Chapter VI: Public Labors in the Province

"From this time, I continued to improve my gift in public
speaking, in this and other neighborhoods of the town.
Feeling much friendship and care for the brethren in
Ascott, I spent as much time as my business would allow
among them, which was to my instruction and comfort, as
there were in that place many faithful and experienced
Christians. As I had some leisure, and found it duty to
visit the neighboring towns, I thought it would be proper
to have something to show, upon my introduction to strange
communities, what my character and standing were at home.
As I felt commissioned from God's throne, I saw no
necessity of applying to men for license or liberty to
preach, and therefore only sought a confirmation of my
moral character. It would indeed be an absurd mission that
did not include the liberty of fulfilling the duty imposed.
Thus 'I did not go up to Jerusalem to those who were
Apostles before me,' though I conferred much with 'flesh
and blood.' I submitted this question to Mr. John Gilson,
who as a minister was highly respected. He concurred with
me in opinion, gave me a letter stating that my moral and
Christian character was good, and that the religious
community believed me to be called to preach the Gospel.
This was singular, as I was not a Methodist, and was in no
way pledged to their peculiar doctrines. We always had,
however, a good understanding, and it was with tears that I
parted from them. Since then I have often met them with
joy, and they are still dear in my memory.[13] For one
year from the time I began to preach, this was all the
letter I had, whilst with solemn joy I went through the
region of Lower Canada to preach, experiencing the mingled
cup of joy and trial common to a missionary life, which was
my heart's choice.

"In the winter of 1812 I made it my home in Ascott,
attended school some, but, so far as scholarship is
concerned, to little profit, as my mind was subjected to
impressions that constrained me to leave school and preach
Christ. In the early part of the winter, I concluded to
visit Shipton, on a preaching tour of about sixty miles,
with Zenas Adams. He was a well-informed young man, who had
commenced preaching a few months earlier than myself. We
started on foot, and travelled along with mind and
conversation seriously imbued with the spirit of our
calling, to the appointments we had made, where we met
large assemblies, who had convened to hear what the boys
could say. Brother A. spoke mostly on this tour. We
attended meetings in Brompton, Melbourne, Shipton, and
other places, meeting kind receptions and gentle treatment
from many good Christians, and short answers from some of
our enemies. At Shipton we were joyfully received by Capt.
Ephraim Magoon, in a manner never to be forgotten by me;
also were we kindly greeted by many other good friends. We
passed several days in this place, which laid the
foundation for a long acquaintance, and for my subsequent
labors in that community."

The following paragraph is so characteristic of Mr. B., that no one can fail to see the man as present in the youth. It was in sudden emergency that the energy and creativeness of his genius were always manifest. Though naturally diffident, no one ever saw him in an emergency that proved greater than his own mind. His dignity, firmness, composure and aptness at such times, were always striking and heroic. In a crisis, who ever saw him at a loss?

"On our return, at a meeting held at Mr. Hovey's, whilst
Adams was preaching, a British officer came in. When the
sermon was ended, I arose to speak by way of exhortation.
It was a solemn, weeping time, and I observed the officer
to shed tears. When the meeting was dismissed he made known
to us his business, informing us that Esquire Cushing had
sent him to arrest us, and to bring us before him for
examination, as it was a time of war between two nations,
and we were strangers. 'But as for myself,' he kindly
observed, 'I am not concerned about you, and if you will
agree to call on Esquire C. to-morrow, I will return home;'
to which we agreed, exhorting him to repent. The next day
we called at Esquire Cushing's tavern (for his were the
double honors of landlord and magistrate) and ordered
refreshment. At evening we were formally summoned into his
presence. I walked forward and Adams fell in the rear, in
order that I might act as the chief speaker. Mr. Cushing
then exclaimed, with all the harsh authority a British
tyrant could assume 'What's your business in this country?'
I replied, 'To preach Christ's Gospel, sir.' 'By what
authority?' 'By the authority of Heaven, sir.' At this the
old man began to look surprised and beaten, thinking that I
probably knew his character too well for him to succeed in
this sort of treatment; and my friend Adams,
constitutionally mild and retiring, began to take courage.
He then observed, 'How came you in this country?' 'My
father purchasing a large tract of land in the town of
Compton, brought me into this country when nine years old,
and, _sir_, I have as good a right here as you or any other
man.' 'Have you taken the oath of allegiance?' 'Yes, sir.'
'Let me see your certificate,' added he. I presented it; it
was read and returned. 'Are you a son of Major Badger, of
Compton?' 'I am, sir.' 'Well, you'd better be at home than
to be strolling about the country.' 'I thank you, sir, I
shall attend to what employment I think best, and shall
visit what part of the country I please.' Here I was
dismissed, and I conclude he thought me a saucy fellow.

"Next poor Adams had to walk up. He came forward with a
calm and delicate countenance, clothed in the sweet temper
of the Lamb. The blood which had forsaken his beardless
face, now returned, and adorned his cheeks with their
accustomed bloom, as he stood before a '_beast of the
deep_,' who possessed much of the spirit that prevailed in
his mother-country during the reign of Queen Mary, who
caused her own beautiful cousin, Lady Jane Grey, to ascend
the scaffold at the age of seventeen to suffer death for
her religion. Brother Adams had taken the oath of
allegiance, but as he could present no certificate he
experienced some difficulty and suffered much abuse. But
his soft answers served to turn away wrath. As I knew him I
spoke in his favor, and after a short time we were
dismissed. The next morning, after paying an extravagant
price for poor, and to us disagreeable entertainment, we
departed, rejoicing that we in our youthful days were
counted worthy to suffer for Jesus' sake.

"This journey was very beneficial to me. Here a friendship
was formed between brother Adams and myself which has never
since been destroyed. He was an excellent young man, and
had not at that time joined the Methodist connection. After
a most agreeable acquaintance for more than one year, it
was heart-rending to part with him. I found that he was
resolved to join the Society, and that he was very anxious
that I should. We conversed on the measure lengthily. I
proposed to him that we would travel at large, and not be
confined to sect or party, but preach a free salvation to
all who would hear us. He said that his confidence was so
small, that he thought it best to preach upon an
established circuit, where he should be sure of a living
and where he should have homes to receive him. I replied,
that I could not fear to trust in God for a living; that
the faithful minister would never starve; and that if I
could not get further on my way, at any time, I would go
home and resume my daily toil. I saw that he was set on
going to Conference; he also saw that I had a permanent
dislike to the _Bishop's power_, and that I would not
become subject to the Methodist _laws_. We did not longer
urge each other, but parted in love. I walked with him half
a mile, when he started, and I felt the trial of our
parting to be great. We kneeled in the woods with our arms
around each other, and when we had prayed and bathed each
other's bosoms in tears, we arose and parted with
affectionate salutation, never expecting to meet again on
earth. He went to unite with the American Methodists, and
I, more from duty than inclination, remained among enemies
in Lower Canada, to stem the torrent of opposition alone.

"In the month of January I left school, rode to Hatley and
Stanstead, on the shore of Lake Mogogue, where I spent
certain days, and attended several meetings. The greater
part of the winter, when out of school, I spent at Ascott,
Compton, and Westbury, where I had good times, though
mingled with trials and temptations. The first day of
January, 1813, was a very glorious time at a general
meeting in Ascott. Mr. Gilson, and a colored man by the
name of Dunbar, who was both a godly man and a faithful
preacher, were our principal speakers. In the month of
March I took a journey to Shipton alone, where I enjoyed a
glorious meeting, and made an engagement to return in the
spring.

"During this month, my eldest brother came four miles to
hear me preach. He requested me to make an appointment at
his house, which was near my father's residence; and but
few of our family had ever heard me speak. His house was
one where I had attended many balls and had met assemblies
for vain recreations. The audience to whom I spoke was
composed of my parents, brothers, sisters, neighbors, and
my fellow youth, who had been my old companions in
sin--circumstances that rendered my cross very great. My
father's presence made my embarrassment much greater, as I
knew the critical cast of his mind, the extensive reading
and education by which his intellect was enriched. I
observed that my father selected a seat with his back
towards me. Excessive as my cross was, I could not be
reconciled to this. I arose and presented him my chair, and
when he had again taken his seat, I read a hymn from the
Methodist collection, which was sweetly sung by the young
people, my brother serving as chorister. After prayer and
the second singing, I announced my text, at which every
countenance fell, a general surprise being visible all
around, and the young people appeared as solemn as if the
day of doom had dawned. I believe I have intimated
heretofore that, as a town, the people were irreligious. My
text was Matt. 23: 33. 'Ye serpents, ye generation of
vipers! how can ye escape the damnation of hell?' My text
was harsh, but my discourse was mild. I first noticed the
natural qualities of serpents and vipers that constituted
the analogy of the passage, and that furnished the reason
of their being so called. Second, I described what I
considered to be the damnation of hell. Third, I endeavored
to show how we might escape this, and the necessity of
improving a present day of grace. I then addressed myself
to the assembly in the following order: 1st, to my parents;
2d, to my brothers and sisters; 3d, to the young people;
4th, to the neighbors. This was indeed one of the most
affecting scenes I ever had witnessed. When I came to
address the young people in relation to our former sports
in that room, and to express my regard for them, and to
tell them of the new and better inheritance I had
discovered, some wept aloud, and at the close several said
'Pray for me.' I name this circumstance, as it was the
first time my parents ever heard me preach, and it being a
time deeply impressed on my own memory. After this I rode
four miles, and preached in the evening at Mr. Benjamin
Sleeper's, in whose house a most beautiful child lay dead,
and which on the following morning received its burial."

I find, on another page of his journal, that the sermon here spoken of bears date March 23d, 1813.

"I now began to reflect on the situation of the people at
Shipton, and felt it my duty to return to them, as in that
and in several adjoining towns there was no minister. I
accordingly made preparations and started, April 1st, 1813.
On the way I spoke several times, to good assemblies;
arrived on the 6th, and found from multitudes a joyful
reception. A reformation immediately began among the youth,
and the spirits of the aged pilgrims revived like the
golden life of a second summer. This, to me, was an
evidence I could not doubt, that it was under a heavenly
guidance that I had come to Shipton. I made it my home at
Capt. Magoon's, where I enjoyed, with the aged people, many
very happy hours; they were indeed the excellent of the
earth, and I hope their numerous kindnesses to me may
receive a thousand-fold reward.

"In the month of June, I made my first visit to Ringsey, to
which place I was invited by Col. Bean, one of my father's
particular acquaintances, likewise one of the principal men
in this community. Though invited on a personal visit at
his house, which was about sixteen miles distant, I found,
on my arrival, a multitude assembled, to whom I spoke,
under the conscious aid of the higher power. Several dated
their conviction from this meeting, and through all the
town the reformation spread. After speaking to them a few
more times, I returned to Shipton; and in a few weeks
visited them again, where I found several happy converts
and many whose heart-cry was for mercy. Thus the work
spread until it was thought that upwards of one-half of the
grown people had experienced religion; I say experienced
religion, for religion is not a matter of theory but of
life. Its home is not in the dry speculation of the brain,
but in the field of experience. Religion in theory is like
the pictures of trees and flowers; they may win the eye and
the fancy; but these pictures do not blossom, nor grow, nor
bear fruits. The juices of life flow in the roots and
branches of everything that grows.

"Col. Bean, my good friend, whose house was always to me an
agreeable home, and some of his children, found peace in
Christ. He continued a shining light until his death, which
was about one year after. The many pleasant days and nights
enjoyed with him and his agreeable family afford pleasure
in their recollection; and though these cheerful scenes are
not to be recalled, I trust they may be resumed in a better
state of being.

"The latter part of August I was invited to attend a
meeting in the upper part of the town of Ringsey, a place
whose inhabitants were said to be remarkably hardened and
wicked. I thought a place like this should not be shunned
by a minister whose commission it is to seek the lost. At
the time appointed there was a general attendance. I had
rode a long distance, and both myself and horse were very
much fatigued. I had no attention whatever paid me as to
refreshment, nor did their sense of civility or bowels of
compassion disturb them with a single thought about the
needs of the faithful animal that had done its part in
helping them to a minister, and that stood very patiently
by the side of the fence. I stood, a stranger, in the midst
of _glaring_ spectators. I recollect that when walking
through the assembly, I felt an emotion of tenderness and
solicitude for them that nearly impelled me to tears. I
spoke to them from Zech. 9: 12, and, if ever the Being who
gave me my mission assisted me in fulfilling it, it was
then. Though very feeble in health I spoke to them over one
hour, and the power of God came down upon the assembly, and
many wept aloud. At the close I gave opportunity to any who
wished me to pray for them to indicate their mind by
rising, when the greater part of the assembly arose. The
cry was audible and general, 'What shall I do to be saved?'
In my closing prayer I could scarcely be heard. Though
late, I mounted my horse, and rode nine miles to Shipton,
where, at the house of Mr. Heath, I was kindly treated. But
I was so weary and exhausted that I retired without
refreshment, and did not visit Ringsey again for several
weeks, leaving them to work out their own salvation. I then
proceeded up the St. Francis river about seventy miles, to
the town of Dudswell, where I found a happy circle of
Christians. When I again returned to Ringsey the scene was
wonderfully changed. Old and young flocked into the streets
to meet and welcome my return. I could not pass a house
where I was not urged to go in. I occasionally spoke to
them during my stay in that country. Truly in this place
were the songs of the old and the young mingled together.

"In the month of August, we held at Shipton a general
meeting. Mr. R. Smith preached a very interesting discourse
on Saturday, from Gal. 3: 26: 'For ye are all the children
of God by faith in Christ Jesus.' Sunday morning Mr. Avery
Moulton spoke from Acts 3: 22: 'A prophet shall the Lord
your God raise up.' Mr. J. Gilson next addressed the
assembly from 2 Kings 5: 13. After him I endeavored to
speak from Zech. 9: 17: 'For how great is his goodness, how
great is his beauty!' Several happy converts were baptized
at this meeting by Elder Moulton.

"From this we appointed a general meeting to be held at
Ascott, on the 8th, 9th, and 10th of October. It being a
time of war between two powerful nations, our situation was
rendered very unpleasant in many respects. Our provincial
officers were much opposed to our travelling from town to
town, and our brethren in general refused to bear arms.
This enraged the officers. They frequently sent spies to
our meetings to see if we prayed for the king and if we
preached against the government, as we afterward learned.
One of the officers once accosted me in these words: 'Well,
Mr. Badger, I understand you do not pray for the king!'
'You are mistaken, sir, I do pray for the king.' 'But _how_
do you pray for him?' 'I pray that he may become converted,
and be a child of God.' 'Ah! but that won't do; you ought
to pray for the success of his arms.' 'I do, sir, pray for
his arms, that his swords may be beaten into ploughshares
and his spears into pruning-hooks. This is the best prayer
I can make in his behalf.' He did not seem to like my
answer, but said no more to me.

"The October meeting coming off at this time, made no small
stir among the people, and the wicked, as of old, 'took
counsel together against the Lord, and against His
anointed.' As they had been successful in driving two good
preachers out of the country, they were now emboldened to
make a strong attempt, first to frighten us out of the
country, and should they fail in that, which they did, to
disturb our meetings as their next best stroke of policy.
They issued warrants for nine of us, myself and two other
ministers, and six of the leading members of our churches.
We were arrested on the first day of our meeting, which had
opened under promising auspices, as enemies to the
Government. I had an insight into their methods before any
part of their plot was executed; for as I was on my way the
morning of the 8th, and within eight or nine miles of the
meeting, an officer with whom I was acquainted, hailed me
from his house and observed if I would wait a few moments
he would be my company. As we rode along I drew from him a
development of the whole plot, and at that time I became
his prisoner. The greatest fear I had was this, that the
meeting would be essentially disturbed. The prisoners were
to be delivered and have their trial at Mr. Stone's tavern,
one mile from the place of the meeting, _at the same time_
that it was in progress. When I arrived at the place where
the congregation was to convene, I called, found several
preachers present, and some brethren to whom I related the
whole of what was about to transpire. Some were filled with
fear. I advised them to discover no alarm, but to go on
composedly with their meeting, provided there should not be
more than ten persons left, after the rulers should have
sifted the audience in their legal network, and to pay no
attention whatever to us who were absent, except to
remember us kindly in their prayers; and away I went to
stand in the presence of authority. Soon, however, I was
favored with the company of brother Amos Bishop, a faithful
minister of the Gospel. He came in rejoicing that he was
counted worthy to suffer for Jesus' sake. Our trial
formally opened on Friday noon, but not much was done. At
evening I obtained a room in which to hold meeting,
thinking that inasmuch as the legal process was tardy, the
ministers present could make no better use of their leisure
time than in preaching Christ to all who would become our
hearers. Seats were prepared, and the neighbors flocked in.
I then walked into the somewhat spacious bar-room to invite
the honorable court to attend, a body composed of three
magistrates, viz.: Pennoyer, Nichols, and Hyat, who were at
the time _merrily passing the glass_. Making to them as
courteous an address as I was capable, in which I stated
the superlative worth of the religion of Christ in the
soul, I gave them an invitation to be with us. They did not
make much reply, but stood by the door, as we learned,
where they could hear the communications of the meeting.
Never did we enjoy a more glorious time, never did we
realize the divine presence more joyfully than here under
keepers. Many brethren came to see us, their eyes filled
with tears, whilst our hearts overflowed with joy.

"Saturday morning I arose very early and obtained
permission to visit my brethren at the general meeting on
condition that I would return at nine o'clock. I enjoyed my
visit there; but what most affected me was this. Just as
the sun had begun to brighten the eastern sky, after I had
started, I met my oldest sister and my brother's wife, who
had heard of my bonds, and hastened with eyes and hearts
full of sympathetic concern for my welfare. They had
arrived at the place the night previous, and were at that
early hour hastening to the lodgings of their poor brother
Joseph in afflictions. When I saw them I could not refrain
from tears. They brought me money and articles of clothing,
which were acceptable to me at that time. They tarried
through the meeting and returned home.

"At ten o'clock the court sat, and the whole scene together
was one at which the student of human nature might have sat
with amusement, scorn, edification, and pity. False
witnesses arose as in ancient days. I say false witnesses,
because they proved so before the court. They stated that
we had opposed our brethren in bearing arms, that we had
spoken diminutively of the British king, topics on which
the public speakers present had been silent. Finally, at
the close we were bound over for our appearance at court,
which sat at the Three Rivers, and only twenty-five minutes
were granted us in which to procure bondsmen. This we
utterly declined doing. I told them that I knew the
character of the cause in which I was called to suffer;
that for me the _Stone Jug_ had no terrors, and that if I
must occupy its walls, I should trust that the same God who
heard Paul's prayers and songs at midnight, would also be
my friend. At this a captain was ordered to take charge of
me. Bishop answered rather independently, and asked Esq. P.
to be his bondsman, but at length informed them that he
despised their power. At this we were companions. Many
present who were at first our enemies, came to me in tears,
and offered to be our bondsmen. A captain who had carefully
observed all that had transpired, came and offered to
pledge his farm for me. At this, sympathy became
contagious, and the spectators, who had thus far been
watchfully silent, began to damn the squires, two of whom
were now observed to stagger, having taken too much whiskey
to retain a respectable command of their persons. One of
them took me aside, told me that he found no cause against
me, that it was the others who had caused them to bind me
over, that he had always been _my_ friend, and would attend
meeting the next day. The poor fellow fell from his horse
on the way home, and broke his shoulder, which for weeks
prevented him from leaving his house. Esq. P. the following
day was found in the road drunk; and thus ended the suit.
These events were not ineffectual. Our keepers, on seeing
the agitation of the people, and the increase of our
friends, on Monday morning, by the advice of Captain Ward,
dismissed us, and told us to go about our business. This
was a day of glad news to the brethren, who in trembling
fear and faith, had borne us in their prayers to the
Invisible King; and now having a little leisure, I improved
it in visiting my friends at Compton. I had not seen my
father's house for months. I spent some time with them very
agreeably--relived past scenes in conversation--bade them
an affectionate farewell and again went to Shipton.

"In the latter part of the year 1813, when on my return
from Shipton, my father sent me word that unless I could
tarry several days, he wished me to send an appointment and
preach at his house. This to me was welcome tidings, as I
had long been waiting with hopeful anxiety for this
opportunity to open. I sent an appointment, which soon
spread over the town. No travelling minister had at this
time ever preached at my father's house, and a large
multitude assembled, probably under the impression that
there was something new in the circumstance. Oh, how
solemn, how memorable the scene! I had long been absent
from home among strangers, had passed through a trying
experience in which friendship and hatred had largely
commingled, and now, at the invitation of a kind father, I
stood amidst my relatives, brethren and old acquaintances,
to speak freely on whatever I felt to be dear to the hope
and salvation of man. I spoke from Mark 5: 19. 'Go home to
thy friends, and tell them how great things the Lord hath
done for thee, and hath had compassion on thee.' After the
assembly had dispersed, my father and myself spent a great
part of the night in conversation on the things of the
kingdom, in which he rather favored the doctrine of
Universalism. I had an agreeable visit of a few days, and
went rejoicing on my way. I name these circumstances as
they belong to the time I first preached at my father's
house.

"At Shipton and vicinity, we had through the fall and first
part of the winter, golden seasons, and many were added to
the church of God. Party rage seemed to die away, and
persecution greatly subsided. I now began to feel a
dismission, so far as my labors and responsibilities were
related to this region of country; and in casting my eye
over the world as my lawful field, I longed to visit other
lands, and carry to distant parts the unsectarian message
of Repentance, Faith, and Love. During the winter I made
several visits at Stanstead, a town lying on the eastern
shore of Lake Memphremagog, where I saw a few persons
converted, and where, with the saints of the Most High, I
took sweet counsel. Also had many useful meetings in my
father's vicinity.

"In the spring of 1814 I found my health exceedingly poor.
Many thought I was inclining to the consumption. As the
roads were exceedingly bad in the spring season throughout
the province, I resolved to make but one general visit in
each particular place where I had preached, unless
particular impression should otherwise direct me, and then
journey to the land of my nativity, to the New England
sea-coast, around which my feelings of friendship and
reverence warmly clustered, almost taking in the scenery of
New England as a vital part of my filial feelings.
Accordingly, as soon as the going became settled, I started
on my farewell visits through the North country. Hundreds
flocked together in the several towns where my
appointments had been sent, to hear my farewell discourses;
and unegotistically do I record the simple fact that my
audiences wept as I told them my work with them was done,
and that in other lands I must go and publish the same
salvation in which they rejoiced. Many said, from the poor
health I was in, they were satisfied they should never see
me again. This was indeed a solemn time to me. I made my
intended visit, and left Shipton on the 5th of June. Many
of the aged saints and the warm-hearted young people came
together at an early hour in the morning to bid me adieu.
When ready to leave, I sung a few verses of a missionary
hymn, which thus commences:

"'Farewell, my brethren in the Lord!
The Gospel sounds the Jubilee;
My stammering tongue shall sound aloud,
From land to land, from sea to sea.'

Some united in the song, others were prevented by the
fulness of their emotion. At the close, we kneeled together
in prayer; and it was with a heavy heart that I offered to
them my parting hand. Never can I forget the kindness and
friendship of this people. They contributed largely to my
necessities, welcomed me to their homes, and upheld, with
their prayers, my feeble hands. Returning to spend a few
days at my father's house, I found on parting, the strength
of the social and filial ties that bind the heart of man to
its home. When, after prayer, I gave my hand to my father,
he could only utter 'God bless you,' such were his
emotions, and a wordless silence, accompanied by tears, was
my mother's benediction. When I rode away, I felt myself
dead to every earthly prospect, to every worldly enjoyment,
and from the dearest friends on earth cut off. Yet there
was a holy sunshine falling down upon my clouds, that gave
to my sinking spirit its needful consolation. It is
usually thought that the situation of a youth cut off from
his friends is a trying one, especially so if called to the
ministry. It is not only in parting with friends and in
renouncing worldly prospects, that the spirit is tried; the
life of a missionary, who is a man of God and faithful, is
exposed to a thousand sufferings and dangers. Missionaries
often go forth as the chosen organs of different
denominations, whose denominational interests they plead,
and from whom they receive a pledged support. I had aspired
to be a missionary of another school, a missionary _to_ men
and not _from_ men, having only the Gospel of the world's
salvation to uphold, looking on high for the mission, and
to the just and careful operations of His providence for
all necessary support. For one so conditioned to consider
the awful and immense responsibility he assumes before God,
to think of the account he must soon render of his
stewardship, is enough to humble him in the dust. Yet when,
on the other hand, the faithful minister has a view of the
everlasting inheritance that appears to the eye of faith,
from the future compensations of His love, he can say, with
the great missionary of the Gentiles, 'I reckon that the
sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be
compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us.'
Perhaps this contemplation is not capable of a statement
more just than that which it finds in the olden words:

"'What contradictions meet
In ministers' employ;
It is a bitter sweet,
A sorrow full of joy.
No other post affords the place
For equal honor and disgrace.'"

With these lines the nobly expressed narrative of Mr. B., so far as it relates to his early ministerial labors in the Province, closes. A few other documents lie before me, several letters from the hand of Mr. Z. Adams, his colleague for a time in the labors and trials of his early ministrations, several letters of commendation from churches with whom he had labored, and from influential ministers with whom he had associated. These letters from Mr. A., though wearing the sallow impress of time on their forms, are fresh with the ardor and devotedness of what never grows old, the earnest heart; and what is peculiar to all these letters from the churches is this, that, after the usual commendatory expressions relative to moral and Christian character, they invariably speak of the _success_ of his ministry among the people. There are also a few letters from him to his father and brothers, written during the period of his ministerial labors of 1813-14, that are unfeignedly rich in the spirit of self-sacrifice, firm faith in his mission, and a fine feeling of love and kindness to all his relatives, a quality flowing through all the correspondence I have seen, addressed to relatives. A long catalogue of names, dated Dec. 20, 1813, shows the number of persons in different towns who were converted under his ministry; and though the evidences at hand indicate for them a general stability of principle and aim, _one_ name, from the first column, must appear to great disadvantage in a future chapter, for it would be equal to a hunting excursion in the forests of antiquity, to find in any country a more unreasonable persecutor, on a limited scale, than was Capt. Moor, in the month of September, 1815.

Joseph Badger was a man who could never endure dulness. Lifelessness and inactivity, in fine, all the brood of stupid demons, he had a magical power to disperse. They fled at his entrance. He _would_ have life and interest, and no man could better create them, by awakening readily the resources of all around him. Thus far we only see the young man of twenty, but the same inherent traits of his whole life are conspicuous. He awakens community wherever he goes. He calls out opposition, creates strong friends and enemies, concentrates attention, brings himself into trying emergencies, which call out his various facility of tact and successful management, his firmness and self-composure. Having set his mind and heart on the persuasion of men to repent and to seek salvation, he carries a multitude along to this end. But what is most rich, is the deep evangelical element, in which all his powers are immersed; his constant, prayerful, weeping solicitude for souls. I know not where to go to find these holy elements in a more abundant, pure, and I will add, in a more natural state, than they appear in Mr. Badger's early life. His enthusiasm was not rash or fanatical. The fire of his heart blended with the light of his brain. His eye was always as calm as it was penetrating. It combined the glow and the calmness of the night-star. Almost at the risk of presenting too much of a good thing, I venture to quote a mere fraction of some of these letters, each line of which is so fully alive with the sincerity and earnest faith of the writer.

"SHIPTON, May 11th, 1813.

"DEAR PARENTS,--I assure you it is with pleasure I once
more attempt to write you. I arrived on May the 6th, very
much fatigued. I walked twenty-one miles without
refreshment, which was too much for my nature. I was unable
to preach for some days. My greatest pain was to see the
inroads made by the enemy into our little church whilst I
was absent, and the spirit of persecution that rankles in
many hearts. As I view souls united to eternity, and see
that some are hewing out to themselves 'broken cisterns,'
and giving way to 'seducing spirits,' in the doctrine, 'Ye
shall not surely die,' I am led to mourn."

"It is surprising to view the beauties of creation, in
which we see how everything is formed for the use and
comfort of man. Yet how sadly they abuse the great
profusion of His blessing. 'What more could He have done
for His vineyard than He hath done for it?'--Isaiah 5: 4.
Whilst I meditate on the extent of His goodness and long
suffering, on the cross of Him who died for all, and then
think of the wickedness that abounds, I am obliged to
mourn. Oh my loving parents, may we be wise for both
worlds, for time and for eternity! I have had serious
thoughts of late why it was that my father did not write to
me. As I am here in the wilderness without any relatives or
connections, I thought that love for me would have led him
to seek my enlightenment if I am in darkness, he being
acquainted with the Scriptures; and if I am right, I
thought he would wish to give me encouragement. My love to
all for their kindness.

"Your prayerful servant,
J. BADGER."

"STANSTEAD, July 16, 1814.

"DEAR FATHER,--According to my expectation when at your
house, I started on my journey to the southward, preaching
on my way; Friday at Derby, Saturday at Holland, Sunday at
Major Stewart's, in Morgan, where I met a large concourse
of people, among whom were eleven young persons from Derby,
who were deeply awakened to a sense of their danger whilst
out of Christ. To their ardent solicitation for me to
return to Derby, I have yielded, which makes it expedient
for me to tarry one week more. I do not enjoy very good
health, but my mind is happy. I feel that at most a few
more rolling suns will bring me to the fair city of Rest.
Each beating pulse but leaves the number less. Had I time I
would gladly ride to Compton to see you. But it is wholly
uncertain when we again shall meet. I ofttimes think of you
all. My love to relatives and inquiring friends.

"'From all that's mortal, all that's vain,
And from this earthly clod,
Arise, my soul, and strive to gain
Sweet fellowship with God.'

"I subscribe myself a Disciple of Christ, or a Friend to
Mankind.

"J. BADGER."

"ASCOTT, July 27, 1813. (In haste.)

"DEAR BROTHER,[14]--Since I have seen you I have preached
in Compton, Ascott, Westbury, Oxford, Brompton, Ringsey,
Shipton. I am in great haste on my return. I have been
comfortable as to health, though much fatigued. I have felt
the waters of salvation to flow sweetly through my soul.
Give yourself no trouble if you hear I am taken up. You
know the animosities that war engenders. The God who
delivered Daniel, and who protected our fathers, has
promised to shield me whilst in the way of my duty. Keep
free from all strife, deny self, live in peace with all
men. I still feel it my duty to employ all my abilities in
holding up Christ to a dying world. My love to parents and
brethren."

These extracts show the spirit with which his whole early life was imbued, and they accord well with the journal he wrote a few years later. One vital life pervades them all. Whilst the war was desolating the country, filling the minds of men with anger, jealousy, and irreverence to humanity, he, the heroic young soldier of the Cross, was successfully pouring into their hearts the great lessons of Reformation, Unity, and Peace. Such a ministry at such a time appears to the eye of history as a rainbow arching the black region of cloud and storm, or as life-clad rivers that flow along through the desert regions of the earth.