About this time I was called to attend a funeral in one of the families that had gone out from the church the previous year, and were now members of the Wesleyan organization.  The next Sabbath morning this family and several others were in my congregation.  In the opening prayer I made the poor slave a special subject, as I often did.  At the close of the service, the head of one of the families came forward and stated that Mr. McKee, the Pastor of the Wesleyan Church, had gone to the Conference, and hence they were without services for a few Sabbaths.  But as for his part, he did not care if he never came back, for I was abolitionist enough for him.

In a few weeks Rev. T. Orbison was sent to the city, in the place of Mr. McKee.  After the first Sabbath, he called on me and said that he found his people quite disposed to return to the old Church, and that in consequence, he had dispensed with his services the previous evening, and attended our Church with them.  He was now inclined to advise them to return, as he saw no occasion for two organizations.  The leading members having previously decided to return, the balance now joined them in the movement, while those who had been gathered from other organizations, returned to their respective homes.

Brother Orbison, in coming to this country from Ireland, fell among the Wesleyans on his arrival, and became identified with them, supposing they were the same body he had left at home.  On learning his mistake, he now came over to us, and for many years was a worthy member of the Wisconsin Conference.  After doing faithful service for many years, and winning the esteem of all, he laid aside the armor and took up the everlasting crown of rejoicing.

The work of the year was now well begun.  The house was filled with people, the finances were in excellent condition, and everything indicated a year of special success, But how strangely light and shadow, hopes and fears, rejoicing and mourning commingle in this life!  While we were thus full of hope, and even exultant over the indications of a prosperous year, little did we imagine that we were then on the threshold of a deep affliction, arising from the sudden death of our Presiding Elder.

Brother Springer left the city to hold his Quarterly Meetings at Watertown and Oconomowoc, the writer accompanying him to the city limits.  On the 21st of August he closed his Quarterly Meeting services at Watertown, took dinner at the Parsonage with the Pastor, Rev. David Brooks, and then rode on to Oconomowoc.  He stopped for the night with Brother Worthington, ate sparingly, and retired at the usual time.  At three o’clock in the morning he was seized by the cholera.  The attack, severe at first, soon became alarming.  Medical aid was called, but without avail.  He lingered until six o’clock P.M., and passed away in great peace.  His family were sent for, but failed to reach him before his departure.  The Funeral Sermon was preached in the Spring Street Church by the writer, from Second Timothy, 4. 6-8.