WESLEYAN HERITAGE LIBRARY Reference THE JOURNAL AND LETTERS OF FRANCIS ASBURY VOL. II “Follow peace with all men, and holiness, without which no man shall see the Lord” Heb 12:14 Spreading Scriptural Holiness to the World © 1998 Wesleyan Heritage Publications The Journal and Letters of FRANCIS ASBURY EDITORIAL BOARD Elmer T. Clark J. Manning Potts Jacob S. Payton Illustrator Erie Prior Maps by Lewis Akin Thoburn Lyon FRANCIS ASBURY, PROPHET OF THE LONG ROAD Portrait by Frank O. Salisbury, C.V.O., R.P.S., LL.D., D.F.A., in the World Methodist Building at Lake Junaluska, North Carolina, U.S.A. Frontispiece The Journal and Letters of FRANCIS ASBURY In Three Volumes VOLUME II The Journal 1794 to 1816 ELMER T. CLARK Editor-in-Chief J. MANNING POTTS JACOB S. PAYTON Published Jointly By EPWORTH PRESS ABINGDON PRESS London Nashville FIRST PUBLISHED IN 1958 PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN BY HAZELL WATSON AND VINEY LTD AYLESBURY AND SLOUGH 1794 Asbury at the Cokesbury School, on the Yadkin, in North Carolina CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE South Carolina Wednesday, January 1, 1794. We removed brother Bruce into a room without fire. We hastened the business of our conference as fast as we could. After sitting in a close room with a very large fire, I retired into the woods nearly an hour, and was seized with a severe chill, an inveterate cough and fever, with a sick stomach: with difficulty I sat in conference the following day; and I could get but little rest; brother Bruce's moving so frequently, and the brethren's talking, disturbed me. Sick as I was, I had to ordain four elders and six deacons; never did I perform with such a burden. I took a powerful emetic. I was attended by Doctor D——. I found I must go somewhere to get rest. The day was cloudy, and threatened snow; however, brother Reuben Ellis and myself made out to get seven miles to dear old brother Andrew Yeargan's house.[1] The next day came on a heavy fall of snow, which continued two days, and was from six to ten inches deep. I had to let some blood: I made use of flax seed, and afterward of betony tea,[2] both which were of use to me. I must be humbled before the Lord, and have great searching of heart. Monday, 13. Rode thirty miles, although the weather was damp and unpromising, and came to Herbert's store, on Broad River. I was so weak that my exercise and clothing almost overcame me. The next day we passed Connelly's Ferry; and got nothing for ourselves until we had ridden forty-six miles to Colonel Jacob Rumph's,[3] where we had everything, and were free and comfortable. Sunday, 19. Rode to Cypress,[4] where I could not rest without giving them a little sermon. Monday, 20. I reached the city of Charleston.[5] Here I began to rest: my cold grew better. Doctor Ramsey directed me to the use of laudanum, nitre and bark, after cleansing the stomach with an emetic. The kindness of sister Hughes was very great. I have written largely to the West, and declined visiting those parts this year. The American Alps, the deep snows and great rains, swimming the creeks and rivers, riding in the night, sleeping on the earthen floors, more or less of which I must experience, if I go to the Western country, might at this time cost me my life. I have only been able to preach four times in three weeks. I have had sweet peace at times since I have been here: the love of meetings (especially those for prayer); the increase of hearers; the attention of the people; my own better feelings; and the increasing hope of good that prevails among the preachers, lead me to think that "the needy shall not always be forgotten, nor the expectation of the poor fail." I have been pleased in reading Prince's Christian History, of about four hundred pages: it was a cordial to my soul in the time of my affliction. It is Methodism in all its parts. I have a great desire to reprint an abridgment of it, to show the apostolic children what their fathers were. I have read Gordon's History of the American Revolution: here we view the suffering straits of the American army; and, what is greatly interesting, General Washington's taking his farewell of his officers—what an affecting scene! I could not but feel through the whole of the description. What, then, was the sight! O how minds are made great with affliction and suffering! Poor Beverly Allen, who has been going from bad to worse these seven or eight years—speaking against me to preachers and people, and writing to Mr. Wesley and Doctor Coke, and being thereby the source of most of the mischief that has followed; and lastly, having been agent for Mr. ——, is now secured in jail for shooting Major Forsyth through the head. The Major was marshal for the federal court in Georgia, and was about to serve a writ upon Beverly Allen: the master-piece of all is, a petition is prepared, declaring him to have shown marks of insanity previous to his killing the Major! The poor Methodists also must unjustly be put to the rack on his account, although he has been expelled from amongst us these two years I have had my opinion of him these nine years; and gave Doctor Coke my thoughts of him before his ordination: I pity, I pray for him—that, if his life be given up to justice, his soul may yet be saved.[6] Friday, Feb. 14. I enjoy peace of mind, and am closely employed in reading my Bible; and a collection of sermons delivered at Berry Street, 1733, by Watts, Guyse, Jennings, Neal, Hubbard, and Price, containing upwards of five hundred pages. Sunday, 16. I preached in the morning on Phil. ii, 30, and in the evening again. I was tried in spirit: I had not more than one hundred white people to hear me. Brother Smith[7] and myself let loose; and according to custom they fled: they cannot, they will not, endure sound doctrine. Monday, 17. I was employed in reading and visiting. Tuesday, 18. I feel restless to move on, and my wish is to die in the field. I have had a time of deep dejection of spirits, affliction of body, loss of sleep, and trouble of soul. I have, in the course of my stay here, had frequent visits from the blacks; among whom I find some gracious souls. Wednesday, 19. I find this to be a barren place; I long to go to my work. When gloomy melancholy comes on, I find it best to think as little as may be about distressing subjects. Thursday, Friday, and Saturday, I visited sundry families. It seems as if a strange providence holds me here: I am sometimes afraid to eat, drink, or even to talk, unless it be of God and religion. I shall certainly feel a paradise when I go hence. I am not unemployed; yet I might be much better occupied for God and souls. Tuesday, 25. Last evening we had a love feast; and the poor Africans spoke livingly of the goodness of God. I am now preparing to leave this city, where I have experienced consolation, afflictions, tribulations, and labour. Friday, 28. I now leave Charleston, the seat of Satan, dissipation, and folly: ten months hereafter, with the permission of divine Providence, I expect to see it again. My horse proving unruly, and unwilling to take the boat to Hadrill's point, we changed our course, crossed at Clemon's ferry, and then came the road to Lenud's ferry:[8] we passed the plantations of the great, lying east and west; their rice fields under water. We got no refreshment until we came to S——'s, thirty-four miles, except the little our horses got at the ferry. Saturday, March 1. We set out in great spirits, having sixteen miles to the ferry; where we were detained six hours. We hoped to have been in Georgetown by sunset. Now we thought of travelling until midnight: we came to Cedar Creek, which we found in a bad state. We stayed at the ferry; being persuaded we could not reach Georgetown time enough for meeting. Sabbath morning. We directed our course westward, and came along, drooping and solitary, to Murray's ferry,[9] about twenty-five miles. We rode up to a large house, and were asked in to drink brandy: three men and two women appeared to be set in to drink the pure stuff, glass after glass; we were glad to retreat. There came on a storm of rain, with thunder and lightning. I was unwilling to go to ——, expecting the same kind of Sabbath devotion there. We travelled a most dreadful road to Black River, and had plenty of water above and below us. After riding fifteen miles, we came to the widow Bowman's,[10] where we got a shelter; still we had our fears: there is such a quantity of water in the swamp and low lands, that our feet are kept very uncomfortable, and some places are impassable. Isaac Smith, in all these difficulties and trials of swamps, colds, rains, and starvation, was my faithful companion. After riding twenty-seven miles without eating, how good were the potatoes and fried gammon![11] We then had only ten miles to brother Rembert's; where we arrived about seven o'clock.