Gleanings by the Way

by John A. Clark

The Romanists—Miracles—Indians—Captain M—— The unhappy sailor—Toledo—Cleveland—Buffalo—Niagara Falls.

Detroit, Monday, July 31.

The Roman Church has been supposed to be very strong here, but from inquiries that I every where made, I am still more confirmed in the belief that the papists at the west are making very little impression upon the Protestant population. While they are attempting much, and with sinuous effort endeavoring to identify themselves with every interest, they in fact as yet, with all their marvellous reports to the Leopold Society, have done but very little. That system cannot bear the light. It flourishes best under arbitrary governments, and amid the thick darkness of ignorance. The experiment is now making in this country, whether it can live and flourish in Protestant and republican America without losing its essential and most obnoxious features. The remark was made to me by a highly intelligent man in Detroit, "that the absurdities that were swallowed ten years ago by the Catholics there would be hooted at now." In illustration of this remark, he went on to say, that about eleven years since he was present at the cathedral where the former bishop was preaching, and endeavoring to prove the doctrine of transubstantiation. Among other evidences to which he referred was the following: "A few years previous," said this mitred prelate, "in a certain city in Europe, a profane person procured one of the consecrated wafers, and with carnal curiosity, after leaving the church, broke it in two, when instantly a stream of blood issued forth, which ran down his clothes, and stained his apparel. He went home in great affright, but the stream of blood still flowed, and ceased not till in haste he returned to the priest, and confessed his sin; then the crimson stream was dried up, and its stain from his person removed." "This," said the bishop, "happened in such a city, and there is such an individual now present who lived in that city at the time, to whom you can refer for corroboration."

"It would be the utter ruin of their prospects," said my informant, "for a bishop or a Roman Catholic priest to make such an assertion at the present time. There is too much light now, even among the papists, to listen to such a ridiculous story for a moment."

There is one point of view in which it is infinitely important that Detroit, and many other towns situated similar with it, should have pervading it a high sense of religious feeling. I speak with reference to the influence which the tone of its morals must, and does exert upon the many hundreds of Indians that annually visit it. These red men of the woods are forming their opinions of Christianity from what they see at Detroit, and St. Louis, and many of our western towns. They see among the white population every thing to lead them to turn away with disgust from a religion, professed to be drawn from the Bible. Their depraved natures readily lead them to lay hold of the vices that abound among us, and they go back to their tribes, carrying the impression that these are among the fruits of Christianity. It is painful to see how degraded many of them become in their intercourse with what is called civilized society. Intemperance is the vice which they most readily fall into. Under its baneful influence they seem to lose all the natural and noble traits of their character. I saw in Detroit a stout built Indian playing the merry Andrew through the streets, hawking about a lump of ice, as though it were a loaf of sugar, and calling for the highest bidder. As he staggered by I could not but think how different he appeared from the native son of the forest; that manly and noble bearing, that graceful and elastic step, that grave, serious, and dignified look which sat so well upon the native Indian's brow, and marked him as one of nature's true noblemen, was gone and he had become a poor, degraded, drunken outcast and was trying to pick up a few pennies by making himself a laughing stock to a crowd of idle boys! What formidable barriers do the vices that still remain incorporated with Christian communities present, to hinder the progress and extension of the Redeemer's kingdom!

While at Detroit I met with two incidents, which I noted down at the time, and which it may not be improper to record here. The one was an interview with Captain M——, the popular author of several recent novels who is now making the tour of the lakes. The gentleman whose kind hospitalities I was sharing, had met with him on his way from Buffalo, and had also after his arrival at Detroit, called to pay him his respects. It was certainly civil in the captain to have returned the call, but it was shocking to the feelings of Christian sensibility, that the time selected for this reciprocation of civility, was during the sacred hours of the Sabbath. Capt. M—— could not attend the place of public worship, for the day was to be employed in returning his calls. He appeared to be addressing himself to this in a business-like way. With a friend as his guide, and a carriage to convey him, he was proceeding from street to street, carrying with him his long list of names, and a bundle of visiting cards. All this was done, of course, to show that he appreciated the attentions and civilities he had received. When will men show as much respect to God and his institutions, as they do to the worms of the dust around them?

The other incident was of a still more painful character. On the same Sunday, just at the close of the day, there passed my window, a face that called up the recollection of one whom I supposed had long since been numbered with the dead. My first acquaintance with him was at the commencement of my ministry. His father's residence occupied one of the loveliest spots I had ever beheld on the bank of Lake Ontario. The house and garden, and court yards, all indicated ease and opulence. This young man was then a youth, the only son of his father, and cherishing large expectations in relation to future wealth. He had been reared up under the eye of a fond mother, who "would not let the winds of heaven blow too roughly" upon him. His disposition was naturally amiable and vivacious, and there were many to admire and caress him. But suddenly his prospects were darkened. It was discovered that his father's estate was covered with mortgages, and his affairs embarrassed beyond redemption. One piece of property went after another, till the beautiful family residence was alienated, and bankruptcy and poverty seemed now staring them in the face. Mr. —— had reserved a single farm unencumbered, which he now promised to give his son. The young man, with a truly noble spirit, determined to accommodate himself to the circumstances around him, and entered with hearty zeal upon the cultivation of his farm with his own hands. He had just become acquainted with some of the more common agricultural operations and began to look forward to humble independence, when the astounding fact was disclosed, that this farm too was under a heavy mortgage. In the straitened circumstances in which Mr. —— found himself, he had been led to forget his promise to his son, and to alienate his last acre of land. The young man's spirit seemed broken. He had unhappily contracted the habit of moderate drinking. On his father's sideboard, while he was yet a boy, there always stood a decanter of brandy, and every visitor who made a morning, afternoon, or evening call, was urged to drink. The father and son, to encourage their guests always drank with them. Thus this young man contracted a love for ardent spirits. It was now the season of darkness and depression with him. The mother who had watched over his childhood, had gone down to the grave. The riches in which they once rolled, had taken to themselves wings and flown away. The fond hopes he had cherished of rising by his own industry, had been crushed. Poverty was staring them in the face. This young man was without employment. Several years passed by, and the prospects of this family did not brighten in a single particular. At length the father went abroad. His family were left behind to shift for themselves. He never returned. The son became more and more dissipated, till in a fit of desperation he went to New York, and embarked on board of a ship as a common sailor. Many a father and mother who knew this promising young man, and witnessed his career up to this point, when they looked around upon their own infant band, sighed and shook their heads, painfully feeling that they could not tell what their children would come to. Young ---- went to the East Indies, and, it was said, was lost during the voyage. I had never heard of him since. But as I sat by the window at this time, the countenance and form of one that passed by, so strongly reminded me of him, that I sent out a young lad to overtake him, and invite him to come in. There soon entered one in complete sailor's dress, with loose pantaloons, round-about coat, and tarpaulin hat, swaggering along, evidently under the influence of intoxicating drink. He looked at me for a moment, and then uttered my name! What was my astonishment and amazement! Was this the gifted and talented young ——, whom I had first met in the dwelling of courtly splendor—from whose father's hands I had received so many expressions of kindness and acts of hospitality—over whose pleasure-grounds, amid delightful shade and shrubbery, I had so often roamed? Was this that noble, gifted boy, in relation to whom such high hopes were formed, and who had naturally such generous and kind feelings? I had thought the waves of the deep had long since rolled over him! But no, there he stood, a perfect wreck of what he once was. His eye was glassy, and his breath fetid and offensive beyond endurance. He seemed to be conscious of the degradation he had brought upon himself, and by an evident struggle and effort of will, did succeed in throwing off the symptoms of present inebriety. I found that he had visited every part of the world, and had suffered every thing but death. He had been imprisoned in Chili, and cast away on the shores of western Africa. I spoke to him about his soul. He seemed much affected, and shed tears. After a few moment's pause, he said, "I have been a very wicked fellow, but I have never lost the early impressions I had in relation to my responsibility to God. The little Testament my sister gave me, I have kept when stript of every thing else. I have read it when the other sailors around me were asleep. I knew they did'nt understand my feelings, and they would only laugh at me. I have often prayed, but then I would soon become as wicked as ever. I have thought of you, sir, often, and of the sermons I used to hear. When I sat naked on the burning sand in Africa, I thought of many serious things, which I had heard from your lips, and I tried to pray. Yes, that was an awful time! We were cast away—our vessel was lost—three or four of us got ashore and were saved. But we were immediately stript of every rag of covering, and for three months I wandered over the sands of Africa, naked as when I came into the world, and living as I could snatch a little fruit here and there. I at length found my way to Liberia, and was sent to America by the Governor of that colony."

He then told me that for several years past, he had been on the lakes. I asked him if he was happy. He said "No, never, except in a storm, when every thing around me seems going to destruction. Then I become excited and feel a sort of mad happiness." I entreated him to bethink himself of his ways, and turn unto the Lord. He said he did not think it would do any good; that he was too far gone, and that if he prayed ever so much, or made ever so many resolutions, in a few days he was as bad as ever. I endeavored to point out where the difficulty lay. He went to church with me that evening, and seemed solemn and affected. Poor fellow, I know not what will be his end! I fear there are many youths of our land going on just in this same path.

Cleveland, August 2d.

Yesterday I took leave of Detroit on board the steamboat "United States" for this place, which we reached this morning. On our way here, we visited Toledo, in Ohio, which stands on the Maumee River, about ten miles from its mouth. This is a place of some notoriety, but although we stopped there several hours, I found very little to interest me. There were not a few indications that it was a place where iniquity abounded. Though a place of considerable size, the institutions of the gospel have found very little foothold as yet. I was told, though I cannot vouch for the correctness of the account, that some time ago, when an effort was about being made to establish some religious society here, a public meeting was called, and they voted that they would have no such thing in their town. I hope they have come to a better mind before this.