between my guide and
instructor, and the difficult work committed to my charge. Thought was
busy. An oppressive sense of my own insufficiency for so momentous a
work, came over me, as it had done before, but never in such
overwhelming power. I was now face to face with the great work from
which I had shrank for several years, and there was no retreat.
Imagination lifted the little hills of difficulty before me into
mountains that seemed impassable. In the deep shade of the wood I found
a moss-covered rock for a seat, and gave myself up to reflection. The
troubled currents of the stream ran on this wise. To go forward in my
present undertaking may involve a committal to a work that a few short
months shall not terminate. In such case, there will follow a life of
toil and sacrifice, on stinted allowance, beset with trials and
perplexities, and clouded by cold unfeeling criticisms, censures and
misjudgings, of both motive and labor, of which I can now entertain no
adequate conception. But if this work be not the dictate of duty, then
why this unrest of soul which has so long disturbed the even flow of my
religious life, or why the uniform urgency of the authorities of the
church both east and west in this direction? On the contrary, if my feet
are now in the path of duty then why hesitate? A brave soul never
falters in the presence of difficulty or peril, but always deals the
strongest blows where the conflict rages the sharpest. The struggle was
brief and the result satisfactory. Kneeling by the side of the rock,
prayer was offered for Divine guidance and help, and there fell on the
soul a baptism of serene peace and holy joy, which hallowed each
remaining step of the journey.

Arriving at Brothertown the letter of introduction from the Elder was
presented to A.D. Dick, Esq., one of the Stewards. The residence of
this brother was located in the central portion of the town, and gave
evidence of good taste and comfort. Both himself and wife were members
of the church, and their house the home of Itinerants. It was now nearly
twelve o'clock. I was invited to the parlor where I awaited dinner.
These few moments afforded an opportunity to survey my surroundings and
master the situation. My early reading had introduced me to the Indian,
both in his native wilds and as seen on the borders of civilization, the
former as the noblest specimen of the natural man on the planet, and the
latter as the most degraded of mortals. But now