The next day was the Fourth of July, and although the bishop and I were both patriotic, and lovers of freedom, we spent, as he expresses it, “_a solitary Fourth of July_” at Widow Henthorn’s. The bishop always planned his work far ahead, and when he came to a conference he had but to carry out his plan. That day he drafted conference plans as far as Baltimore, and the next day, besides reading Thomas à Kempis, he copied off a list of preachers for the western and southern conferences. It was method that enabled the great Asbury to accomplish so much. The bishop writes: “Brother Boehm spoke to the people in English and German.” Rheumatism troubled the old gentleman, and the incessant rain for four days kept him a prisoner, and he found the confinement irksome. Here we saw Edward Dromgoole, one of the early preachers. He joined at the third conference, 1775. He was now returning from the West, and he gave a flaming description of the camp-meetings that had been held there. We journeyed on to Connellsville. Here we had a new house of worship, or rather a part of one. The bishop preached and dedicated the walls of the church, for at that time it was roofless. I held forth in German. This I did in almost every place. The next day we went to the splendid mansion of Colonel Mason, and were entertained like princes. During this route the bishop suffered all but martyrdom. He was exceedingly lame, his feet being greatly inflamed, and he had been blistered; and yet he would press on amid the intense heat of July, that almost overcame him. We met Asa Shinn, author of “Shinn on Salvation.” He was a man of splendid talents; an excellent metaphysician. The bishop conversed with him about being removed to Baltimore. Mr. Shinn finally went off with the Reformers, and died deranged in an asylum. It is supposed his deep studying had much to do with unbalancing his mind; but at one time he was a mighty man in our Israel. It was pitiful to see the old bishop hobbling on his crutches into church at Brownsville on Sabbath July 17. There, like his Master, he sat down and preached. His subject was God’s design in sending his Son into the world. The next day we rode to John Brightwell’s. The bishop says: “I had an awfully severe ride. I am fairly arrested in my course. My knees and feet are so disabled that I am lifted to bed. I can neither ride, stand, nor walk.” What a painful record! And what does the reader think of his companion, who had to lift the bishop out of bed, bathe his limbs, dress his blisters, and nurse him like a child. I left him for a while and went to fill his appointments, while the family kindly took care of him.