In the latter part of March he passed on, in much weakness, to Philadelphia, the seat of the General Conference. There he lodged in the family of his old and well-tried friend, Dr. Sargent; and all that kindness and unremitting attention could do for his case was cheerfully done. He was, however, very feeble, and was not able to be present and open the first session, which duty devolved on Bishop Soule. He visited the Conference room as often as his strength would allow.

The Conference continued him in his supernumerary relation with an expression of their high regard. Indeed, all the members seemed to vie with each other in manifesting their affection for him. When the General Conference was about to close, he took leave of the preachers, expecting to meet them no more until they should sit down together in his Father's kingdom. Dr. Bangs says: "Like a patriarch in the midst of his family, with his head silvered over with the frosts of seventy-five winters, and a countenance beaming with intelligence and good-will, he delivered his valedictory remarks, which are remembered with lively emotions. Rising from his seat to take his departure the day before the Conference adjourned, he halted for a moment, leaning on his staff; with faltering lips, his eyes swimming with tears, he said: 'My brethren and children, love one another. Let all things be done without strife or vain-glory, and strive to keep the unity of the Spirit in the bonds of peace.' He then spread forth his trembling hands, and lifting his eyes toward the heavens, pronounced, with faltering and affectionate accents, the apostolic benediction."

They all gazed upon his bowed and feeble form as he passed from their midst, and felt but too fearful forebodings that he was present in this situation for the last time.

Prayers and tears marked his exit, but there was joy in his heart-the joy of a weary labourer who feels that the sun has well-nigh approached the horizon, and that its setting will bring him the sweetest repose.

Immediately after the General Conference Bishop M'Kendree returned to Baltimore and rested a few weeks, enjoying the conversation and society of his old friends, with whom, in years before, he had spent many pleasant hours of religious communion. He bade them farewell at last, and set his face westward. He pushed on as fast as his bodily strength would permit, crossing the mountains for the last time. His route was much like those which he had taken in the days of his strength and manhood. He passed through the western part of Pennsylvania, along the northern part of Virginia, through Ohio and Kentucky, into Tennessee, where he spent the remainder of the year. During the latter part of his journey he became very feeble, and it was found necessary to fix a bed in his carriage on which he might lie down, for he was unable to sit upon the seat.

The following year he was not quite as strong as usual, and therefore he was not found far from home; but he was quite efficient in labours in West Tennessee. He would visit many societies, full of the old itinerant spirit, and preach with an ability which astonished all his hearers; for his sermons were rich in thought and illustration, and in the power and demonstration of the Spirit.

In January, 1834, with an improved state of health, he made a southern tour, visiting Natchez, New-Orleans, and Woodville, passing from these various points on a steamboat. He preached on board the boat, and in the several places he visited, with an energy and efficiency that re

minded his hearers of his former years. In the spring of this year he returned to Nashville, and spent the whole summer in travelling through Tennessee, visiting and preaching in different places. He attended the session of the Tennessee Conference, in Lebanon, in the early part of November. This was the last time that he was present at the session of an Annual Conference, and he closed his labours with an affecting address.

Returning to Nashville, he preached his last sermon there, in the new church, on Sabbath, November 23d: this sermon was reported from his lips, and formed the first number of the Western Methodist Preacher. Bishop Soule, speaking of this, his last public service, says, feelingly:

"Here that penetrating, yet pleasant voice, which had been heard with delight by listening thousands, in almost all the populous cities of the United States, and which had sounded forth the glad tidings of salvation in the cabins of the poor on the remote frontier, or to numerous multitudes gathered together in the forests of the western territories, and which savage tribes had heard proclaiming to them the unsearchable riches of Christ, died away to be heard Here he finished the ministration of the words of eternal life, and closed his public testimony for the truth of the revelation of God."

no more.

Immediately after this effort his health declined much below its usually feeble state; and showing no signs of recovery, he concluded, in the latter part of December, to visit his brother, Dr. James M'Kendree, in Sumner County. He reached the place of his destination about Christmas.

Although the feebleness of age seemed to be his chief

affliction, he was not without bodily pain. The forefinger of his right hand became affected singularly by a swelling where he held his pen while writing. This became exceedingly painful, affecting especially the back part of his head, and when submitted to medical treatment it mocked all the skill of the physician. In moments of acute pain he would pray to God, and call upon those present to assist him in praying that the pain might cease; and often at the close of the prayer the bishop would sink into slumber, the pain having ceased. Such was his faith in God, that when medical skill failed he made prayer his continual remedy.

One who was present with him during his last days, says: "In one instance he told a friend and neighbour that he wished him to pray with him on account of his pain. 'Not,' said he, 'as you pray in your family, but in faith, with direct reference to my case.' After prayer the bishop smiled, raised his hand, and said, 'It is easy now.' This was about two weeks before his death."

It soon became evident to all that his pilgrimage was rapidly drawing to a close; his strength was completely prostrated, and his voice was so feeble that he could only whisper, and that with the greatest difficulty at times. He had for a long time been subject to asthmatic complaints, which now increased, and he was often seized with severe fits of coughing, when he seemed to hold life by a frail tenure. Had it not been for the faithful attendance of his relatives, his situation would have been very painful; but he had every attention.

"His interesting sister was ever at his bedside, where her 'post of observation' had oftentimes been before-for many times before this had the bishop gone home to die. His kind, affectionate, and engaging niece seemed for weeks

to have risen above the want of sleep, as she watched nights and days away at his pillow. The bishop was so affected by her kind attention, that he would say to her, 'Frances, you are like a lamp; you wake when I sleep, to shine on me when I wake.'

Bishop M'Kendree often had fears that he should be called to die away from his dearest friends and relatives. He greatly desired to die at his brother's; and as the preceding paragraph intimates, he had more than once gone to his brother's expecting not to return again to the busy scenes of duty. And now, when it seemed certain that the hour of his departure was near at hand, he ordered that the bedstead on which his father had died some years before should be brought in, as he wished to die where he had died; and here he awaited the coming of death.

On Sabbath, the first of March, it became so evident that mortality would soon be swallowed up in immortality, that his brother made known to him the opinion of physicians respecting his situation, and questioned him in regard to his last desires. Their conference was at first broken off by a severe fit of coughing, but he presently recovered and made a signal with his hand that he was ready to speak. His voice was so faint that it was necessary that his nephew, Dudley M'Kendree, should lean over him to receive the communications.

The bishop spoke first with regard to the state of his soul, and said, "All is well for time or for eternity. I live by faith in the Son of God. For me to live is Christ-to die is gain." This in the most emphatic manner he repeated, "I wish that point perfectly understood that all is well with me whether I live or die. For two months I have not had a cloud to darken my hope; I have had uninterrupted