythological fables of the pagan annals; and the confused divine finally wound up his nondescript performance by pronouncing the bewildered couple "man and woman together;" and, landing again finally on Tangiers, launched them forth on a voyage of discovery to ascertain, as best they could, their mutual relations.
In 1863, while residing temporarily on a farm in Caroline county, Maryland, the writer was permitted to look, with pleasurable anticipations, upon some fine broods of spring chickens he had nurtured to that inter- esting point in their development when they were about ready for broiling. One night in June, some godless scamp, "against the peace and dignity of the Common- wealth," and the rights of a "supernumerary," borrowed about a dozen of these attractive birds ; thus violating the "General Rules" by "taking up goods without any probability of paying for them." The next night the parson either heard, or dreamed he heard, a commotion
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in the poultry yard. Suspecting more fowl play, he leaped from his bed ; and, without delaying to make his toilet, sallied forth on a skirmish of investigation.
"All was quiet along the lines" of chicken coops ; and the preacher had about reached the conclusion that the alarm was but "the ugly phantom of a tragic dream;" but he proceeded in his stealthy and ghostly wanderings, until he reached the lawn gate; when, what was his surprise and indignation, at three o'clock A. M., to discover a horse and carriage standing before his cot- tage door.
" A pretty state of affairs, indeed !" said he to himself. "You are not content with what chickens you can carry off in a bag; but propose to take them away by the carriage-load ! Well, we'll see about this business !" And, forgetful of the figure he cut, he strode boldly up to the side of the vehicle, and excitedly called out : " Hallo, here !"
"Hal-lo !" was the sleepy response.
"Who's here ?" he angrily inquired.
"Smith."
"What Smith ?"
"Jeems Henry Smith."
"Well; where does Mr. Jeems Henry Smith belong?" "In Mashy-Hope."
"What does Jeems Henry Smith, of Marshy-Hope, want here at this time of the night ?"
"Want to git married !"
"Get married, indeed ! Whom do you want to get
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married to !" for the parson saw but the one person in the darkness.
"Oh, I've got her here in my lap ! She's asleep !"
"O, ah! yes, sir !" said the parson changing his tone and manner. "How long have you been waiting here, Mr. Smith ?"
"Got yer about ten or eleven o'clock last night, sir."
"Why didn't you wake me up, Mr. Smith?"
"Feered of the dogs, sir."
"Well, Mr. Smith, you wake up your intended, and I will get ready as soon as possible and see what I can do for the relief of your case."
Accordingly the supernumerary returned to the house, in pleasant humor on account of the financial expectations incident to such a romantic occasion ; awoke his dreaming spouse; dressed hastily; admitted the eager but patient couple; and soon pronounced them-not "man and woman," like parson Wiggins, but husband and wife; tendered congratulations, and invited Mr. and Mrs. Jeems Henry Smith to be seated.
In a few moments, said Mr. Smith :
"I suppose you don't mind givin' a fellow a cer- tifick-it?"
"Certainly not, sir," responded the parson; and pro- ceeded to fill out the coveted "certifick-it," at a cost of twenty-five cents for the neat blank.
"What's yer charge?" inquired Mr. Smith some- what sheepishly; meanwhile fumbling his clothing and ramming his huge fists down into his trousers' pockets.
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"O, Mr. Smith," replied the parson, "I never make any formal charge. I always suppose a gentleman will pay the preacher according to his ability, and in proportion to his estimate of his bride;" fully expecting that this adroit little speech would be rewarded with a liberal fee. The thermometer of expectation, however, fell rapidly to away down below zero as Mr. Smith drawled out : "Well, I haint 'zacly got the change to- night; but I'll see you in Denton next Chuseday." The author has never seen Mr. Jeems Henry Smith of "Mashey-Hope," since that memorable and romantic night; and the bridegroom's promise to pay is one of the parson's many investments and stocks still remaining on interest.
Writing of this long-overdue obligation recalls, among others, a somewhat similar incident dating back to 1860. When stationed at Cambridge, Md., the author was summoned, one blustery, bitter-cold night, to ride six miles to the Blackwater Swamp, to unite a young couple in wedlock. His young friend, " Tom" Rea, agreed to take the parson "for the fun of the thing;" but the lat- ter volunteered to divide with him the wedding fee. This proved to be the promise of a pig, on the part of the very promising young husband. The parson has not yet made the acquaintance of his pigship; but if he had, at that date, arrived on his mundane "rootin' ground," he must, by this time, have reached Jumbonic propor- tions, and be a very valuable swine. Nevertheless, should Mr. Barnum desire this colossal animal to fill
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the vacancy occasioned by the "tragic taking off" of his pet elephant, he can purchase the ministerial interest therein on accommodating terms.
The "fire" probably enkindled by the matrimonial alliances involved in the above incidents will, no doubt, be ample for any ordinary "dish of hash." It now remains to provide the "water." This duty may be ap- propriately performed by supplying a few sketches of Peninsular baptisms.
Bishop Asbury left a provision in his will, requiring his Executor to furnish a Bible to every boy, at the time of the testator's death bearing the name of Francis Asbury. Mr. Bohm informs us that, under this provision of the good man's last will and testament, he was under the necessity of supplying between five and six hundred Bibles ; and he supposes. there were at least as many more boys bearing the honored name, who, failing to learn in time of their good fortune, never claimed the legacy.
The late Governor, Thomas Holliday Hicks, of Maryland, was very popular with the masses, especially in Dorchester, his native county. Not a few boys were adorned by their parents with his honored name. Rev. Thos. L. Poulson, D. D., now of the New York East Conference, was called to officiate at the baptism of one of these fortunate Dorchester youngsters.
"Name this child," said the preacher.
"Governor Hicks," was the father's response.
"Well," said the minister, "but the Governor's name
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is Thomas Holliday. You mean, I suppose, to call him Thomas Hicks, or Holliday Hicks, or Thomas Holliday Hicks?"
"No, sir-ee!" said the patriotic parent. " You christen him jest like I tell you; his name is Governor Hicks!" and so he was baptized.
The same minister was once the junior colleague of Rev. Abraham Freed, on Annamessex circuit, and was immensely popular with the colored population. During the year a day was appointed, at a central point, as a general baptizing occasion. Scores of both white and colored were present, to dedicate their little ones to God and the church, in the holy ordinance, Mr. Freed offici- ating. One of the colored matrons, desiring to honor her junior preacher in the name of her promising pic- aninny; and being apprehensive of the appearance of an invidious indifference towards the preacher in charge, deemed it best, in order to avoid such a construction, to add also her senior pastor's name. To the preacher's interrogatory therefore she gave response: "Yes, Sah; dis chile's name's Abraham Freed Thomas L. Poulsing Johnsing, Sah." "O, tut, tut!" said the modest parson, "Sam, I baptize thee," etc. After dismissal of the ser- vice, the poor, injured woman sought her junior preacher, and thus comforted him: "Neber you mind, Massa Poulsing! Dis chile's a gwine ter have your name, sar- tin! An' now Massa Freed's done gone christened him 'Sam,' he sha'n't have no part in de oner at all-so he sha'n't !"
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