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 8
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 8
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At length, in middle-life, Mr. West was stricken with an illness-the result of overwork and exposure in a protracted meeting-that proved fatal. When the serious nature of his malady became known in the com- munity, an interest little less than a panic took posses- sion of the public mind. Persons who kept a record of passing events of importance, entered upon their journals the fact of his illness and the progress of the disease, with their hopes and fears of the result, from day to day. In all public religious services, the Church put on sackcloth and ashes; and tearful and importunate prayers were offered that his valuable life might be spared. The following transcript from Mr. Dodson's journal, written at the time, will reveal better than any-
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thing I can write, the estimate in which Mr. West was held, and the deep sense of bereavement under which a whole community bowed :
" February 21st, 1853 .- Brother West still lives in a precarious situation, barely allowing hopes of his recovery. A great deal of sympathy is felt for him. He is truly a man of God, and in his death the church would experience a heavy loss.
" 22d .- It seems to be the will of the Almighty to remove Brother West from the militant to the tri- umphant Church. No hopes are entertained of his recovery. He lives, but evidently in a sinking con- dition. As might well be expected of one who has labored so long and faithfully in the service of God, his humble home and lowly couch are the scenes of the highest triumph of which the mind has conception- the triumph over death. I visited him late yesterday afternoon, and experienced that, 'the chamber where the good man meets his fate, is privileged beyond the com- mon walks of virtuous life-quite on the verge of heaven.' His chief desire was to depart and be with Christ ; and frequently clapping his hands and crying 'Victory ! Victory !' he gave to the numerous friends, who wept and rejoiced around his bed, the best assurance that he was standing upon the everlasting Rock, and contemplating, unmoved the waves of death that rolled beneath his feet. I shall not soon forget this most interesting visit to Brother West nor his dying prayer, as he grasped my hand and said; 'Brother Dodson, may the Lord bless you.'
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" 23d .- Yesterday evening, a little after sundown, the mortal sun of brother West set to rise no more. Thus has closed the life of this deeply pious, useful and beloved man. He leaves a monument in the heart of every man in the community. The whole church mem- bership are mourners. As a mark of the public esteem for the memory of this dear brother, a notice has been posted requesting that all business shall cease, on the morrow, during the funeral solemnities.
" 25th .- Brother West was interred yesterday by the Sons of Temperance, of which order he was a member. The funeral was preached by Rev. James A. Massey from a text he selected before his death-' I have fought a good fight.' The church, notwithstanding it was one of the coldest days of this winter, was crowded to over- flowing ; and stifled sobs and weeping eyes attested the high esteem in which the deceased was held. Never have I witnessed such universal and unfeigned sorrow. In the afternoon a meeting was called to consider the propriety of placing at his grave a monument to his memory, and the initiatory steps were taken to have a suitable one erected."
In a recent letter, speaking of the closing scenes of Mr. West's life, the same writer says : "And so living, the end came; and such an end ! His physician-the late Dr. James Dawson-finding it out of the question to stop him from rejoicing aloud in the prospect of vic- tory over death, or to prevent the constant stream of visitors who were eager to see and hear the dying hero,
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gave in; and the last days of his life were given to a glad and triumphant testimony to the power of that grace he had recommended to all in his life."
From a most interesting letter, received since writing the above account of this remarkable saint of God, written by Mr. James Valliant of Talbot County, Md., I glean the following :
"Garretson West was to St. Michael's and vicinity, what Joshua Thomas was to Deal's Island. Except that the latter was possessed of some property, and could read and write, they were counterparts of each other. Money was never of any value to him save as the means of support to the church, and of a bare subsistence for himself and his little family. Religion was his constant theme through the whole of every day of his life, and was closely intermixed with his every dream at night. That he was an enthusiast is undeniably true; but his enthusiasm was never of a nature to be repulsive to any one. He commanded not only the confidence, respect and esteem, but also the heartfelt affection of all who knew him, whether within or outside the pale of the church, and of whatever sect or creed. His mind and heart-his whole life, character, conduct and intent, were as pure as it is possible to conceive mortal man can attain. His whole life was a most beautiful commentary on the Christian religion.
"His success as a peacemaker and arbiter of differences, among his neighbors was unparalleled. As soon as it
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became known to him that misunderstanding or ill-will existed between any two of our people, of whatever sex or condition, he would avail himself of the first oppor- tunity to visit them ; and rarely indeed did he fail in effecting a happy reconciliation. The poor and illiterate looked to him for advice and comfort in all their diffi- culties. To these he was another Moses; and, at all times, to them his word was law. He visited and prayed with all the sick and dying; and his coming was always welcomed with gladness. His tact in imparting comfort, consolation and good cheer to the afflicted was such as few men have possessed. He could not go too often, and never failed to inspire the patient with con- fidence and hope.
"Though he never learned even so much as the alpha- bet, he was as familiar with Bible history and all the cardinal doctrines of his church as any clergyman I ever knew. Few ministers were as familiar with Scriptural texts as he. For every occasion he had ready at hand a quotation from the sayings of Christ, his Apostles or some of the prophets. He never ceased or tired of his Master's work. On the oyster rocks, with some forty or fifty others engaged in tonging oysters, his conversa- tion was an all-day sermon. If the subject of converse should drift into the secular, his part therein soon ceased to be prominent. In our village stores on rainy days, on the street, around the domestic hearth-stone, and when visiting his neighbors, his theme was the same ; or, at least, had for its main object the cultivation of a
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religious sentiment in the minds of his auditors; and, strange as it may appear, his converse never became irksome. Never in the town of St. Michael's, and within a radius of ten or twelve miles around, was the loss of a citizen so deeply and universally mourned." By reason of his liberal contributions for charity and to the support of the Church, "he was almost without a dollar at the time of his death. But he was decently buried by the affectionate contributions of his numerous friends, by whom a very substantial, though plain, monument was erected over his grave, in the old Methodist burying-ground."
A few years ago, when the Methodists of St. Michael's purchased and laid out a beautiful, new cemetery near the town, the dust of Garretson West was removed, and deposited in the central and most conspicuous location; and his tomb is the Mecca to which all the winding walks of that silent city of the dead lead the willing feet of visiting pilgrims. On the west face of his monu- ment is the inscription :
"BORN IN TALBOT COUNTY IN 1800; BORN AGAIN IN 1818; DIED IN 1853."
On the east face is chiseled :
"THOUGH POOR AND UNLEARNED,
HE WAS A BURNING AND A SHINING LIGHT ; 'ALWAYS ABOUNDING IN THE WORK OF THE LORD.' * * * * *
'I HAVE FOUGHT A GOOD FIGHT.'"'
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Such a life-history as that of Garretson West is ines- timably valuable to the Church; and deserves to be commemorated, on account of the encouragement to devotion and zeal it affords to those of humble sur- roundings and small ability. The Lord's parable of the talents exhibits the success of those of respectable and large abilities, and shows the terrible failure of him whose endowments were more humble. The life and labors of this lowly saint shows what may be expe- rienced and accomplished by the servant of but one talent; who, instead of digging and hiding his Lord's investment, lays it out in the stock of entire consecra- tion to God's service and full salvation from sin. Like the loaves and fishes, blessed by the handling, the breaking and the words of Jesus, the devoted life and efforts of Garretson West were divinely distributed to the satisfaction and enjoyment of a great multitude of many thousands.
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CHAPTER V.
EPISODES AND COLLISIONS.
MONG the eccentric and noted characters of Penin- sular Methodism of olden times, was Rev. John Collins. He was naturally angular and irascible; and seems never to have had his nature so sweetened by grace as to cease entirely the production of porcupine quills, which it was his wont to project among his auditors upon every provocation. He was particularly distin- guished for the severity of his rebukes to those guilty of any breach of order or decorum in church.
Once on a time, when Mr. Collins was preaching at Concord, Delaware, a stalwart young man named C-y, dressed in a fine new suit, with his pants tucked in the tops of his No. 12 cow-hide boots, arose in the midst of the sermon and stamped his way down the aisle and out at the door. The preacher paused and shot a fiery glance after him, but said nothing. In a few moments afterwards, John S-t arose and started for the door; when the indignant parson saluted him with : "Young man, you had better stop and sit down. Your new clothes are not near so good a fit as that other young man's."
On another occasion, however, the scolding preacher
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met his match in the person of an unfortunate slave of the bottle, who had tarried outside to take an extra sip from his flask, after the congregation had gone into the house and the services had begun. On coming in, he found but one vacant seat, and that was uncomfortably near a red-hot stove. He accepted the situation, however ; seated himself, and began attentively to listen to the sermon. It was not long until the heat of the fire and the poison of the bad whiskey produced their natural effect ; and the poor fellow was made deathly sick. Noticing his distress, Mr. Collins vociferously ordered : "Take that drunken hog out of the church!" Turning upon him a reproachful look of injured innocence, the suffering toper retorted : "I'm not-hic-not drunk- hic -- at all. It's the-hic-'s the nasty preachin's made me sick !"
Two incidents will serve to illustrate a phase of Methodist history within the Peninsula, that may be styled the politico-religious. The first happened during what Mr. Nasby calls "the late onpleasantness." The scene was a camp-meeting, at that time in progress in Kent County, Delaware. A lively meeting was going on at the front of the preaching stand. A young man, whom my Democratic readers will agree was not very well furnished in the upper story, had just " got through" -- to use the expressive language of such characters-for about the sixth time within a few years; and, in the exuberance of his excitement, mounted a bench and began to exhort his companions and tell his experience.
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Among other things, he alluded to his recent godless course, and said: "O friends! what a poor mis'able sinner I has ben! I've don a'most everything that's mean. I've broke Sunday ! I've lied ! I've cussed ! I've cheated in measurin' osters! I've sold 'ale wives' for herrin's ! And O! my dear friends, last fall I-boo-hoo! last fall, I voted the Dimmycrat ticket!" Poor, unfaith- ful Al! when last heard from, he was in the insane department of an alms house; but whether it was remorse for his ecclesiastical defections or for his political sinning was not known.
Let not the other side of the political house serenely chuckle over what they may be disposed to consider a well-deserved thrust from this poor, conscience-stricken crank ; for the glass compartment of the body politic in which they reside bears marks, here and there, of equally effective religious stone-throwing. In a Delaware village but a few miles distant from the scene of the above epi- sode, and a few years later, the Democratic part of the Methodist congregation had so grown in grace, that they could no longer consent to remain in church-fellowship with their Ephraimitish neighbors ; and calling to their aid a minister of a sister denomination having professedly "nothing whatever to do with politics," they drew with them to his ministry most of the denizens of the village ; and finally built and occupied a fine new church. At the dedication the tide of enthusiasm ran high. Relig- iously and politically it was a family gathering of kin- dred spirits. Finally, a zealous and doubtless sincere
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and honest sister, unable longer to restrain her pent-up joy, broke forth into jubilant exclamations in the follow- ing incisive language: "O, glory! Glory, hallelujah ! We've got a new church, with forty good members; and, bless the Lord ! there's not one ugly, dirty. Black Repub- lican among 'em !"
Rev. Solomon Sharp was one of the mighty heralds, whose clarion notes of war against the King's enemies were heard echoing through all the forests and valleys of the Peninsula. There seems to be but little left on record as to his life and labors; but from the most authentic traditions remaining, it is apparent, that although comparatively uncultured and given to an enthusiastic quaintness bordering on superstition, he was, nevertheless, a man of mighty faith and valiant in the wielding of his simple, spiritual armor.
There is said to have been great musical power, and singular magnetic effectiveness in his utterances. In 1856, the writer made the acquaintance of an aged gen- tleman whose name was Weeden, living on Kent Island. When a boy, Mr. Weeden heard Solomon Sharp preach his first sermon on the Island, under the spreading branches of a monster apple tree. A great crowd was gathered; and, the better to see and listen, the boy climbed into the tree above the speaker. He described Mr. Sharp's voice as "clear and full of music as a silver cornet." His appeal was indescribably terrible to the consciously wicked; and many fell under his words, like soldiers slain in the thick of the battle. Two gay young
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men who came up to the outer margin of the throng, and, with an air of laughing indifference, began to listen, soon changed their aspect to one of seriousness; and, finally, seized with the horrors of sudden conviction, turned and started to flee from the alarming scene. Pausing in his impassioned verbal torrent, Mr. Sharp's powerful voice rang out the admonition: "Young men ; if you run away, I warn you it is at your eternal peril !" And then, lifting his eyes to Heaven, and raising his clarion voice still higher, he uttered the short, sharp petition : "O, Lord ; harpoon them !" The well-aimed volley took instant effect. One partly fell under the incisive dart, but recovered himself and ran out of sight. The other wheeled as if lassoed by an angel horseman ; and running straight back to the presence of the preacher, fell crying for mercy on the ground, and there struggled until the chains of Satan's bondage were broken.
At another place on the Island, pointed out to the writer, Mr. Sharp was once preaching to a gathered com- pany in a private house. During the discourse, a respectable and usually respectful lady-a Mrs. Carter- began to rave and froth at the mouth in a most unac- countable manner, presenting the horrifying symptoms of an evil influence, similar to the demoniacal possessions of olden times. Although, when in her normal condi- tion, she was given only to the use of mild and modest language, she wildly and profanely raved against the preacher and his message. She charged him with blas- phemous hypocrisy ; and averred that, although Christ-
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ianity was divine, he and his co-workers present were the friends of the Devil; and finally dared the astonished soldier of the cross to a contest for the spiritual mastery. Taking advantage of a pause in her tirade of accusation, occasioned by a convulsion that brought her down pros- trate, and rendered her speechless, Mr. Sharp stretched forth his hands towards her; and with an emphatic stamp of his foot, and kingly tone of utterance, he said to the influence that inspired her: "I command thee, in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ, to come out of the woman !" Instantly the writhing lady became calm and apparently unconscious. The sermon was concluded; and, in the solemn prayer-meeting that followed, this "accuser of the brethren" revived, and the announce- ment was made, "Behold, she prayeth!" In a little while, she was clothed and in her right mind, and sitting with joy at the feet of Jesus. Her descendants to this day are among the most reputable citizens of Kent Island. It is said that Mr. Sharp always insisted that he was divinely inspired to his authoritative, apostolic words and work on the above occasion; and that he plainly saw the Devil, somewhat in the form of a crest- fallen and mean-looking dog, sneaking out at the door, with his caudal appendage drawn close down into a discouraged curl between his legs.
Rev. William Bishop was one of the men whose stirring biography the Methodist Churches should not have been permitted to lose. We sometimes feel almost indignant at the last preceding generation of Methodist
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itinerants, who might have gathered the materials, acces- sible until within the last quarter of a century, out of which the most thrilling histories might have been con- structed. As it is, alas! the lives and doings of these heroes of Peninsular Methodism are now so dim and distant as to present only their shadowy outlines.
"Billy" Bishop, as he was familiarly called, was somewhat celebrated for his expertness in "cracking a joke." The author is indebted to the venerable John Tucker, of Dover, Delaware, for the following incidents, which he heard from the lips of the veritable Billy himself :
On a certain quarterly meeting occasion, Mr. Bishop, with other ministers and a number of the laity, enjoyed the hospitality of a Mrs. Coombe, in Camden, Delaware. This lady also had a reputation for genial humor and pleasant repartee. Mr. Bishop, being a stranger and not suspecting an ambuscade, on passing his cup, asked Mrs. Coombe for "half a cup of coffee." "Excuse me, Bro. Bishop," replied the lady, "but this is my best china, and I prefer not to break my cups in half." The twinkle of the preacher's eye acknowledged the bon-mot, while an audible smile rippled all around the table. At the next meal, the gentle hostess said : "Bro. Bishop, take another cup of coffee." "Thank you, sister," replied he, "but you needn't trouble about getting another cup: the same cup will do-filled up again !"
At one time, after he became widowed, Mr. Bishop was in attendance at a General Conference in the city of
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Baltimore. He was understood to be the fortunate possessor of about $8,000-a neat little competency for a minister at that day; and there was some little interest among his brethren-and it was thought, indeed, among some of the sisters also-as to the matrimonial possi- bilities in Billy's case. He had been several times recommended to make the acquaintance of a certain " good looking" and well-to-do widow, residing in the city; and she had been bantered about Mr. Bishop. Finally, an interview was arranged. In company with several delegates, he was escorted by her guests to the widow's house and duly introduced. In the course of the evening, after a little promiscuous bantering on the part of the company in the way of pleasantry, the comely widow found occasion to speak of her business cares and responsibilities, in her relation as guardian to her children; remarking that the farm in Harford County was the property of her son Thomas; that another, in Baltimore County, belonged to John; and that the city property was the heritage of her daughter Lida. Billy Bishop's exclamation, in response, was decidedly more expressive than elegant or gallant :- "Umph! Take an old goose, and she picked !" It wasn't a match !
Many amusing scenes have transpired in the midst of circumstances of solemn import; and usually the ludi- crousness of an event is intensified by its untimeliness. When people most feel they oughtn't laugh, it is often most difficult to refrain. Two or three incidents from the unwritten history of Peninsula Methodism will
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illustrate the above philosophy. In a revival meeting at a country church on Princess Anne Circuit, Rev. William J. O'Niell called on a sincere, quiet brother to lead in prayer. At the end of a very brief petition, he added : "Lord, with these few remarks we close, and remain yours truly. Amen." The result can be imagined.
Rev. J- D-, a sedate member of the Phila- delphia Conference, was once stationed at Cambridge, Maryland. When the winter season came on, and the people could take time to let the Lord revive his work, an extra meeting was duly announced; and the reverend pastor took no little pains to prepare an initial sermon to inaugurate the campaign, that would tend to stir the Church into new life, and arouse the drowsy worldlings to a proper realization of their unhappy condition.
The auspicious Sunday night arrived. An immense congregation greeted the preacher, crowding the church to its utmost capacity. The sermon on " Awake thou that sleepest" was a decided success, and held the aud- ience enchained, except a little negro boy who had accompanied his mistress; and who, notwithstanding the stirring message of the preacher, had tucked himself into a corner of the gallery and gone fast asleep.
At the conclusion, the earnest minister poised himself for a rousing appeal to the spiritual sleepers of the assembly. With a voice clear and shrill as a blast from a silver trumpet, he called out the initial word of his text-" Awake!" The little "darkey" aforesaid, mis-
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taking the sharp call for the voice of his mistress, rubbing his eyes, lazily responded-"Ma'am." The unexpected shock brought on a general attack of merri- ment. Excited "risibles" refused utterly to yield to the philosophy of the "fitness of things." The discomfited preacher heroically struggled for a few moments with his facial contortions; and finally so far managed his curled-up and refractory mouth, as to be able to say, between spasms of snickering amusement : "We'll close-the serv-close the services-of the-the evening by singing the Benediction !"
The scene of the following protracted meeting incident was St. John's Church, on Annamessex circuit. Rev. Adam Wallace was presiding Elder, and was conducting the service for that evening, it being the occasion of his quarterly visitation. The church was minus an altar- rail, a movable bench being used instead for the accom- modation of penitents. On this occasion the said bench was near the stove, and was occupied by a notorious rowdy of the neighborhood, who was lounging thereon, apparently asleep; while near by, in the amen-corner, sat a good old sister absorbed in her pious meditations.
"Come!" said the eloquent Elder, as he pleaded with the unconverted, "Come any way, just as you are. Fall down before the Lord and seek salvation !" At this juncture, while two brethren were quietly removing the "mourner's bench" to its appropriate place before the pulpit, without disturbing the youth thereon lying, he lost his balance and rolled off sprawling on the floor.
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The noise and confusion of the fall arrested the attention of the meditative old sister before mentioned ; who, sup- posing a stricken penitent had come and fallen at the altar, lustily cried out: "Thank the Lord! There's one sinner on his back, anyhow !" Rising slowly and sullenly, with an expression of outraged indignation scowling from his features, he scornfully replied : "I ain't no sinner on his back !" As Uncle Haney Bradshaw was wont to say: "It was a feelin' sense time, in that manner and form;" and the solemnity of the service for that evening was effectually destroyed.
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