INTRODUCTION.

Ir pleased God early to honour the writer of these pages with a place in the itinerant ranks of the Methodist Episcopal Church. His travels have been extensive, imposing a little hard service, and affording many interesting recollections. It has been his happiness to know many of the fathers who composed the first itinerant band, the legio tonans (thundering legion) of the American church. Infirmities have compelled him to retire from the field; his war-horse sleeps under the sod of a distant prairie, and his shattered trumpet gives but a feeble and occasional note. His saddle-bags remain They hang in his study before him while penning these lines; he can never part with them. They are fuller of reminiscences than ever they were of anything else, and if

God will, he wishes them placed under his head as a pillow when dying. To beguile the tedium of retirement and illness, he has written the following sketches, chiefly incidents of ministerial life. As they were written they were deposited in his old saddlebags until they accumulated to a considerable budget. They are now brought forth and presented to the reader: if they should afford him a lesson of warning or consolation, if they should produce one impression which shall survive the grave, the writer will be rewarded and thankful.

SKETCHES AND INCIDENTS.

OLD JEDDY—THERE'S REST AT HOME.

“There remaineth, therefore, a rest for the people ef God."-Paul.

I WAS preaching one Sunday afternoon in the door of a log cabin in the village of P—, to a congregation which filled the house and the front yard. When about half through the sermon, I observed an old negro riding alone toward the house. He dismounted, fastened his horse to a tree, and took his stand among the throng. The tears soon trickled down his furrowed cheeks, and it seemed impossible for him to repress some hearty exclamations. At the conclusion of the service he presented himself with profound reverence as my guide to Colonel M.'s, nineteen miles distant. It was my next appointment, and having just arrived on the circuit, I needed some guidance. I had already preached three times and rode twenty-three miles that day, and proposed to Jedediah, or Jeddy, as he was called, to tarry till the morning; but he replied that his master, the colonel,

insisted upon seeing me that evening. "Do go, massa," said Jeddy, "for no massa preacher be there for four months." I mounted to start, but Jeddy's horse was found too lame to return. The late rains had swept away a bridge on the only road, and rendered it necessary to take an indirect course through a boggy prairie, in order to cross the stream nearer its head. The horse had sprained one of his legs in a quicksand of this prairie, but Jeddy insisted on returning on foot.

We started into the prairie, but had not got far when I perceived that, owing to the wet state of the ground, we should not, at Jeddy's pace, reach our destination till the next morning. But, though slipping and tugging at almost every step, the good-hearted negro's large eyes gleamed with delight at the thought that he had induced the "massa preacher" to accompany him. I directed him to mount behind me: he seemed astonished at my kindness, and looked at me in silent amazement, but at last yielded to my request. By a little familiarity he became quite communicative. I led him into a recital of his whole history, particularly of his Christian experience. It was related with evident sincerity and deep emotion; the tears frequently flowed from the old man's eyes, and I could not

restrain my own; we wept together like children. Though jogging along in no very interesting plight, I felt that St. Paul's language was not inapplicable to us-God "hath raised us up together, and made us sit together in heavenly places in Christ Jesus."

When we had passed the first nine miles, the night was falling fast, and, what was infinitely worse, we began to falter among those patches of quicksand so frequent and so dangerous in some of the western prairies. After plunging into a number of these, Jeddy dismounted, to relieve the danger by lessening the burden of the horse. We had not gone twenty rods further before the poor animal sunk above his knees in the mire, and only extricated himself by the utmost violence. Though accustomed to greater difficulties, the fatigues of the day had so affected me that I began to show less courage than the poor slave who guided me. Dismounting, I leaned wearily against my horse, and expressed a disposition to return rather than risk the perils and fatigues of the remaining distance.

"No, massa,” replied Jeddy, "be not discouraged, there be rest at home for you."

There was something either in the tone of Jeddy's voice or my own mood of mind, which