On Tuesday, November 21, we stayed with William Gassoway, a noble old preacher, universally esteemed. He joined as early as 1788. He was William Capers’s first colleague. We had a very severe snow-storm. It was cold and chilly, and we reached Waxsaw and put up with Robert Hancock. Almost every prominent Methodist man had a meeting-house named after him: so we had a “Hancock Chapel.” On Saturday I preached in this chapel on John xiii, 35, and Brother William Capers followed with a charming exhortation. The bishop preached the next day in the chapel. “The next day on the south side of the Catawba river, piloted by Brother William Capers, who is a promising young man about twenty.” So I wrote over fifty years ago. We had a delightful interview with Capers at Robert Hancock’s, as well as the privilege of traveling with him many days. William Capers, in his Autobiography, (pp. 113-115,) has described what took place at Robert Hancock’s, and made such honorable mention of Bishop Asbury and his traveling companion that I transcribe it for my work now the writer is in his grave: “At the close of the year 1809 Bishop Asbury passed through my circuit on his way to conference, and it was arranged for me to meet him at Waxsaw, (General Jackson’s birthplace,) and attend him along a somewhat circuitous route to Camden. I met him at the house of that most estimable man and worthy local preacher, Robert Hancock, who had been more than a friend to me, even a father, from the beginning. The bishop was then accompanied by the Rev. Henry Boehm as his traveling companion, so long afterward known in the Philadelphia Conference as one of the purest and best of Methodist ministers, and whose society I found to be as ‘the dew of Hermon.’ This was the last of my itinerant year on the Wateree Circuit; and as I have had quite enough of the disagreeable in my account of it, I will end the chapter (perhaps more to your liking) with an anecdote of my first night and last night on the trip with the bishop. I met him when a heavy snow had just fallen, and the north-west wind blowing hard made it extremely cold. The snow had not been expected, and our host was out of wood, so that we had to use what had been picked up from under the snow, and was damp and incombustible. Our bed-room was aloft, with a fireplace in it, and plenty of wood; but how to make the wood burn was the question. I had been at work blowing and blowing long before bed-time, till, to my mortification, the aged bishop came up, and there was still no fire to warm him. ‘O Billy, sugar,’ said he as he approached the fireplace, ‘never mind it; give it up; we will get warm in bed.’ And then stepping to his bed as if to ascertain the certainty of it, and lifting the bed-clothes, he continued, ‘yes, yes, give it up, sugar; blankets are plenty.’ So I gave it up, thinking the play of my pretty strong lungs might disturb his devotions, for he was instantly on his knees.