Although there are several interesting letters written by him about this time to his relatives and friends, letters that abound in good feeling, in various incident, and in the devoted spirit of his mission, they cannot be introduced without sacrificing the material that represents his later years. Confining ourselves, therefore, to the shortest statement of his public life, we will follow the direct path of his own private journal. But in reading letters dictated in the freedom of the heart, and alive with the inspiration of earnest purposes, one is conscious of the resurrection of a former period; and with the aspect of the olden leaf and the evangelical words upon them written, one seems to drink, for the time, of the same fountain of life that supplied with energy the self-sacrificing and the God-trusting ones. We know that forms of thinking and modes of expression are greatly varied by the succession of time, but we have yet to learn that the pure flame of the spirit, through any medium and in any time, is other than one with the latest excellence. Naturalness, energy, courage, persevering devotion to the welfare of mankind, are qualities that, like gold retained, shine equally brilliant through all the divisions of time, the same in 1815 as in 1854.
August 22d, of this year, he announced, through the religious newspaper at Portsmouth, a paper from which some extracts have been taken, his intention of attending a general meeting in Bradford, Vt., the first Sunday in September, and of going thence into the Province of Lower Canada to visit his relatives, and to renew the friendship of former times with the churches of his former care. To his father, in a letter dated Newmarket, August 5th, he says:—
"I am now preaching in Exeter, Stratham, Newmarket, Epping, Lee, Nottingham Square, Deerfield. Often from one to two thousand people attend at a meeting. I have baptized towards one hundred since last January, and the call for preaching is very general in this quarter."
Soon we hear of him on his appointed way. But before the month of August is exhausted, we find him in Newmarket, Lee, Deerfield, Allenstown, Barnstead, Ipsom and Gilmanton, preaching, and baptizing those that believe. At Lee, where his congregation was gathered from different towns, the good-night meeting lasted till 2 o'clock in the morning, none wishing to depart. Through the pitiless storm he rides to Deerfield, hears seven relate their religious history, whom he baptizes "according to the usage and teaching of the New Testament;" on the next day (Sunday) meets a large assembly at Allenstown, to whom he speaks and administers baptism to a few believers; on Monday, at 3 o'clock P. M., addresses the community at Gilmanton; on Tuesday preaches and baptizes at Mr. Proctor's, on Wednesday returns to Barnstead, and hears that original and peculiarly gifted speaker, Elias Smith, of Portsmouth, N. H.; and on Thursday starts for his northern home by the way of Vermont, accompanied to the Province, by a young man from Farmington, N. H., whose noble history in after years has rendered his name a lasting fragrance in the churches. Indeed the name of John L. Peavy, to those who knew him, is but another word for honor, affection and faithfulness.
"The first day, I arrived at Rumney, a distance of fifty miles, and attended meeting in the evening; on Friday arrived at Bradford, and on Saturday and Sunday attended the general meeting, which was a profitable time. Here my acquaintance with ministers and others was enlarged. On Monday, in company with Rev. J. Boody and brother Peavy, I continued my journey to the North, arriving at Wheelock on Tuesday, where I was persuaded to stop by a gentleman whose wife and child had just expired, to attend their funeral the next day. He had formerly been one of my hearers. We met a large number of mourners and friends, who appeared sincerely to mourn the loss of so virtuous a friend and neighbor. As the meeting was about to commence, Squire Bean presented me the text on which the afflicted husband wished me to speak, which was, 'As in Adam all die, even so in Christ shall all be made alive.' He was a Universalist, I think, in opinion, but with the request I cheerfully complied.
"On Thursday we rode into Canada, as far as to Stanstead, the residence of the good minister, Avery Moulton. On Friday we arrived at my father's, in Compton, where my spirit was melted down by the presence of dear friends, whom I had not seen in fifteen months. Our hearts were mingled in thankful prayer. When I left the Province it was convulsed by war. Now peace had resumed her reign. Seven days I tarried in this place and enjoyed a number of good meetings. On Monday we rode to Ascott, and had a happy meeting with friends that clung to me with affection in my early endeavors at preaching; on Tuesday we visited Oxford; on Wednesday we passed through Brompton and Windsor, to Shipton, where my excellent friend, J. L. Peavy, remained. Leaving an appointment to preach the next Sabbath at Shipton, I proceeded to Ringsey."
Truly might Mr. Badger, in his friendly letter formerly quoted, say, "What is to come I know not." A new cloud is ready to rise upon his path. The fortune of some men allows them a smooth and easy way; and others, as by some causative genius in their being, are called to meet great trials, and to plan their course against strong opposing forces. Such was the life of the independent minister; though it flows as an ample river through much calm and life-like scenery, its common-place is frequently broken by cascades and cataracts. But let us read his own natural statement:—
"In the upper part of the town of Ringsey I attended a funeral. After meeting I rode nine miles to attend an appointment in the lower part of the town. Though the state of feeling was generally low, it was a solemn, refreshing time. Early on Friday morning as I was about to visit my friends in that place, a military officer sent a man, accompanied by a large brawny Indian, to make me a prisoner, and carry me to the county seat of justice, at the Three Rivers, for the offence I had committed against the government, in leaving the country in time of war. This was done although the Governor had issued proclamation that all who had thus left might return in peace. Prisoners of war in time of peace struck me as something new. I asked the person who made me a prisoner what authority he had for so doing; he answered, that he was an officer, and, without showing any proof of his right to act for the government, ordered me immediately to get into the birch canoe, and go with them by water. I candidly informed him that I should not start for the Rivers without authority, and that if I went in the mode of conveyance proposed, under a guard of savages, it would be by force. Finding that I was not alarmed, and that he could not proceed, he then started for the residence of Capt. Moor, about one mile distant, to procure a warrant, and left the savage to guard me. I soon proposed to the red man that I would accompany him on my horse to Capt. Moor's; but fearing that I might ride by, he ran on foot with all speed. When I arrived, the captain had the warrant nearly made out, but, instead of finishing it, met me in a rage. He would not hear to a word of reason, nor to the advice of his friends. After I saw that I must go, I asked the privilege of riding my horse, at the same time offering to hire some of the keepers to go with me by land. The captain replied that he would not grant me the least favor, and the officer said I should go in the birch canoe. As I gave no assent to this method, I was seized by the shoulder and violently dragged out of the door, and beyond what language can paint was abused by the zealous officer. He boldly threatened my life, and accompanied by words of the coarsest profanity, said, 'Damn your blood, I will take your life as quick as I would a rattlesnake's.' After the officer had said this, I addressed the captain in these words: 'Sir I am much surprised that you should thus cause a prisoner to be abused, and that you should put me into the hands of a person at the head of a party of savages, who has threatened my life before your face.' Instead of acting on any idea of propriety suggested by me, he broke forth in swearing, saying that he himself would take my life. At this, his wife and son, being no longer able to refrain, spoke moderately in my behalf. As I had not given my consent to this uncivil mode of conveyance, the officer ordered a cord to be brought with which to bind me. He also asked for assistance, but none of the people present would lend any aid. Then uttering an Indian yell for some savages, whom I supposed he had placed in ambush, we soon saw them appear, some on the river and some on the land. This was a display of ferocity I in nowise had expected. Before they arrived, however, to do the will of the angry officer, Mr. Asa Bean, son of Col. John Bean, came forward in my behalf, and said I should not go with the savage crew, that he would be my keeper and agree that I should be at Windover that day, which was sixteen miles towards the Three Rivers. We then mounted our horses for the journey agreed upon, at which place we arrived about three o'clock, much fatigued. We put up at an inn, and paid our own charges. The mob party came in birch canoes on the river."
For a moment leaving the private journal of Mr. Badger, I would present a letter written to Mr. J. L. Peavy at this very point where he met the uncourteous band who had progressed by water. It will be remembered that he had an appointment at Shipton on Sunday, and that the nature of his circumstances with reference to his public engagement, as well as his friendship for the young man he had introduced into his former field of labor, required a statement of his condition. The letter is dated Windover, L. C., 9 o'clock Friday evening, Sept. 15, 1815. It was written at evening; and I would say that Mr. Badger was a man who generally cast himself upon his morning thoughts, the clear thoughts that preceded the sunrise. Under any personal trouble, he would at evening fall easily to sleep, and in the morning plan his way like a Napoleon, wherever there was magnitude in the difficulties to be met.