THE institution known as the Indian Manual-Labor School, but more commonly called the "Methodist Mission," is the first missionary experiment upon a large scale of educating Indian youth, not only in common English literature, but in habits of industry and the duties of domestic life, by taking the entire control of them, boarding, lodging, clothing, and instructing them. Experience had shown that little could be accomplished by schools among them while the children remained with their parents, subject to all the caprices and irregularities of Indian life. This suggested the idea of a large establishment of the character referred to. A site was selected, appropriations made by the Missionary Society, aid obtained from the Government, buildings erected, a farm inclosed, and the institution had now been some years in successful operation. At the time of my visit it was under the superintendence of Rev. J. C. Berryman.

      The site is about two miles west of the Missouri State line, and about six miles from the point where this line strikes Missouri River. A better selection could scarcely have been found. The prairie lands lie well; timber is contiguous; the farm reaches to the great California thoroughfare; altogether it is one of the finest situations I have seen west of the Mississippi. The main buildings are of brick, large and commodious. Besides these there are mechanics' shops, in which the boys are instructed in handicraft labor. They are also employed upon the farm, while the girls are taught to sew, spin, weave, and perform all necessary

domestic avocations. About one hundred students were in attendance. All were orderly, and some had made a profession of Christianity. The school, though situated on the Shawnee lands, was designed for the benefit of all the contiguous tribes, and most of them shared in its benefits. The institution, so far as I could judge, had, up to that time, been well conducted, and had amply demonstrated the practicability and usefulness of the plan. A few slaves, even then, were, or had been, held by the preachers engaged at the institution; but it was apologized for as a temporary arrangement justified by peculiar circumstances, while the propriety of our General Rule was not questioned. Subsequent changes will appear in another part of this volume.

      At this place I was kindly entertained, and spent a few days in recruiting strength for the remainder of my journey and acquainting myself with the plans and operations of the institution, desiring to avail myself of their experience in founding our own, which was intended to be of the same character.

      In the immediate vicinity of this institution were two others of similar character, but upon a less extended scale one under the patronage of the Friends, and known as the "Quaker Mission," and the other conducted by the Baptists. Both were then doing a good work. The Baptists had erected a neat church edifice, and had a regular organization. Changes passed upon these also. Each of them had, in after years, "a history" in the struggles and convulsions then undreamed of; these will be noted in their proper place.

      In the afternoon previous to the 4th of July, the Superintendent set out with some forty of his pupils, male and female, to attend a Sunday school celebration at Independence. They had been well trained in vocal music by a competent instructor, and their presence was calculated greatly to highten (sic) the interest of such an occasion.

      Much suffering had been endured during the trip from a cause seemingly small; the simple bite of a tick upon my

side, which, becoming chafed and inflamed in the extreme heat, at length formed an abscess requiring the use of the lance. This operation over I was gradually relieved. This insect is exceedingly annoying in the region of the Arkansas. He fastens upon the body, buries his head in the flesh up to his shoulders, and, when torn away, often leaves it imbedded there. I have heard of a case resulting in death.

      My horse being much jaded I determined to put all on board a boat and go down to St. Louis by water. With this intent, upon the 4th of July, I removed to the bank of Missouri River, at a point then called "Kansas Landing," with a single log warehouse and dwelling, now known as "Kansas City," boasting a population of eight thousand, and commanding a large share of the trade of Kansas Territory and of the plains. Here I was detained several days in waiting. I find the following record of midnight vigils and reflections

      "A boat is expected down to-night. I am 'keeping watch.' The hour of midnight has almost arrived. Others around me are at rest. The moon-beams are playing beautifully upon the noble stream just before me. All is solemn silence and friendly to reflection . The result of all [my recent explorations] is a deeper conviction that the cause of missions is the cause of God, and an unwavering determination, if God point out the way, to be spent in this blessed work 'Since coming here I have seen a company of 'Mackinaw boats '--as they are called--from the Upper Missouri, freighted, with skins and furs, the property of the American Fur Company, as they glided rapidly down the stream. The world around us is busy. Shall we be less upon the alert in saving souls? Let it no longer be said that in this respect ' the children of this world are wiser in their generation than the children of light.' " Here I had my first taste of buffalo meat.

      At that time this point was almost the ne plus ultra of navigation on the Missouri, except to Government boats and those engaged in the fur trade. The Platte Purchase

had then just been annexed to Missouri and opened for settlement, and Weston, about fifty miles above Kansas Landing, was beginning to be heard of as the landing point for that inviting district of country.

      About seven o'clock on the morning of the 6th of July, I got my horse and buggy on beard the steamer "Edna," bound for St. Louis. Our boat was heavily freighted and made slow progress. On the afternoon of the 8th we ran aground upon a sand-bar about ten miles above Jefferson City. This was then a serious matter, the Missouri River boats having not then learned the art of "walking over bars upon stilts"--the use of spars--as they have since.

      The day following, being the Sabbath, I preached on board. The audience were solemn and attentive while I attempted to point them to the second coming of Christ as the great motive to Christian diligence and watchfulness. Just as our services closed the boat got under way, ran about twenty miles and grounded again, a little below the mouth of Osage River. Here we remained several days, and all efforts seemed to avail nothing. Heavy rains set in; the boat became damp; a large number of the passengers, myself among them, were seized with an epidemic influenza then prevailing all over the country; the Captain, incompetent and discouraged, concealed himself in his state-room; the passengers took to drinking, and a general row ensued: A few of the sober passengers, led on by myself, joined the crew in efforts to get off, worked at capstan in the rain, did all we could, but in vain. Our condition grew hourly worse by the washing of the current in the sands under the boat, as is the wont of this capricious river, thus letting her down further and further into the bar. My horse, a noble animal, suffered greatly. Deprived of food, by its having been put ashore through mistake; tied back near the fires so as to allow room for the hands to work, he was scorched and singed most piteously. A waggish young lawyer, in his cups, remarked in my hearing,

"I have no sympathy with any animal on board except that preacher and his horse."

      So things passed till the morning of the 10th, when a few men visiting the boat from the neighboring shore, I contracted with them to build a raft on the ensuing day, and attempt to convey my animal and carriage to land; choosing rather to run the hazard of drowning him than to murder him by slow tortures. The day following, however, a small steamer passing agreed to light us off. The first trip to land I took passage, and got my all safe to shore. My poor animal, on reaching terra firma, gave demonstrations of joy of which I had not conceived his species capable. I was about to harness up and risk a land journey the remainder of the way. Just at this crisis the Edna, lighted as she was, got under way and "rounded to." I could ill bear to be left behind. The thought of home after a long absence rushed upon me. An offer of seventy-five dollars was made for a fine horse with buggy and harness thrown in. A bargain was struck. Once more I got on board. A jolly Kentuckian, but a really kind-hearted man, volunteered to auction off my camp equipage and extra baggage among the crew and deck passengers, and soon, lightened of my burden, I was again under way for St. Louis, where, without further disaster or detention, we arrived on the 12th, about seven o'clock, P. M.

      It had been my purpose to go from St. Louis to the falls of Ohio by water, and thus obtain some rest in my extreme fatigue and indisposition. On arriving, however, I learned that the Eastern stage would start at three in the morning, and take me through in three days to my family. The motive was strong, and forgetting my incompetency for a hard stage ride of three days and nights, I engaged a passage, and lay down to rest a few hours upon the floor of a crowded hotel, no better accommodation being to be had; but, unwell as I was, little rest came.

      Long before the dawn of the next day we were over the Mississippi, wending our way across the American Bottom

en route for Indianapolis via Terre Haute. The day passed as well as could be expected in my plight. A few rough passengers were on board in the persons of Wabash flatboatmen returning from New Orleans. But having one gentlemanly passenger and a few ladies, it was easy for us to control the stage. Toward evening, however, these left us, and their places were supplied by a recruit of ruffians of the same stamp. This left me in a minority of one and gave then full sway; the drivers, as usual, being on their side. They were furnished with arms, music, and liquor, and spent the night in carousal, accompanied with the most disgusting profanity and obscenity. I appealed to them to desist out of compassion to my sickness, but this seemed only to add to the fury, till, making a virtue of necessity, I submitted and silently here all their indignities. Never have I passed another such night. I doubted much if I should not be murdered before the morning. It was not a little humiliating that, after having traveled thousands of miles by land and by water among civilized and uncivilized, here was a company of savages, claiming citizenship in my own State, more degraded and brutal than any I had encountered. 'Weary at length with their own revelry, or possibly relenting when they saw me almost sinking with sickness and exhaustion, they desisted and left me for a time in quiet. A little after daylight I was put out at a stage stand almost in an insensible state. Providence directed. The host, a clever Illinois farmer, proved to be a brother in the Church. I was well and kindly cared for. A physician was called, and I was not a little surprised to recognize in him one under whose ministry I had sat in boyhood; then a talented and promising young itinerant, and often a guest at my paternal home; now fallen, but kind and attentive in his professional services. 'Whether naturally or from medicine I know not, I fell into a profound sleep, which continued some twenty-four hours or more. This over, I felt relieved and invigorated, and by the morning of the 16th was able to resume my

Journey. On the afternoon of the 17th I arrived at Indianapolis, and found my family in health and comfort, after an absence of near four months, grateful to God for our mutual preservation, and to kind friends at Indianapolis for many good offices to mine during my absence. May Heaven reward them!

      I shall purposely pass briefly over the scenes that followed for months, only referring to them as a connecting link in my frontier work. Preparations were to be made for a removal and entering permanently on my field of labor. Preparatory to this supplies for our institution were to be purchased and shipped. Previous to my leaving Fort Coffee, an arrangement had been made with Major Armstrong, Superintendent of Indian Affairs and disbursing agent of the Government, that he should meet me at Cincinnati at an appointed time, on his way East, and furnish the requisite funds then due to our institution from the Department.

      A hasty trip to the lake region, my late field of labor, was made; private matters were adjusted; leave taken at Indianapolis; family removed to the Ohio River; intervals being taken up with sundry missionary meetings. At the day appointed I was in Cincinnati. But what was my disappointment and mortification to find that Maj. Armstrong had passed on to Washington without having made any deposit of funds, as stipulated! The reasons for this I never have known. Being a departure from his ordinary prompt habits, I can only infer that he desired to consult the Department at Washington before making his disbursements to us. Whatever may have been the reason, it was felt by me as a heavy blow. It was now the middle of August. My work in the West demanded my presence. My family were broken up from their home, and in the river towns, awaiting a passage. The dreaded season of low water and Fall sickness upon the Mississippi and Arkansas was approaching. Personally ready and anxious to go, I was now tied up by inevitable circumstances. To go without the needed

supplies was useless; and how long the painful detention was to be protracted none could conjecture Perhaps, too, a constitutional temperament, ill-fitted to bear needless delays and detentions, contributed to magnify the difficulties to my mind. A most unenviable state of suspense ensued. I wrote to Washington, and used all possible effort to reconcile myself to my fate.

      During the continuance of this period of suspense, time was filled up by occasional labors and brief trips on the Ohio River, and inland. While in Cincinnati I met with Rev. J. N. Maffitt, who had visited the city with the purpose of holding a series of meetings in Wesley Chapel, then under the pastoral charge of Rev. J. L. Grover. This place had, in former years, been the scene of one of Maffitt's most extraordinary successes. During the pastorate of Rev. E. W. Sehon, and with his zealous co-operation, he had labored there for a season; immense crowds had hung upon his ministry; an intense religious interest had been waked up, and a large addition made to the Church. I had known Maffitt in the days of his glory; had co-operated with him in my own charge, and elsewhere; had heard his overpowering eloquence, witnessed his sway over the multitudes, and seen valuable and lasting benefits from his labors; had known his weaknesses, and trembled for him amid the caresses and flatteries that surrounded him; had listened to his confidential tales of sorrow--admired, loved, and pitied him. Now it was painfully evident that his power was gone; he was shorn of his strength. I attended his meetings from time to time, and endeavored, as aforetime, to aid him; but all was in vain. He could neither command a full house, nor profitably entertain and influence the small number in attendance. This was the beginning of his failures. Poor Maffitt! I can scarcely yet think of him without a tear. I trust he died a penitent at the foot of the Cross

      During my stay, also, I took occasion to pay a brief visit to Bishop Soule, at his residence at Lebanon, Ohio, for the

purpose of consulting him in reference to our Indian work, then under his special charge, and, especially, of urging an immediate appointment to the Nun-na-wa-ya Institution, and a vigorous prosecution of that work. I found him only awaiting a suitable man on whom he could "lay his hands." My stay was passed with satisfaction and profit. Hitherto, I had known him only at Conference; at his own home I found him affable, cheerful, and communicative, yet grave and dignified; a little inclined--as is the wont of most old men--to speak of self, relate personal incidents, and anon, "shoulder his crutch and show how battles were fought and won;" but upon the whole a fine model of a Christian Bishop. He had just returned from filling up the work left unprovided for by the decease of Bishop Roberts, and was soon to enter upon his own. Little did he then dream of the position he was soon to occupy. With his heart really and fondly set upon the perpetuated unity of the Methodist Episcopal Church; attempting to conciliate one section by concession, and misjudging his power over the other, he went too far to recede. Ere he was aware, he found himself placed, beyond recovery, in a position never contemplated; one at which, with his previous opinions and feelings, he would have revolted.

      Nearly two months had now passed in suspense. The annual session of my own (Indiana) Conference was near at hand. No means had been furnished for the prosecution of my appointed work. The purpose was almost formed to attend the session at Crawfordsville, surrender up my Indian charge, decline a transfer, and ask an appointment in the home work. While meditating upon this, a messenger came to me at Jeffersonville, informing me that Maj. Armstrong had arrived in Louisville, and was awaiting me at a hotel. I saw him; received at his hands all that was needed, and was again prepared for action; not, however, without uncomfortable reflections over a blank of two months in the history of our work, forced upon me by the acts of others.

      At the session of the Indiana Conference referred to, being the last time that the whole body of preachers met together, I was transferred by Bishop Andrew to the Arkansas Conference; the Indian missions west of that State being then an appendage of that Conference. Here commenced a series of transfers, always unsought by me, arising solely from the desire of the appointing power to employ me in frontier work, and from the perpetually changing form of that work. It has had its successes, its joys; it has had its privations, its toils, its sorrows; but this day I would not, if I could, reverse that act; an act which in its results has changed the whole course of my life.

     ANOTHER scene of hurried preparation ensued. Some ten days were spent in Cincinnati and Louisville laying in stores for our institution, such as books, clothing, bedding, furniture, and provisions, with other necessaries for farming, building, etc. Passage and freight were engaged upon the Governor Morehead, a medium-sized boat, newly repaired and fitted up for the Arkansas trade. I got my Cincinnati freight on board, and on the 15th of October went to the Falls; spent some days in completing outfit and shipping goods at Louisville. On the 17th my family, consisting of my wife and five children, embarked at Jeffersonville. The falls were passed, and our steamer, with accustomed glee, was soon speeding her way down the noble Ohio. On board were thoughtful ones. Home, friends, associates, Church privileges were left behind. Before was life beyond the bounds of civilization, care, toil, privation, we knew not what, perhaps death. Still no murmur was heard, the cost had been counted.

      The Ohio and Mississippi Rivers were at a fine stage, and our steamer made good progress. The comfort of the passage to us, however, was greatly marred by the illness of Mrs. Goode, which continued nearly all the way. Divine grace sustained her under the affliction, and personal fortitude triumphed over constitutional debility and suffering, producing the utmost cheerfulness and resignation. Several pious persons were on board, and among them a number of ladies, by whose request the ladies' cabin was opened for daily religious devotions.

      We had not proceeded far till it was ascertained that we

were to be annoyed beyond measure in the person of the commander of the boat, Captain -----. Never, before or since, has it been my lot to fall under the control of just such a being. Surly, unaccommodating, tyrannical, he seemed disposed to plan rather for the discomfort than for the accommodation of his passengers. Even the table allowance was shortened as we progressed, till it became difficult to satisfy the demands of appetite, and especially to obtain food for children. Often was I reminded of the sea captain who so tormented Dr. Coke in one of his voyages to the West Indies. Still our progress was good, and we were consoled by the prospect of a speedy passage and early relief.

      Entering the Arkansas River at Napoleon, we found it at a very low stage, so that we proceeded with difficulty through forests of snags and over interminable sand-bars. Still no serious hinderance (sic) occurred till we had passed up over one hundred miles. About nine o'clock on the morning of the 23d, as we were passing Barrique's Bar, in a dangerous part of the river some twenty-five miles below Pine Bluffs, our boat struck a snag, opening a breach in her bottom. No violent shock being felt, and such jars being common, it was not apprehended that any injury had been sustained, and no examination was made till suddenly it was discovered that the hold was half filled with water and the boat going down; how deep no one knew. The indescribable sensation followed peculiar to such an announcement. Still there was no outcry, all was quiet. My first notice was from an elderly Episcopalian gentleman, who approached me and gently said, "I am told that the boat is sinking." It was immediately proposed that we go to the ladies' cabin, communicate the fact, and bring out the ladies and children to the forward deck, where they might have a full view of all. This was done. It was a fearful moment. None knew at what instant we should sink to a watery grave. Still all were firm and quiet. Not a woman or child of our company uttered an exclamation,

though the females of the deck passengers were fleeing aloft with piteous confusion and crying. The pilot was firm and self-possessed, Providence helped him, the course was changed, steam crowded, and in a little time we were grounded upon a bar whose shoals rendered us secure from danger, having, in the good providence of God, escaped this extreme "peril by water," with just experience enough to teach us how to appreciate the sensation preceding the last struggle of so many voyagers upon our Western waters.

      The panic over we were left to reflect upon our new position. The hold was found to be pretty well filled, and a large proportion of our freight submerged. Quite a large breach was found to have been made. A partial stoppage was effected, and, after a wearisome effort, by dint of pumping and bailing, the hold was emptied of water, the passengers joining heartily in the labor. The mechanics set to and effected a temporary repair, and it was determined to attempt to run to Little Rock, some one hundred and fifty miles further, and there lay up, refit, and dry our goods.

      Getting again under way we ran about twenty miles, when we were brought to a sudden pause by a bar, upon which the water was insufficient to bear us over. Here was no compromise, no alternative but to "tie up" and "wait for a rise;" to remain here upon the Lower Arkansas, at this sickly season, among musketoes (sic) and gallinippers, we knew not how long. The thought was dreary enough, but we bowed to the necessity. To add to our discomfiture rain set in, depriving us of an opportunity of drying our goods, and yet affording no prospect of relief, unless heavy above.

      But amid all our discouragements there was one relieving circumstance. Our Captain was brought to terms, at least with myself. He could collect no freight till our destination was reached, and his funds had run out, so that he was unable to pay the expenses of the boat. This rendered him dependent and submissive, an advantage of which I felt

perfectly justified in availing myself, at least so far as to secure reasonable treatment to myself and mine. He became civil and accommodating, and remained so till we parted.

      The point at which we were lying was the old Catholic settlement of St. Mary's, noticed in a former chapter, about five miles below Pine Bluffs. In the vicinity are some cotton plantations, owned mostly by French Catholics and their descendants. At one of these, under the care of an overseer, I applied for quarters where we might find some relief from the confinement of the boat, and room to dry our goods, Mrs. Goode still being quite sick. This overseer was kind and humane--at least to white men--and consented to take us in. On the 25th we removed my family and goods. The latter we found to be in a sad plight. Every thing capable of injury by water had suffered. Our supply of flour was damaged so that we were obliged to sell it at once. My library was a perfect wreck. Some days were spent in the drying process, and additional loss of goods was sustained by fire and by theft.

      During our stay we had some opportunity of enlarging our observations of the practical workings of slavery. With its milder forms, as it exists in the Border States, we were already familiar; but here it was seen in a type to us new. It was the season of gathering in the cotton crop. Early in the morning the gang of slaves, men, women, and children, such as were able for the task, were marched off to the snow-white fields, each with a sack, into which the pods of ripe cotton were cast as they were plucked from the stem by the hand, leaving the unripe portion for another, and another, and still another plucking. Late in the evening they returned to their cabins and rested, to repeat the same toilsome round again and again during the season. The overseer, our host, I have before spoken of as apparently a humane man. Education and habit, however, had taught him lessons of negro inferiority and endurance. To preserve his place he must act in conformity with the code,

and exact the labor to the uttermost. I never personally witnessed a castigation, but in my absence, the sound of the lash and the shrieks of the slave, heard by my sick wife, affected her greatly. Born and reared, as she had been, among slaves, and in early life always personally surrounded by them, yet she had never seen it after this fashion; and in her then debilitated state it was too much for her to bear.

      An incident occurred during our stay at this place which had well-nigh made me a slave-owner. The narration may subject me to the imputation of want of judgment or of consistency; but if it serve to pay an incidental tribute to the superior discretion and foresight of one then at my side, but now among the spirits before the Throne, I am content.

      On one fine Sabbath morning of our stay on the plantation, desirous of being profitably employed, I proposed to ride up to the village of Pine Bluffs, try to collect a congregation, and spend the day in religious service. Our host very readily arranged that I should be accompanied by a likely young negro man, who should show me the way and render all needful attentions, according to the custom of the country. On our way up I entered into conversation with the "boy," and found him not only sprightly and intelligent, but seemingly pious. Arriving at the place, after introducing me to a religions family, he undertook the task of raising me a congregation, which his acquaintance with the people and their confidence in him enabled him easily to accomplish. The services over, and our brief hospitalities enjoyed, we returned. On our way down the following train of unspoken reflections was waked up in my mind. "Is there not now presented an opportunity of performing an act of humanity? This young man is industrious, sprightly, pious. He is a slave, with no hope of relief if he remain here. May not I purchase him, pay for him, become his owner, take him with me to the Indian country, employ him at our mission, have

him travel with me when safety or comfort may require it, better his immediate condition, make him useful to myself and the institution till his labor shall have repaid the price advanced for him, and then manumit him and leave him a free man the rest of his days?" The reasoning seemed plausible, and commended itself to me with great force. The first opportunity I communicated the suggestion to her whose private counsel I never deemed it unmanly to ask, and never regretted following. With characteristic modesty and gentleness she replied: "I think we had better let it alone."

      On further reflection I acquiesced in the opinion, and subsequent observation has confirmed its correctness. The humanity and purity of the motive I can not question, nor, indeed, the lawfulness and strict Christian morality of the act contemplated. But its positive inexpediency has, to my mind, been settled by unquestionable facts. Many, no doubt, have begun in this way, and have ended practical and theoretical slaveholders. I could myself name men, Christian men, Christian ministers, who, a score of years ago, apologized for holding a few slaves, under peculiar circumstances, that are now enrolled among the stanchest (sic) defenders of the system. I might have proven as weak as they, and, ere I was aware, have been inextricably entangled in the net so plausibly laid and interwoven with all the social frame-work of the South. Even had not this been the case, had the plan been persisted in and the scheme consummated in the ultimate freedom of a single slave, still the influence of example would, meantime, have been lent to the wrong--example unexplained and often willfully misrepresented. "That negro belongs to the mission;" "That is Parson K.'s negro;" are remarks that have more than once been made to serve the cause of oppression, however merciful the ultimate design of the relation. I speak from facts personally known to myself. "Touch not, taste not," is the only safety.

      An incident of later years may serve to illustrate the
     10

stealthy change which circumstances sometimes gradually effect upon the minds of those in actual, every-day contact with the peculiar institution. It may, at the same time, aid to explain the much-wondered-at fact that so many once opposed to slavery become, upon a change of residence, its most strenuous advocates in word and deed.

      Among the exciting scenes that were acted out upon the Missouri River steamers, during the recent Kansas struggle, it was my lot repeatedly to pass up and down and to witness much imbittered feeling and some bloodshed. Forming an agreeable acquaintance, upon a certain downward trip, with a young Presbyterian clergyman of -----, I was introduced by him to a venerable old Scotchman, a resident of the State of -----, a member, and perhaps an elder, of the same Church. I learned him to be a man of wealth, a slaveholder, then just starting on a visit to his native land. I found him intelligent, peculiarly bland and gentle in his manners, and, withal, quite free to converse mildly and calmly on the then interdicted subject. In the course of conversation he stated to me, with much apparent frankness, the change that had been effected in his own feelings and sentiments upon the subject of slavery. "When," said he, "I first came where I saw Africans held in bondage I was greatly affected. All my sympathies were roused. I felt as though I could weep over them. But by degrees I became more familiar with the system. Its horrors were taken away. I saw in it something so pa-tri-arch-al, so pa-ter-nal, [emphasizing every syllable,] that my whole feelings and sentiments underwent a change." Somehow or other, it afterward came to me that the tender-hearted old gentleman had married a lady of large estate. What influence her personal charms and legal rights may have had in producing his mental revolutions may be matter of conjecture. So it is, closely interwoven in all the texture of society where it exists, fixing the social status of every man and woman. Hence much of its power.

      We return from this digression to our quondam place

upon the low banks of the Arkansas, with its social and ecclesiastical institutions, its canebrakes, wolves, musketoes (sic), and miasmas, our damaged goods, damaged boat, low water, and little prospect of relief. But soon another cause of disquietude arose. One of the two joint proprietors of the plantation resided in Pine Bluffs, and was wont to pay frequent visits to the quarters, and look to his interests there. These had been suspended since myself and family had been taken in. Our host grew uneasy lest his landlord might be offended. His place was, perhaps, jeoparded (sic) by his receiving and entertaining us. We knew no cause for dissatisfaction, as I made full pecuniary compensation, unless his Catholic ire had been roused by having a heretic family on his premises, and especially my having had the temerity to preach on the plantation to all the whites and blacks I could assemble. So it was, my host thought best to see and know bow the matter stood. Desirous of having some hand in fixing my own fate, or, at least, of knowing it, as early as possible, I accompanied him. An interview was had with him, first by the overseer, then by myself. All was understood; the conjectures had been well-founded; he was displeased; remonstrances were in vain; a day was fixed, and that an early one, by which we were desired to leave.

      Here was a new trial. Turned out of doors with wife and little ones, the former still sick, in this unhealthy, inhospitable region, with no earthly prospect of shelter or relief, the influences all around being of the same character, faith and patience were, for the time, put to a severe test and I need hardly say how great the temptation is at such moments to self-reproach--charging one's self with rashness, imprudence, and even cruelty to loved ones, in thus exposing them. To look back: "I have undertaken too much;" "What I forfeit for myself is a trifle; but these--what have they done?" How many such reflections does memory call up! But God is good, and takes tender care of all who trust in him. This was soon strangely manifest.

      Our sentence of expulsion received, the next step was to return and communicate it. Truly I felt that I "had no more place in these parts;" but, then, whither should I go? Pensively I turned my steps, leading my horse down to the bank of the river, which was to be crossed in our return. There I stood, musing upon what seemed to have befallen us, as the ferry-flat approached with some passengers from the other shore. The boat came to. A plain, farmer-looking man, with frank expression of countenance, stepped on shore and addressed us. "I am told," said he, "that there is a Methodist preacher and family on that steamboat, and I have come after them." God bless him! The tears fill my eyes after near a score of years as I recur to the scene. I was pointed out to him. A warm, cordial grasp of the hand, with benevolence outspoken from his countenance, told me at once that all was right. "Come," said he, "I live upon the river, about eight miles distant. I have brought a skiff to take you and family to my house. They can remain there till the river rises. You can go on by land. I will see your family and goods on the boat, and, if need be, will accompany them up." I need scarcely add that such an offer was gratefully accepted, and that nightfall found me and mine under a friendly roof, receiving the timely attentions of a kind Christian family.

      Tell me not that God has no special providence over his children. Too often have I had evidence of immediate Divine interposition to allow a doubt. But for this, life itself had not, thus far, been prolonged.

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