Methodism in Earnest

James Caughey

But notwithstanding his call from above, Mr. Caughey omitted no personal attention to his temporal affairs that was necessary to enable him to stand before the world in the aspect of an honest man. Before starting for Halifax, we are pleased to hear him saying to a correspondent, “My temporal affairs are now nearly all settled, so that I do not owe a single shilling on the continent of America. Help me to praise God, for this mercy also.” Praiseworthy consideration! How judicious was this care for shillings! It was wise in this devoted labourer, when engaging in his lofty and ennobling mission, to keep himself unspotted, even from a shilling debt, before a world whose delight it is to gainsay and to injure the children of God.

The letters, from which this chapter is compiled, were written from Halifax during the month of July 1841. He says:

I have travelled many hundreds of miles since I last wrote to you from St. John’s, the 21st of last April. I have visited the cities of New York, Albany, and Troy. The Lord gave me an opportunity of preaching in several towns on my route, so that I hope some good was done. I spent Sabbath, the 23d of May, in Whitehall, N. Y., (where I received the call to visit Europe,) and preached three times on that day. I had a most refreshing time among the dear souls who were converted to God when I was stationed here. They had lost none of their affection.

On Monday, the 24th, I visited the retired spot where God allowed me to plead, Exodus xxxiv. 5-7, on the 11th of July 1839. After that memorable period, I always named it Providence Path; and so noted it in my private journal. Here I had a gracious season alone, and dedicated body, soul, and spirit to God, who enabled me to plead, with great sweetness and power, that the blessing of the Holy Ghost might attend my labours in distant lands. Although nearly two years had fled into eternity since I prevailed with God to unfold his designs, the impression to cross the Atlantic remained as strong as ever. I left the hallowed ground rejoicing in God. It is possible I may see it no more; yet it was impressed upon my mind that I should be brought back again to praise him in that place for his abounding mercies.

About one o’clock I left Whitehall, in the steamer Whitehall, Captain Lyon, for Burlington, Vt., where I arrived in the evening. My soul was deeply engaged in prayer all the day, many times repeating, as I walked the deck: -

“Till glad I lay this body down,
Thy servant, Lord, attend,
And O, my life of mercies crown
With a triumphant end!”

On the evening of the 28th of May I bade farewell to my Burlington friends. Several of them accompanied me on board the steamer. We had a very solemn time in parting. Some thought they should see my face no more: others had confidence that I should be spared to return, whether they should live to see me or not. As to my own feelings, they were too deep and various for utterance. The friends went ashore, and our steamer, like an arrow, darted forward on that fine expanse of water. I walked the deck till midnight engaged in prayer; and, after taking a last look at the United States, retired to my berth. Next morning I landed at St. John’s. I was rejoiced to find they had raised the chapel subscription to seventeen hundred dollars.

I spent a few days in Montreal, and then sailed for Quebec, where I arrived on the 5th of June; I spent about twenty-four days in that city. It was not my intention to stay so long, but conscientious scruples detained me. The Unicorn steamer was announced to sail on Sabbath, the 13th June. This involved my conscience. I could not see it to be right for me to sail on the Sabbath; and yet I could not feel resigned to postpone my departure till the return of the vessel in two weeks. I was greatly perplexed. The eyes of thousands were upon me; and if my own conscience had been satisfied, I durst not give that Sabbath-breaking city a bad example. On conversing with the captain, and finding him immovable, I concluded to wait two weeks; when he would sail positively on a week-day. My mind had been much cast down for a few days, with many sore exercises and buffetings from the devil; but shortly after I gave my decision, the gloom was totally dispersed, and peace and joy overspread my soul. Since then my peace has been like a river. Isaiah xlviii. 18.

The Quebec friends were greatly rejoiced when they learned I would spend a couple of weeks with them. The chapel was opened for preaching every night, and the power of God was displayed among his people. Sinners were converted to God daily, and the young converts of last winter were greatly strengthened. Never shall I forget the kindness of that dear people; every thing was done that human beings could do to render my stay pleasant to myself. I had several delightful excursions, sometimes with the most agreeable company, often on horseback alone.

As you intend to visit Quebec, you must not fail to see the Falls of Montmorency; they are only a few miles from the city. The ride is charming, and the Falls will afford you some sublime sensations. You will not be overwhelmed with those indescribable emotions, which you felt when gazing upon the terrific majesty and overpowering grandeur of Niagara; but you will be conscious of feelings quite as gracious and pleasurable. Here you will see a river of considerable magnitude, gathered into a comparatively narrow channel, moving on under a placid surface towards a cataract of two hundred and forty-six feet perpendicular! Be cautious!

“ Swift shrinking back,
I check my steps and view the broken scene.
Smooth to the shelving banks a copious flood
Rolls fair and placid; where collected all,
In one impetuous torrent, down the steep
It thundering shoots, and shakes the country round.
At first an azure sheet, it rushes broad;
Then whitening by degrees, as prone it falls;
And from the loud resounding rocks below,
Dashed in a cloud of foam, it sends aloft
A hoary mist, and forms a ceaseless shower.
Nor can the tortured waves here find repose;
But raging still, amid the shaggy rocks,
Now flashing o’er the scattered fragments, now
Aslant the hollowed channel rapid darts;
And falling fast from gradual slope to slope,
With wild infracted course, and lessened roar,
It gains a safer bed,”

And steals away into the bosom of the majestic St. Lawrence. I know you love the grand and beautiful in nature, and I am sure you will retire from it, saying with your friend, -

“My full heart expanded, grew warm, and adored.”

It is not likely you will visit Quebec in the winter; but if you should, Montmorency is even then more grand than at this season of the year. You can then walk on the ice below the falls, very close to the descending mass of waters. Then it is you may see it with an accompaniment, which it never has in the summer, an immense ice-cone, formed by the spray, one or two hundred feet in circumference, standing in the centre of the basin, and ascending as if to overlook the surface of the river above the falls. I thought it a grand sight when I was here in the winter of 1835.

If you ascend the river a short distance you will light upon a place well worth seeing, the Natural Steps. These are formed on a large scale by successive layers of shelving rocks, and modified into a great variety of figures by the action of the waters in times of heavy freshets. Here, in company with a gentleman from the city, I spent an hour very agreeably; and, kneeling upon one of the steps, we had a most delightful time in prayer.

The celebrated Plains of Abraham must not escape your attention. These lie south and west of the city. Here the famous battle was fought between the English, under General Wolfe, and the French, commanded by General Montcalm, September 13th, 1759. A broken column of black marble marks the place where the English commander died. It bears this inscription: -

“Here died Wolfe, victorious.”

Quebec was then surrendered to the English, who have held peaceable possession of it since, with the exception of an ineffectual effort during the first war between England and the United States. Here your General Montgomery was killed, in a desperate struggle to scale the walls. The place where he fell was pointed out to me below Prescott Gate. Any intelligent person can show you the place where the English army ascended from the brink of the St. Lawrence, on the night previous to the battle. All visitors stand amazed when they look at this precipice, not less than two hundred feet high from the river, and reflect that the cannon and munitions of war, necessary for a great battle, were dragged up these steeps in one short night, almost in the very teeth of an enemy; and that these wearied soldiers should have gained a complete victory the next day over a vigorous and powerful army.

Quebec is built upon a lofty promontory, formed by the St. Lawrence and river St. Charles. The city looks best from the river St. Lawrence. You are aware this is the only regularly fortified city on the continent of America. The walls are nearly three miles in circuit, of great thickness, from twenty to thirty feet high, surrounded by deep ditches of great width, and surmounted by batteries at regular distances. Every where, outside the walls, the cannon, like large black dogs, are peeping from their threatening ramparts. The city is entered by four or five massive gates of plain architecture. The citadel crowns the whole. It is built upon the highest part of the promontory, called Cape Diamond, and is considered impregnable. The walls are forty feet thick, with a ditch fifty feet wide. The whole includes between five and six acres. There it stands in dark magnificence; its lofty ramparts frowning down upon the river and lower town, from the dizzy height of four hundred feet. It has been well called the Gibraltar of America.

Time will not allow me to describe the buildings, some of which are elegant in design, and generally built of stone. A few days before I left, I visited the Marine Hospital, an excellent institution, and well ordered. The situation, however, is too low. if found therein one hundred and fifty patients, belonging to different nations; one dear sailor boy, fourteen years of ago, deeply affected me; in the dead hour of the night, in the Gulf of St. Lawrence, he had been ordered aloft, and, missing his hold, he fell from the rigging of a large ship, struck on the deck, and fractured his thigh in three places; poor boy, how I did feel for him! Lockjaw had commenced, but he was able to speak a little; he was quite sensible, and very intelligent. His little heart was drawn out in prayer for mercy, while I was pouring out my soul to God for him. He told me he was born in England, that his parents lived there, and that he had had a religious education. His lips the next day were closed forever; and he obtained a lonely grave on a foreign shore, without a relation to drop a tear over his little coffin, or to raise a stone to his memory.

I am sorry I did not learn his name, as I may possibly visit the place where his parents reside. It would be a great comfort for them to know that their lovely child died praying to the God of his fathers, and that strangers were kind to him; that his tears were not unnoticed, nor his dying groans unheeded; that the sympathies of heaven and earth encircled him; that, while angel bands were conveying his wondering soul to heaven, stranger hands were decently attiring his unconscious body for the grave in which they laid him.

A few days before I sailed from Quebec, I crossed the river to Point Levy, and spent a few hours very pleasantly with Mr. Johnson. We had a charming ride in his carriage. The scenery is very beautiful; and the harbour, shipping, city, citadel, and adjoining country are seen to great advantage from that side of the river. We visited a party of Indians who were encamped on the sand by the side of the St. Lawrence, some of whom we found busily employed in making very nice baskets of the bark of trees. One old squaw was asleep by the side of her husband, while he was engaged in preparing materials; another aged Indian was slumbering by the door of his wigwam. They received us kindly, and were quite willing to talk about the Great Spirit.

A child lay stretched on the burning sand, panting under the intense heat of a scorching sun. We inquired why they permitted the child to sleep there. They replied, “It is sick.” Perhaps their Indian medicine required such an exposure. Their wigwams were made of the bark of trees; and altogether there was the appearance of much poverty and degradation.

As the heavens became suddenly darkened with clouds we hurried back, but had to quicken our pace, as the big drops of the coming deluge began to thicken around us. No sooner had we got into the house than the storm came down in fury. I had now an opportunity of seeing, for the first time, a Canadian thunderstorm. Nature, from a perfect calm, was thrown into a tremendous uproar. Tempest rolled on tempest. The clouds in black sheets seemed flying to either pole. The bursts of thunder were appalling. Waves of fire rolled across the sky. The peals succeeded each other with fearful rapidity. The earth trembled. The heavens resembled the ocean in a storm, billow rolling on billow, broken here and there into fragments of fire. Although we could say,-

“This awful God is ours!
Our father and our love,”-

Yet it required a full conviction of God as reconciled in Christ, to keep our minds calm amidst these contending elements. We were in a state of mind fully to appreciate the sentiments of one who said, “What speaks the thunder in its cry through heaven’s clouded palaces? There is one God. And when the fierce tempest has lifted the billows to mingle with the tumult of the heavens, what voice is it that rises higher than their loudest outcry? There is one God. What is the voice of those tall pine trees and time-defying oaks, royally waving their hands on high as they battle with the tempest, till the hurricane bends them to sweep the ground they have so long shadowed? There is one God. Is not heaven’s artillery ringing it through the air, while the red lightnings are writing it on the troubled sky in letters of flame, there is one God.” We all said in our hearts, “There is one God.” We did indeed stand in awe of him, as a God of majesty and power; but we thought of Jesus Christ, and saw there the majesty of love. This we could not doubt. Jesus was precious, very precious. But had not the character of God been unfolded in Christ Jesus out Lord, who took upon him our nature, and by his miracles, invitations and tears, his life, his sufferings, and his death, proclaimed what otherwise we never could have known, the love of God to us men and for us sinners, we might indeed have believed in his existence, but we should have trembled before his dreadful presence, and have been terrified by the manifested power of the invisible God. At the end of an hour the storm came to a crisis, the raging winds subsided, and the electric fires were extinguished with torrents of rain.

Soon after the rain ceased, and we had a calm and beautiful evening. A few friends put me across the harbour in a sail?boat. As we glided over slowly, the citadel and city, with the immense forest of shipping, appeared to great advantage. I went straight to the chapel, and entered into a gracious prayer meeting. The Lord was present, and several poor sinners were converted to God. Returning home my soul was very happy, musing most feelingly on the language of one of our poets: ?

“How sweet at such a time as this to moralize,
And think how soon the storm of life
Shall pass, and leave this frail and earth?born
Part to seek a shelter in the grave’s sweet
Solitude; and this imprisoned spirit,
Thus set free, to plume her wings, and
Soar aloft, to gaze upon the universe; and
When her circuit’s done, to fold her weary
Wings fast by the foot of God’s eternal throne.”

You will be pleased to know, that in my voyage to this city, I had the agreeable company of two Wesleyan clergymen from Quebec, the Rev. Matthew Richey, A. M., and the Rev. Ephraim Evans, missionaries from Upper Canada, on their way to England. The particulars of this voyage I must defer till another time; but, before I conclude, I ought to state the reason why I am not now on the broad Atlantic; as silence on this point might cause you some uneasiness. When I arrived in this city the Columbia steamship was alongside the quay, with her full compliment of passengers. We went aboard and found the crew cleating out the forecastle for the convenience of additional passengers. The agent offered us our passage for one hundred dollars each, instead of one hundred and twenty-five. I considered the matter over, and knowing that I should suffer enough by sea sickness in to best part of the ship, I recoiled from the prospect of an augmentation of it in such accommodations; so I refused to proceed, saying, I would wait two weeks for the next steamer. My clerical friends said they could not do so, as they had business of importance at the English Conference. It was quite easy to see from our looks, that we had learned a lesson now, which ought to have been known weeks before, that we should have either sailed from Boston, or have had our berths engaged there, if we intended to go aboard at Halifax. Although several hundreds of miles nearer England than at Boston, they demanded to same fare for passage.

The vessel is gone, and here I am in a strange city. My soul is very happy in God. Sweet peace and a glow of divine love reign throughout my soul. Glory be to God in the highest!

“Within his circling power I stand;
On every side I find his hand,
Awake, asleep, at home, abroad,
I am surrounded still with God.”

On to 29th of June, about noon, I bade adieu to Quebec. During my stay there, I preached nineteen sermons, and delivered two temperance lectures. About twenty persons were converted to God. A large number of kind friends accompanied me to the steamer, each viewing with the other in manifestations of Christian love. My heart was deeply affected. Many were the tokens of their friendship. I thought of Acts xxviii.10. It was so in this case. Not that I needed any thing; their kindness last winter, together with that of the Montreal friends, had anticipated my wants for some time to come. It seems, however, they were not yet satisfied. A few moments before the Unicorn started from the dock, a person came aboard and put a letter into my hand, and went ashore. My tearful eyes were fixed upon my precious friends on the wharves as long as I could see them. It is impossible to express my feelings. I restrained them as long as I could, but when Quebec and those I loved had disappeared.

After my emotions were subsided, I opened the letter, and, lo! A check on a bank in London for more than sufficient to pay my entire expenses from Quebec to England. The accompanying letter informed me that the gift had originated with a few ladies, followers of our Lord Jesus Christ. I cannot withhold from you a copy of a note, which I found folded in the check. It is from a precious servant of Christ, one who is an honour to her sex, and an ornament to the church of God in that city. Her kind husband and herself have ever shown toward me the affection of parents, and in all my visits to Quebec their hospitable house has been my happy home. May the Holy Ghost over bless them and their interesting family!

“DEAR BROTHER CAUGHEY: This is but a small mark of our regard for yourself, and love for our adorable Jesus. May God add his richest blessing! Perhaps in some leisure moment you may find time to look at this list, and here you will see the names of those whose hearts the love of Jesus has moulded to beat in unison with your own; and who feel a sweet confidence, that if we meet no more on earth, we shall meet around the eternal throne.
“Your obliged and attached sister in Christ,
“MARY M’LEOD”

Our beautiful steamer dashed down the St Lawrence in noble style. The ministers I mentioned in my last wore most agreeable companions. We had, indeed,

“The feast of reason and to flow of soul”
As our vessel flew along the waters, her white canvas wings filled with the propitious breeze, that delightful verse rolled many times over my mind with the greatest sweetness

“Press forward, press forward,
The prize is in view;
A crown of bright glory,
Is waiting for you.”

Thirty-four hours brought us to Gaspe, four hundred miles from Quebec. On the evening of the 30th of June, Mr. Richey preached us an excellent sermon. We had about thirty passengers aboard, and they were very attentive to the word.

The St. Lawrence is a beautiful river. From to east end of Lake Ontario, to the Gulf of St. Lawrence in the Atlantic, is seven hundred miles, which is considered, I believe, the length of this river; but the whole extent of water communication, by the great lakes and this river, cannot be less than two thousand miles. Besides, it is not only the outlet to that great chain of western lakes I have referred to, it also receives the waters of Lake Champlain, the Ottawa, or Grand River, and a great variety of tributary streams. The scenery from Quebec to Gaspe is as diversified and picturesque as you could well imagine. From Quebec, one hundred miles, we had almost a continuous chain of little Canadian houses, with here and there a small village, and the spire of a church “pointing like a silent finger into heaven.” When these are past, all is one vast scene of desolation. Forests, rocks, precipices, and mountains, arise in awful and singular profusion. On approaching the Gulf, the grandeur and exceeding boldness of the widely separated shores are quite befitting the mouth of such a mighty river. The scene must be appalling in the depth of winter. We found ourselves in the Gulf on the morning of July the 1st, and were out of sight of land during several hours. The weather was very fine, and scarcely a ripple ruffled that vast expanse of waters. What a contrast between its then placid and silvery bosom, and the terrific uproar observable here late in the autumn or early in the spring!

Many a fine vessel has been engulfed here; and the bones of vast multitudes line the shores of this dangerous region. Only a few weeks since, the brig Minstrel, Captain Outerbridge, struck a dangerous reef in a heavy sea, went down, and nearly all on board perished. The vessel sailed from Limerick, Ireland, last April, with one hundred and forty-one passengers, emigrants intending to settle in Canada. It seems they had a tolerable passage; but when full of joy at hailing the land of their destination, and supposing all their hazards and hardships were over, in a moment the full cup of misery was placed in their hands, nor was it long ere they drank it to the very dregs. At four o’clock in the morning the vessel struck on the reef. The boats were launched and made fast to the fore chains; upwards of one hundred passengers embarked in them, but their doom was quickly sealed; the brig “heeled off” into deep water, and went down stern foremost, and so suddenly that the ropes of the boats could not be cast off, and all followed the ship to the bottom. Out of upwards of one hundred and fifty souls only eight remained to tell the sad tale. These eight had got into the gig, which was towing astern; providentially, the rope, which attached it to the vessel, broke when she went down, and they escaped from the yawning whirlpool.

But, ah! Their souls. What became of their souls? How sudden the transition from time to eternity! So many accountable beings forced, prepared or not, into the presence of the Judge of all. The captain, poor fellow! Behaved most gallantly during the awful scene, declaring that he would not leave the vessel till all his passengers were saved, and he perished with the rest.

There was another event happened farther up the river last November, which I used to great advantage at Quebec, at a temperance meeting. Two of Her Britannic Majesty’s soldiers went on board a vessel on business; one of them took with him a bottle of liquor; they got drunk, quarrelled, and, seizing each other in mortal conflict, carried their vengeance even unto the death. A gentleman came on deck just as they went overboard. They continued their murderous grapple in the water till they went down to rise no more alive. But the matter did not end here; the man who let that soldier have the liquor had a little harbour near his house, where he kept a small boat. One morning, a few weeks after the event, on going down to his boat, lo! the victim of his rum, the corpse of that unfortunate soldier lay beside his boat. It had floated seven miles from where the catastrophe happened. A physician told me the effects upon the man were awful. But to return to our voyage in the Gulf.

I felt grateful to God for the calm, not on account of our safety merely, but I did not want to have a foretaste of my sea-sickness before I had it in good earnest on the Atlantic. The passengers were in fine spirits; but at the dinner table, some appeared to think that such spirits could not last long unless recruited by the spirits beneath the cork. Your friend, being of quite a different opinion, was drawn into a temperance debate. The bottles, of course anti-temperance characters, were powerful advocates on the other side. After we had been contending some time, a gentleman from St. John’s, New Brunswick, observing a bloated son of the cups deliberately depriving the corks of all authority, and liberating most freely, for a moment, the spirits imprisoned there, then incarcerating them in as hopeless and objectionable a prison as ever poor alcohol had the misfortune to fall into, whispered in my ear, “How horrible a thing it is to see a man make such a steam engine of his stomach! “ This brought him out, and a few strokes like the following put an end to the debate: “I have been to Montreal, and also to Quebec. My business to these cities has called me frequently to the cab depots. When looking among them for a suitable conveyance, I saw poor horses whose hides presented a very wide contrast when compared with others. In a short time I could always tell what horse belonged to a temperance man, and what to an opposite character. When I saw a good looking horse, and in excellent order, I concluded, that belongs to a teetotaller; and when I saw a poor animal that the crows might be ready to fall upon, I exclaimed, The owner of this takes the oats himself; and nothing that occurred afterwards convinced me I had come to an erroneous conclusion.”

We had only been a few hours out of sight of land when we hailed Prince Edward’s Island, and the Island of Cape Breton. The latter island is separated from Nova Scotia by an arm of the sea, called the Gut of Canso. Both islands belong to Great Britain.

As we neared land, Prince Edward’s Island looked exceedingly beautiful. And now I saw what I had long desired to see, that strange optical illusion, “The Mirage.” It is formed by a state of the atmosphere so highly transparent that objects beneath are reflected as in a mirror. Prince Edward’s Island seemed like a scene of enchantment or some fairyland. The shores arose in bold and lofty grandeur twice their natural height; and every object more than doubled its size. The little white houses along the shores were transformed into high towers, and some of them looked like splendid waterfalls, equal to Montmorency or Niagara. The whole was a complete illusion. About ten miles eastward there was another on a parallel with the sun. It was formed by the action of the sun’s rays upon the water, the atmosphere being at the same time in a state of peculiar transparency. This was entirely a water illusion. The little waves appeared like a swamp of tall reeds, and again like an immense shoot of water falling over the side of a dam.

Prince Edward’s Island, I understand, contains a population of eighty thousand souls. Cape Breton was first discovered by the French, and called by them L’Isle Royale. It contains a population of thirty thousand, and sends two members to the provincial assembly of Nova Scotia. The island, as I said before, belongs to England; and her naval power in possession of it, easily commands the whole St. Lawrence.

We cast anchor in the harbour of Picton, about dark. It is a spacious basin formed by an arm of the Gulf of St. Lawrence, three miles from its mouth. The small boats were launched; and, after some difficulty with our baggage, we were safely put on shore. We made the voyage from Quebec to Pictou, six hundred and fifty miles, in fifty-seven hours. I was up next morning in good time in order to get a good view of the town. It has several churches, a court-house, and an academy. Population, eighteen thousand souls. Timber, coal, oil, and fish, form the principal articles of trade. The town is pleasantly situated. I understand there is a high probability that it will yet be the great emporium of the Gulf. The harbour is often frozen in the winter. The coaches were ready by noon, and, after bargaining as we could with men who seemed determined to make the most of us, we started for Halifax. The sky had a very threatening aspect, and the inside being quite full I was compelled to take my seat with the coachman, which, however, afforded me the advantage of seeing the country. Shortly the clouds dispersed and we had a lovely day. As our route lay many miles through an almost uninhabited desert I expected miserable roads; but, to my surprise, they were excellent, equal to any of your Macadamized roads in the United States.

Some parts of the country were very thinly settled; others a wilderness of trees and brushwood. There was nothing, throughout our whole journey across Nova Scotia, looked so dreary to me as the desolate and abandoned hovels of the new settlers. These mournful objects meet the eye in different directions, and fill the mind with a variety of melancholy sensations. Ah! There is a spot that pleased the inexperienced eye of a poor exile. There he built his hut of rough logs, and thither he conducted the partner of his joys and sorrows with the little ones. Yonder, with his brawny arm, he felled the lofty trees, and opened a path for the sunshine to the long neglected bosom of the earth. Here was his first cleared field, still full of black stumps; the marks of the spade and the plough, with the appearance of a scanty harvest, are still visible. But the winter came upon him, and the produce of his two small fields, which he had stored so carefully in a corner of his log house, was exhausted before the long and severe winter was over. He had no money to buy provisions, nor could he and his family by any means subsist till a coming harvest. A council was held, and he and his wife, with weeping eyes, bade farewell to their home in the wilderness, and they never had courage to make a second trial of the unkind soil.

We travelled all night, and, as morning opened upon us, the country greatly improved, and continued to do so to Halifax, where we arrived on the 3d instant, in the afternoon.

As I related the cause of my detention in my last, I need not repeat it here. The Columbia sailed the evening I arrived. As soon as the Wesleyan ministers knew I was in town they showed me every mark of kindness and respect. Here I met my old acquaintance, the Rev. William Crosseombe, who is Superintendent of the Halifax Circuit. He and his excellent wife were glad to see me. I found them both as ardent in the cause of Christ, and as deeply devoted to God as when I parted with them in 1835 at Montreal. Mr. C. introduced me to his colleague, the Rev. Charles de Wolfe. We had not been long together before I found in him a kindred spirit. We have had some delightful rides over the peninsula, and have taken the sweetest counsel on the things of God. He is a most intelligent person, and possesses talent, which will; I have no doubt, enable him, if spared, to take the first rank among the able ministers of the New Testament.
A home was provided for me at the house of Mr. Billings, a merchant of the city. He, with his two daughters, had just sailed for England; but Mrs. B., notwithstanding all her cares in the absence of her husband, seemed delighted to show me every kindness that hospitality could devise; dear woman, she was greatly troubled at a little incident which I know will amuse you. Mrs. B. was inquired of whether she could accommodate a stranger for a few days at her house; her mind being troubled about the departure of her husband and daughters for England, and worn down with the fatigue of getting them in readiness, she shrank from any additional trouble; so, casting a glance at the stranger, who by the way was far from presenting a tidy appearance, being in his travelling dress, unshaven, and covered with the dust of a long journey, she gave a positive refusal; and, indeed, I could not blame her. This was Saturday, and I obtained lodgings elsewhere.

Next day she was in her place in the house of God, and, hearing your friend in one of his happiest hours unfolding the wonders of redemption, she became sorely troubled, exclaiming to herself, “Oh! What is this that I have done? I have turned away from my house a servant of God, I have turned away from my door a minister of Jesus Christ.” The following morning she applied to Mr. Crosseombe, and insisted I should make her house my home. I did so, and in her I found a mother indeed.

I am now preaching every night to good congregations. A few have been converted to God. Will you believe me if I tell you that I visited the theatre while in Quebec, “The Theatre Royal,” and that I was on the stage and took part in what was going on; that I had authority to order the necessary scenery; that the theatre filled well, and that I received great applause for my performances? Well, so it was! But it was a temperance meeting. I chose a dark prison scene for the drapery behind the stage, and brought forward two prisoners to be tried before a judge and jury the names of the prisoners were the Devil and Alcohol. The chairman was the judge, and all who had not signed the total abstinence pledge were the jury, and the verdict against Alcohol was to be given by the act of signing the pledge. On commencing my address, I told them it was proper, before I preferred my charges against the prisoners, or called forth my witnesses, to apprise them that I never had had the honour of being a lawyer, nor had I ever had a law suit with man, woman, or child, all the days of my life; and, therefore, that they must not expect me to adorn my speech with legal phrases, nor cramp myself with the technicalities of that profession. We had a stirring time, and a noble verdict against Alcohol.

At the close of the meeting, Mr. Boot, of whom I think you have heard me speak when in **** and who is the father of the temperance society in Quebec, came forward on the stage, and taking from his breast his own splendid medal presented it to me, with a very neat speech, in the midst of tremendous applause.

I arose and returned thanks to Mr. B., and acknowledged the kindness of the audience, as well as I was capable; but, rosily, I had no command of my feelings; the thing was so unexpected and so unmerited that it almost unmanned me.

A few days ago, in company with Mr. De Wolfe, I visited the ruins of Prince William’s Lodge. (Afterwards William IV. of England.) It is situated about two and a half miles from the isthmus, on the western banks of Bedford Basin. Here, about thirty-five years ago, the young prince careered in all the dissipation which wealth and luxury could afford. The building has been rather elegant in its day, but, unlike the ancient castles of Europe, it is not likely long to perpetuate the memory of him whose name it bears. It is of wood, but neglect and the extreme rigour of the climate have conspired to render it a complete wreck, so much so that it is dangerous to enter it. The front is much torn away; this, and the hanging ceilings, tottering floors and empty chambers, exposed to the gaze of the visitor, render it an object of mournful desolation.

We wandered over the grounds, once laid out in handsome walks, but now totally neglected, and overgrown with grass and weeds. Here and there we espied little summer-houses painted white, and surrounded with

“The leafy labyrinth of embowering trees.”

But the fingers of desolation are busy upon these also, while human fingers have been writing epitaphs in a great variety of poetic fancies. Several of the verses pencilled upon the walls are not without merit, principally on the vanity of earthly things; all tending to confirm that important sentiment,

“He builds too low, who builds beneath the skies.”

We had not time to copy any of them; but, after glancing at the circular wine-house, standing lonely and decaying upon a jutting promontory on the brink of the basin, we came away mournfully reflecting, Here is the place where the prince revelled in all the luxuriance of English living; but he has gone to the grave, and a singular frown of desolation seems to hang over the scenes of his former pleasures.

God has a good, a lovely people in Halifax. Our meetings are delightful. There is a move among sinners, and one now and again converted to God. Here, as in most places, I met with a little prejudice against the adoption of extraordinary means for the revival of the work of God; but, I doubt not, could I remain here two or three months longer, all feeling of this kind would vanish, and we should have a warm and general co-operation from all who love Christ and the souls of men. But I cannot stay. To-morrow, if God permit, I shall sail for England. If his providence conduct me safely over the great deep, you may expect to hear of me from some part of that country.

The other night I gave a lecture on temperance. The audience was very large, and for a time appeared passionless; but when I got fairly into my subject, the cool-tempered Nova Scotian’s gave ample proof that they were capable of the highest excitement. Every man, woman, and child, seemed resolved they would never drink another drop of intoxicating liquor. Two dogs, which had followed their masters to the meeting, got full as much excited as any of the rationales, and gave their full-mouthed applause in their own way. So we had what Thomas describes so nervously,

“The clamour roars of men and boys and dogs”

Success to the Nova Scotians. If they are not as hearty as they should be in religion, I am glad to see them at least whole-souled on the temperance subject. Perhaps the following anecdote may not be unacceptable : -

Previous to the above meeting, a committee of the city temperance society waited upon me, and brought with them an old gentleman, who is a member of our church and a warm advocate of temperance, to introduce them. In the course of the conversation he said, “This morning I was sitting in the barber’s shop, and my large dog was waiting for me near the door. A man came in who is an habitual drunkard. He has made efforts several times at reformation, but has again and again fallen into his intemperate habits. This morning he was sober and thoughtful. I said to him,
“‘Do you see that dog?’
“‘Yes, I do,’ said he, ‘and a fine one he is too.’

“I then ordered the barber’s boy to hand me an empty glass, and I held it toward the dog’s mouth; but the poor animal sneaked away with his tail between his legs, as if he were ashamed, or was about to receive a severe chastisement. The poor fellow expressing some surprise, I asked him if he knew the reason why that dog sneaked away so. ‘No, Sir; why does he that?’

“‘Well, friend, that dog was once made drunk, and ever since, if a glass is held out to him thus, he acts just so. This is a Newfoundland dog. Several years ago some fishermen of that country made him drunk; and such is his hatred, on that account, toward any of the craft, that if a fisherman or fisherman’s boy should hold out the glass to him he would capsize him in a moment. He would bite him.’
“My hearer felt the reproof, and made his exit, not without receiving a lesson which I trust may be made a lasting blessing.”