night and by day, and subjected to frequent exposures in traveling from one distant appointment to another, he was attacked with inflammation of the lungs. When his disease assumed such a form as to disqualify him from preaching, he was at the house of a Mr. Mitchell, where all the attention that could be shown him was paid by stranger hands. But all efforts were unavailing, and he rapidly declined, till it was evident to all that death was near, and he would never preach again. On one occasion his symptoms were of such a nature as to induce those who were present to believe that he was dying, and it seemed, after a short struggle, that his breath had ceased, and he was gone; but in a short time he revived again, and said to his friends, "What hath brought me back to earth again? I have been on the very suburbs of heaven and glory." It seemed as if his spirit had been trying its wings for the mystic but glorious flight, and had returned for some purpose. Shortly after this brief trance his father came, and, embracing him in his arms, he said, "O father, I love you; but I have a Father in heaven whom I love more, and I shall soon be with him in glory. My body will soon be consigned to the grave; but my soul will put on immortality and eternal life." His countenance, always winning and attractive, now beamed with an unearthly brightness, and, like the glories of the setting sun, throwing back, on its departure, the radiance of the better land on which it is rising, so his spirit seemed to reflect the radiance of heaven. His work was done for earth, his commission had expired, and death was waiting to sound his release. With a smile upon his lips, he bade his father and friends a last adieu, and soared to companionship with angels and God. Thus fell the youthful herald of the cross, at his post, in the distant wilds of Missouri.

CHAPTER XXVI.

WILLIAM YOUNG.

THE subject of our present narrative was the brother of the Rev. David Young, a short sketch of whose life the reader may find in the "Autobiography." William was a native of Virginia, born in Washington county, on the 16th day of May, 1786. In the year 1805, when he was in the nineteenth year of his age, he was awakened to a sense of his lost condition, convinced of the need of a Savior, and, through the instrumentality of Methodist preaching, he was happily converted to God. Two years after this he felt it his duty to exhort sinners to repentance, and entered upon that work with zeal and fidelity. Such were his gifts, grace, and usefulness in this vocation, that he was adjudged by the Church as called of God to the higher office of preaching the Gospel, and, accordingly, in 1808, he was licensed to preach. In due time he was recommended to the annual conference as a proper person to be received on trial into the traveling connection. He was received at the conference held at Liberty Hill, October 7th, and was appointed to travel Mad River circuit. In the year 1810 he was sent to the Tennessee Valley, where his labors were arduous and somewhat successful.

To show the wide extent of country over which the early preachers traveled-we do not allude to the first missionaries, such as Burke and Kobler, and others, but those who were regular circuit preachers-all that is necessary is to follow a sketch of their travels. The

next year-1811-we find our brother sent back to Ohio, and appointed to the Cincinnati circuit. At that time this was a large circuit, and many of the appointments were difficult to reach. Presiding elders then had whole states in their districts; and at an earlier day several states and their contiguous territories were included in their field. There were then no public conveyances; but from month to month, and year to year, elders, bishops, and preachers pressed the saddle almost every day. Now one western state suffices to make two whole conferences and parts of three others, while a single circuit of olden time now makes several districts, and a presiding elder can reach nearly all his appointments in a railroad car, sitting on a velvet seat; and the idea of a bishop on horseback is as novel as it would have been to have seen one in a coach in the days of Asbury.

The person of brother Young was rather robust than otherwise, and he possessed a strong constitution; but so severely were his physical powers taxed in frequent, laborious, vehement pulpit exercises, that they at length gave way in some degree. He would preach till he was frequently exhausted, carried on by a zeal which knew no flagging. Every circuit that he traveled was blest with a revival of religion. His whole soul was enlisted to the utmost of its powers in laboring to save his fellowmen. In visiting from house to house, and pouring out his prayers and tears in personal effort for the conversion of all within reach of his ministrations, added to his regular circuit labors, he was a model of a hardworking preacher and pastor, worthy the imitation of some in the itinerant ranks at the present day. Though not a very pleasant speaker, or agreeable in his manners in the pulpit, he was, nevertheless, a burning and a shining light. He possessed a genial spirit; and such was his urbanity in conversation and the social circle, that

all who knew him, whether saint or sinner, held him in the highest esteem, and courted rather than shunned his society.

In the month of December, on an extremely cold day, this devoted minister started out from Cincinnati to visit his appointment at North Bend. The wind blew from the river, in fierce and piercing blasts, directly in the face of the itinerant all the way. From this exposure he took a violent cold, which settled upon his previouslyinjured lungs, producing a hectic fever, which resulted in a settled consumption. He was now confined to his room, and no longer permitted to engage in his muchloved employ. While disease was consuming his system, his soul burned with the all-consuming fire of a zeal for God and his cause, which made it difficult for him to exercise patience enough to keep from going out and warning sinners to repent. Sometimes he would be greatly dejected in mind, and the adversary would assail him with. temptations; but the trial of his faith, being more precious than gold, he was enabled to realize would work out for him, if faithful to the end, a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory. He often expressed fears that he lacked that degree of patience and resignation to the will of God which it was his privilege to possess. He sometimes lamented the absence of that full, overpowering love of God which he had experienced when in full health and vigor; but he knew not that his weak, emaciated frame would have sunk under such a load of glory. Prayer was his constant exercise, and sometimes it would burst out in praise to God and the Lamb. So anxious was he to be in the field doing battle for the Lord, that on one occasion, in opposition to the advice of his physician and the entreaties of his friends, but three days before his death, he rode out to a camp-ground, where the people were adjusting their tents, and waited

for the services to begin. He took his position in the preachers' stand, looked round upon the tents of Israel, and gazing upon the people, he burst into tears, saying, "O, my brethren, I am done with these things now. I shall be at camp meeting no more, but we'll meet in heaven." He returned home, and before that camp meeting closed he left the world in the triumphs of faith, and ascended to mansions on high. "For him to live

was Christ, but to die was gain.”

How often is the Church called to mourn the loss of the most useful and talented young ministers! A heathen poet has said, "Whom the gods love die early." The Bible tells us, "Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his saints;" and hence we infer it is more blessed to die than to live, if we are the beloved of the Lord. A Summerfield, a Cookman, a Blackman, and others, have been called away early, even before they reached life's prime; and as in nature the brightest flowers soonest fade, so in the Church the loveliest types of Christian character are soonest taken away to that world where flowers never wither, and where loved ones always stay. The providence may be mysterious which removes these lights from the Church below; but as with individuals, so with the Church-all things, we are assured, shall work together for her good; and though God removes the most useful and skillful laborers, yet the work goes on.

We had but a partial acquaintance with brother Young, yet his praise was in all the Churches where he labored, and he has left a name better than precious ointment, or all the fragrance of Yemen and Guhl.