By request, met the Rev. Richard Watson, and some others of the Missionary Committee. They wished to consult us respecting the resolutions forwarded to them from your Missionary Committee. They profess that they will not occupy any station where there is a mission, as Grand River, Penetanguishene, etc., except St. Clair. But they declare that as it regards the white population, the agreement with the American Conference ceased when we became a separate connexion. I opposed their views, as I have invariably done, in very strong and plain terms, and explained to them the character and object of the persons who were alluring them to commence this schism. They proposed that we should give up the missions to them. I told them we could no more do so, than they give up theirs. They finally acquiesced, and voted the £300 as Rev. Dr. Townley wrote. At the Conference, at Bristol, I explained that a union of the two Conferences would be inexpedient and unprofitable, any further than a union of brotherly love and friendship.

I have been detained so long on expenses, and continually advancing money for the Central Committee at York, that I hope it will be repaid to Peter Jones. I was a long time attending to the business of my mission to bring it to the only practicable arrangement, that is, having it submitted to the Legislature of Upper Canada, with such recommendations and instructions as would give satisfaction to the country by consulting the wishes and interests of all parties. I have never before in my life been shut up to walk in all things by simple faith more than I have for some months past; yet I was never kept in greater steadfastness and peace of mind, nor had such openings of the Spirit and life of Jesus in my soul. The judgments of God are spreading apace—the cholera is more deadly in London, and it has now broken out in Ireland, and in the centre of Paris, where it is said to be very destructive. You need no other evidence of its being a work of God, than to be informed that it is made the public mock of the infidel population of this city; a state of feeling and conduct in regard to this pestilence that never, perhaps, was witnessed from any country, and that would make a heathen or Mahommedan ashamed. I have seen gangs of men traversing the streets and singing songs in ridicule of the cholera, and have seen caricatures of it in the windows.

The subject of the Union appears to be less and less palatable to our friends in these parts, so much so, that I think it will not be safe for you to come to any permanent arrangements with the British Conference, even should they accede to our proposals. I am of the opinion that, except we give ourselves entirely into their hands in some way or another, no Union will take place. I tell the preachers, and they and I tell the people, that, Union or no Union, it is very important that you should go home; that you will endeavour, in every way you can, to convince the British Conference of the manifest injustice and wickedness of sending missionaries to this country.

You must look at the great principles and results involved in this most important affair, and not shrink from the duties imposed on you, to avoid a few present unpleasant consequences. It is not for me to prescribe rules of conduct to be observed by you, but I must say, that I am surprised that any circumstance should cause you to waver for a moment in reference to your visit to Europe. If you were to decline coming, would not the many on the other side, who are strictly watching your movements, at once say that the whole arrangements are deceptive, and merely designed to make an impression on me for a certain purpose. You know they would. Of course you will act as you please. I neither advise nor persuade, but say: Be not too soon nor too much alarmed. There are no jealousies, no evil surmisings, no ambitious designs in the matter, but a sincere desire to promote the interests of Methodism and the cause of religion in Upper Canada; and nothing will be desired from, or recommended to, you, but for this purpose.

It is a noble object that we have in view. Rev. Richard Watson takes a statesmanlike view of the whole case, and will, I am persuaded, as will all concerned here, meet you with the utmost ingenuousness and liberality, and, if they be met in a similar manner, all will end well. If you can agree to the following recommendation, I think everything else will easily be settled, viz., to constitute two or three districts, to meet annually, as District Conferences, and to hold a Triennial Conference, to be composed of all the preachers in the Provinces, under a President, to be appointed in the way mentioned in the plan of agreement proposed by your last Conference. Several of your preachers wish it; Bro. Green, the presiding Elder, is in favour of it.

After the holidays I commenced operations, and having besieged the doors of several of our gentry, most of whom contributed without much resistance, on most honourable terms, of course, such as paying from $3 to $6, with a great many wishes, and hearty ones too, for your success. More than two-thirds of the sum collected are given by the gentlemen of the village, most of whom expressed and appeared to feel a pleasure in giving, and who have never been known to give anything to the Methodists before on any occasion whatever. Our congregation has greatly increased, so that we now have about five hundred, some say more, in the evening. A majority of the first families in the village attend our chapel. Among many others, Mr. Jonas Jones, and several of the families in the same connection; Mr. Sherwood, the High Sheriff, and several others, most of whom have never been known to attend a Methodist meeting before. You will be surprised to hear that Mrs. James Sherwood has become my warm friend, treating me with the greatest attention and kindness; and also on various occasions speaking most kindly and respectfully of me and all our family, especially yourself.

A year ago this morning, at half-past five o'clock, the wife of my youth fell asleep in Jesus, leaving a son and daughter (John and Lucilla Hannah), the former two years and a half old, and the latter fourteen days. Hannah Aikman (her maiden name) was the daughter of John and Hannah Aikman, and was the youngest of eleven children. Hannah was born in Barton, Gore District, on the 4th of August, 1804. Her natural disposition was most amiable, and her education was better than is usually afforded to farmer's daughters in this country. At the age of sixteen she was awakened, converted, and joined the Methodist Church, of which she remained an exemplary member until her death. I became intimately acquainted with her in 1824, when she was twenty years of age, and after taking the advice of an elder brother, who had travelled the circuit on which they lived, at the strong solicitation of my parents, and the impulse of my own inclinations, I made her proposals of marriage, which were accepted. This was before I had any intention of becoming a preacher in the Methodist Church, either travelling or local.

About this time the Lord laid his afflicting hand upon me;[37] I was brought to the gate of death, and in that state became convinced by evidence as satisfactory as that of my existence, that in disregarding the dictates of my own conscience, and the important advice of many members of the Church, both preachers and lay, in regard to labouring in the itinerant field, I had resisted the Spirit of God; and on that sick, and in the estimation of my family, dying bed, I vowed to the Lord my God, that if He should see fit to raise me up and open the way, I would no more disobey the voice of His Providence and servants. From that hour I began visibly to recover, and, though the exercises of my mind were unknown to any but myself and the Searcher of hearts, before I had sufficiently recovered to walk two miles, I was called upon by the Presiding Elder, and several official members, and solicited to go on the Niagara Circuit, which was then partly destitute through the failure in health of one of the preachers. I could not but view this unexpected call us the voice of God, and, after a few days' deliberation and preparation, I obeyed, on the 24th of March, 1825, the day on which I was twenty-two years of age.

This unanticipated change in the course of my life, while it involved the sacrifice of pecuniary interests and some very flattering offers and promises, presented my contemplated marriage in a somewhat different light; though the possibility of such a change was mentioned as a condition in my proposals and our engagement. And I will here record it to the honour of the dead that she who afterwards became my wife, wrote to me a short time after I commenced travelling, that if a union between us was in any respect opposed to my views of duty, or if I thought it would militate against my usefulness, I was perfectly exonerated by her from all obligations to such a union; that, whatever her own feelings might be, she begged that they would not influence me,—that God would give her grace to subdue them,—that she shuddered at the thought of standing in the way of my duty and usefulness.

Knowing, as I did, that her fondness for me was extravagant, I could not wound the heart which was the seat of such elevated feelings, or help appreciating more highly than ever the principles of mind which could give rise to such noble sentiments, and such martyr-like disinterestedness of soul. In subsequent interviews, we mutually agreed—should Providence permit—and (at her suggestion) should neither of us change our minds, we would get married in three or four years. During this interval, I had at times agitations of mind as to the advantages of such a step, in regard to my ministerial labours, but determined to rely on the Divine promise, "Blessed is the man that sweareth to his own hurt, and changeth not." This promise has been abundantly fulfilled in me. We were married on the 10th of September, 1828. A more affectionate and prudent wife never lived. She was beloved and respected by all that knew her. I never saw her angry, nor do I recollect that an angry or unkind word ever passed between us. Her disposition was sweet, her spirit uniformly kind and cheerful, sociable, and meek. Her professions were never high, nor her joys rapturous. But in everything she was invariably faithful, and ready for every good word and work. In her confidence, peace, and conduct, as far as I could discover, without intermission, the poet's words were clearly illustrated:—

Though her piety for years excited my respect, and in many instances my admiration, it was nevertheless greatly quickened and deepened about six months before her death, during the Conference held at York. From that time I believe she enjoyed the perfect love of God. At least, as far as I can judge, the fruits of it were manifest in her whole life.

Several days previous to her death, when her illness assumed a mortal aspect, and she became sensible that her earthly pilgrimage was closing, her usual unruffled confidence rose to the riches of the full assurance of understanding, faith and hope, and she expressed herself with a boldness of language, a rapture of hope, and triumph of faith that I never before witnessed. Passages of Scripture, and verses of hymns, expressive of the dying Christian's victories, triumphs, and hopes, were repeated by her with a joy and energetic fervency that deeply affected all present. Her deathbed conversations and dying counsels were a rich repast and a valuable lesson of instruction to many of her Christian friends. The night before she took her departure, she called me to her and consulted me about disposing of the family and all her own things, with as much coolness and judgment as if she had been in perfect health, and was about leaving home on a few days' visit to her friends. A little before midnight she requested the babe to be brought to her—kissed it—blessed it, and returned it. She then called for the little boy (John), and, embracing and kissing him, bequeathed to him also the legacy of a pious mother's dying prayer and blessing. Afterwards she embraced me, and said, "My dear Egerton, preach the Word; be instant in season and out of season, and God will take care of you, and give you the victory." She then bid an affectionate farewell individually to all. She continued in the perfect possession of her reason, triumphing in the Rock of her salvation, until the messenger arrived and her spirit took its departure with the words, "Come, Lord Jesus," lingering upon her lips. Thus lived and died one of the excellent of the earth,—a woman of good, plain sense, a guileless heart, and a sanctified spirit and life. Such is the testimony respecting her, of one who knew her best.

I deeply sympathize with you in your affliction. I know how to feel for you, and you as yet know but a very small part of your trials. Years will not heal the wound. I am, even now, often quite overwhelmed when I allow myself to dwell upon the past. I need not suggest to you the commonplace topics of comfort and resignation, but I have no doubt you will see the hand of God so manifestly in it, that you will say "It was well done." I will further add that the saying of St. Paul was at no time so applicable as at the present (1 Cor. vii. 29, etc.).