been laid under obligations never to be forgotten, but also saved from the necessity of drawing on the Book-Fund. If at any time I have borne some part of such expense, it was either of choice, or arose out of the necessity of the case. And such has been the kindness of a generous people that all my temporal wants, hitherto, have been more than supplied. Therefore, I neither expected nor desired remuneration, and consequently did not draw for the one hundred dollars. But the same kindness, no doubt, which prompted the General Conference to form the resolution, moved the Book-Agents, or some other person, to send one hundred dollars, which I received by mail, at six or eight hundred miles distance from NewYork. Having never drawn on the Agents, and not needing the money, I hesitated whether to return it, or to apply it to some benevolent purpose. Through fear of seeming to reject kindness, and a desire to do good, the latter prevailed, and one half of it was applied to the Missionary Society of the Methodist Episcopal Church, and the other divided between Missionary Societies, and the proper objects embraced in the appropriation of the profits of the Book-Fund. If I erred in this course, it was from the persuasion that the money was applied conformably to the principles and design of the General Conference. As the abundant liberality of my friends had rendered it unnecessary for me to avail myself of the generous provision of the Conference; in order to prevent the recurrence of the same things, to the best of my recollection, I requested one of the BookAgents to make no further remittance to me, without my order. Such an order has never been drawn by me, and the above one hundred dollars, is all I have ever received on account of the special provision of the General Conference. In my opinion such communications should never have been admitted into the Magazine.* Therefore, to be under the neces * With due deference to the judgment of the author of this letter, we cannot but dissent from him in opinion. The Magazine, it has been distinctly announced, is to be a defender of the doctrines and character of the Church, especially when assailed by its enemies; and we know not what could more materially injure its character in the public estimation than to represent its ministers as guilty of peculation in managing the fiscal concerns of the Church, with a view to aggrandize themselves at the people's expense. In repelling this assault, it was necessary to enter into explanations, concerning the appropriation of the Funds of the Church, which, to do it fairly, impelled us to mention the authorized allowance to the bishops. Neither was this done without counsel. We were, indeed, solicited to contradict these unfounded charges, by members of the BookCommittee, and others, as a duty we owed to the readers of our Magazine; and after duly weighing all the circumstances of the case, we are more and more convinced of the necessity and propriety of what we did. We regret, indeed, that we have wounded, unintentionally, the feelings of our venerable bishop, by expressing ourselves incautiously upon this subject. Had the slander been confined to the neighbourhood whence it originated, it should have been treated with that neglect which it deserved; but when found taking the rounds in the public prints, correction was considered an imperious duty. EDITOR sity of correcting an error in this way, especially as circumstances seem to require such a developement of the appropriation of the money, as in ordinary cases would appear ostentatious, is a matter of deep regret. But your publication is calculated to affect me too seriously to be passed over in silence; and too widely circulated to be corrected in any other way than through the same medium. I am, therefore, reduced to the painful alternative of submitting to the injurious conclusions which may be drawn from an erroneous statement, or of requesting you to publish this communication in the Magazine. After mature deliberation, I have chosen the latter; and will thank you to give it a place in your next number. With much respect, I remain yours affectionately, Remarks upon the early settlements of the Western Country, with some account of its soil, climate, and productions. DEAR SIRS, To the Editors of the Methodist Magazine. Falls of the Great Wabashi, Edwards county, state of Illinois, January 1, 1823. THEOPHILUS ARMINIUS feels always disposed to write when the "birds begin to sing." But in the gloom of this dreary winter, oppressed and afflicted in both body and mind, it is not probable, although possessed of interesting matter, that he will again communicate for some time a continuation of "Short Sketches of revivals of religion." He does not know whether the subject is really interesting to the readers of your very excellent Magazine, though it is peculiarly so to himself. Situated as he is in the "remote regions of the west;" having been reared from infancy in the wild woods of Kentucky, an early adventurer to Ohio; conversant with the heroes of the forests; long listened to the rehearsal of the tens of thousands of the most interesting occurrences that ever attended the settlement of any country, having those narratives deeply impressed upon his mind witnessed the unparalleled growth and settlement of this Western Empire; acquainted with its progress generally, and the still more interesting subject, the progress of the Gospel. Having been conversant with the early situation of the little scattered groupes, strewed here and there through this country, of the followers of the KING OF SAINTS, despised, rejected, persecuted and oppressed: Seen them rise amidst every opposition and now overspreading these regions: Been an eye witness to some of the most blessed revivals of religion, though himself was brought in "as one born out of due time:" Stimulated by the example of some of the most pious, devoted, useful and amiable ministers that ever appeared in any age or country; beheld them as wonderful champions for truth; seen them living and dying in the cause of God-they are gone, many of them already gone, and another generation has risen up to succeed them. These circumstances thrill through his soul, and while he casts his eyes over this vast theatre of the New Western World, he feels a peculiar delight in his attempt to snatch from sinking into oblivion, some of those interesting occurrences, that must very soon be lost from the recollection of men; and in doing this he feels a degree of satisfaction that is indescribable, and while recording them, has felt blessings from Heaven breaking in upon his own soul. But here he must stop and pause! Some of his friends encourage him to proceed, others again seem disposed, as they say, to "throw water upon his fire!" Some are disposed to give sketches of their ministerial labours; some again are dead and gone, and every opportunity is now passed of procuring such; others again from "Pride or humility," as they say, they don't know which, are disposed to remain in profound silence: Some are not disposed to communicate from their opinion, perhaps of the unworthiness of the Scribe, are therefore stubbornly indifferent: Such, however, is the disposition of the human heart, that even among good men, we may expect to meet with opposition, if we design to project any laudable plan, be it what it may. Add to this, that the writer has been one of those that has been cumbered and "careful and troubled about many things. Full of enterprize, he has long struggled with many difficulties. Successful in most of his concerns, he had long marked the course of events of both the older and these Western settlements. He could but observe the result of a good or a bad impulse given to any settlement, village, town or city; how long it lasted and how difficult it was to correct a bad one already given, and when even reformed by the benign influence of the religion of the blessed Jesus, how apt to relapse, and "the last state (of such a place) becomes worse than the first." Men may say what they will, but unless the principle be implanted by education, it seldom happens, that religion has the happy effect of thoroughly forming the inward and outward man. It will change the heart, but unless correct principles have been impressed early upon the mind, it seldom happens that we make other than very staggering Christians. Conscious of the importance of this subject, he was disposed, at least, to try an experiment; and he, with his friends, associated for that purpose, and have their new settlement in successful operation. Having explored the country, they fixed upon a place whence this is written; an agreeable and interesting impulse was first given, but alas! most of those who first entered into its views, dreamed dreams. Some were intimidated because in its progress great difficulties were first to be encountered; some from motives of gain, no doubt, entered into it with the hope of finding a South-Sea vision, or another Mississippi scheme, and thus have ever hung as burdens to its progress. The site is at the junction of two large and beautiful rivers, on the west side of the largest river of the two (the Wabash by far the most beautiful stream in the west,) White river connecting two large streams, its east and west branches meandering through nearly all the interior of Indiana, unites them about thirty miles before it falls into the Wabash, and within three quarters of a mile below its mouth another considerable stream. Patoka falls into the Wabash also, and a lovely island is formed immediately below the mouth of the last mentioned river. For several miles, commencing at the junction of the two great rivers, are falls or rapids, well calculated for water works. The country abounds in stone, coal, iron ore, &c. The land is exceedingly rich. The river bottoms are well timbered, and the finest without exception in the west: superior in my opinion, though not so extensive as those of the Mississippi, and are also more healthy, as also the eastern side of the state is generally supposed to be. About two, three and four miles back from the river, the heavy timber begins to disappear; and the country then opens into beautiful prairies. The face of the country is generally rolling, rising and falling in the most agreeable manner to the sight of the eye; no breaks or hollows, but rising in lovely landscapes in swells and undulations the most ravishing to the sight, gives such a view of those prairies that it would be a vain attempt for the most experienced artist to sketch them; the hand of nature has here outdone all the works of art. The scenery is still more pleasing, as those prairies are interspersed with winding groves of timber, resembling the shores of a large lake that surrounds the borders of the prairies. The deer and elk, (the buffaloe having all disappeard). when startled, run until they seem to pass into a distant cloud. The fowls are generally peculiar to this new creation (if I may call it so) both large and small. I have been awakened from my repose, when encamped under a grove, at day-break, by the sound of their delightful voices vibrating through the air, as though it echoed against the ground on which they also reposed,-many of them have wings suitable for short flights only. A storm in the spring of 1818, blew a vast number of different species of these beautiful feathered songsters as far as the state of Ohio, (three or four hundred miles distant) where they perished with cold and hunger, and thousands of them were blown into the river and drowned. In spring, summer, and autumn, the landscape view of those prairies produce very pleasing sensations. The pious or contemplative mind is at once raised into a delightful ecstacy. But in the dead of winter they appear very gloomy. How vast the change! VOL. VI 29 "So fades the lovely blooming flow'r, My neighbour and European emigrant (Birkbeck) in his brief sketch of Illinois, would be considered to have given an exag gerated description of the country by a winter's visitor of it. These prairies are formed by repeated burnings, annually. For ages past, the rich soil has been formed by the decomposition of the vast quantities of vegetable matter yearly spread over it; and the moisture of the earth in the prairies has entirely eradicated every vestige of the roots of the forest. Here it is, that there is every season a warfare kept up between the fires and the forest. The earth is disposed to restore her woody covering and the fires to destroy it. These fires, until stopped by the country's becoming populated and beaten down by stock, are tremendously terrific! The Indians availed themselves of it against invading armies last war. To see sheets of fire as high as houses rolling and tumbling before winds, sometimes of its own creating, is truly awful: there is no way to escape, but to fire before it and stand in the open burned space, or to meet the flames and let them pass over the head, and then rush through them. Even in this attempt many have been injured and some lost their lives. The vast quantities of grass afford abundantly sufficient supplies of combustible matter for the fires to prey upon; the timbered lands afford generally protection to settlers, until the grassy lands are subdued by the flocks and herds; but these fires though annual, are only dangerous in unusually dry seasons. But the places called Barrens* where the ground is too dry to produce a speedy decay of the roots of the trees burnt down, we find that the stumps spread and extend over the surface of the ground to a considerable size; and when the fires cease, the ground is soon covered by a thick and bushy growth of young trees; their rapid growth from such fast roots below, is truly astonishing. I could write a treatise on these subjects, but must confine myself to the limits of a letter. *Barrens-a thinly scattered open wood. THE PRACTICAL HEARER. A poor woman in the country went to hear a sermon, wherein, among other evil practices, the use of dishonest weights and measures was exposed. With this discourse she was much affected. The next day, when the minister, according to his custom, went among his hearers, and called upon the woman, he took occasion to ask her what she remembered of his sermon. The poor woman complained much of her bad memory, and said she had forgotten almost all that he delivered. But one thing,' said she, 'I remembered; I remembered to burn my bushel.A doer of the word cannot be a forgetful hearer. 1 |