time of the May meetings in New York. Clergymen and others were on East from various parts of the West. In several instances, however, she failed of the company she hoped for, by what seemed singular providences. And at last it was her lot to come West under the protection of Rev. Dyer Burgess, of West Union, Ohio. Mr. Burgess was what was called in those days “a rabid abolitionist,” and had taken a fancy to help me along, because, as he said, I was “of the same craft.” And so it was that during his absence I was living in his family. This is the way in which the threads of our two lives, Mary’s and mine, were brought together. A year and a half after this I was licensed to preach the gospel by the Chillicothe Presbytery, and we were on our way to her mountain home in Massachusetts.

Before starting for New England, the general plan of our life-work was arranged. Early in my course of education, I had considered the claims of the heathen upon us Christians, and upon myself personally as a believer in Christ; and, with very little hesitation or delay, the decision had been reached that, God willing, I would go somewhere among the unevangelized. And, during the years of my preparation, there never came to me a doubt of the rightness of my decision. Nay, more, at the end of forty years’ work, I am abundantly satisfied with the way in which the Lord has led me. If China had been then open to the gospel, as it was twenty years afterward, I probably should have elected to go there. But Dr. Thomas S. Williamson of Ripley, Ohio, had started for the Dakota field the same year that I graduated from college. His representations of the needs of these aborigines, and the starting out of Whitman and Spalding with their wives to the Indians of the Pacific coast, attracted me to the westward. And Mary was quite willing, if not enthusiastic, to commence a life-work among the Indians of the North-west, which at that time involved more of sacrifice than service in many a far-off foreign field. Hitherto, the evangelization of our own North American Indians had been, and still is, in most parts of the field, essentially a foreign mission work. It has differed little, except, perhaps, in the element of greater self-sacrifice, from the work in India, China, or Japan. And so, with a mutual good understanding of the general plan of life’s campaign, with very little appreciation of what its difficulties might be, but with a good faith in ourselves, and more faith in Him who has said, “Lo, I am with you all days,” Mary left her school in Bethlehem, to which she had become a felt necessity, and I gathered up such credentials as were necessary to the consummation of our acceptance as missionaries of the American Board of Commissioners for Foreign Missions, and we went eastward.

Railroads had hardly been thought of in those days, and so what part of the way we were not carried by steamboats, we rode in stages. It was only the day before Thanksgiving, and a stormy evening it was, when we hired a very ordinary one-horse wagon to carry us and our baggage from Charlemont up to Hawley. I need not say that in the old house at home the sister and the daughter and granddaughter found a warm reception, and I, the western stranger, was not long overlooked. It was indeed a special Thanksgiving and time of family rejoicing, when the married sister and her family were gathered, with the brothers, Alfred and Moses and Thomas and Joseph, and the little sister Henrietta, and the parents and grandparents, then still living. Since that time, one by one, they have gone to the beautiful land above, and only two remain.

Well, the winter, with its terrible storms and deep snows, soon passed by. It was all too short for Mary’s preparation. I found work waiting for me in preaching to the little church in West Hawley. They were a primitive people, with but little of what is called wealth, but with generous hearts; and the three months I spent with them were profitable to me.

On the 16th of February, 1837, there was a great gathering in the old meeting-house on the hill; and, after the service was over, Mary and I received the congratulations of hosts of friends. Soon after this the time of our departure came. The snow-drifts were still deep on the hills when, in the first days of March, we commenced our hegira to the far West. It was a long and toilsome journey—all the way to New York City by stage, and then again from Philadelphia across the mountains to Pittsburg in the same manner, through the March rains and mud, we travelled on, day and night. It was quite a relief to sleep and glide down the beautiful Ohio on a steamer. And there we found friends in Portsmouth and Ripley and West Union, with whom we rested, and by whom we were refreshed, and who greatly forwarded our preparations for life among the Indians.

Of the journey Mary wrote, under date City of Penn, March 3, 1837: “We were surprised to find sleighing here, when there was little at Hartford and none at New Haven and New York. We expect to spend the Sabbath here; and may the Lord bless the detention to ourselves and others. Oh, for a heart more engaged to labor by the way—to labor any and everywhere.”

In West Union, Ohio, she writes from Anti-Slavery Palace, April 5: “Brother Joseph Riggs made us some valuable presents. His kindness supplied my lack of a good English merino, and Sister Riggs had prepared her donation and laid it by, as the Apostle directs,—one pair of warm blankets, sheets and pillow-cases. My new nieces also seemed to partake of the same kind spirit, and gave us valuable mementos of their affection.

“We found Mrs. Burgess not behind, and perhaps before most of our friends, in her plans and gifts. Besides a cooking-stove and furniture, she has provided a fine blanket and comforter, sheets, pillow-cases, towels, dried peaches, etc. Perhaps you will fear that with so many kind friends we shall be furnished with too many comforts. Pray, then, that we may be kept very humble, and receive these blessings thankfully from the Giver of every good and perfect gift.”

Mrs. Isabella Burgess, the wife of my friend Rev. Dyer Burgess, we put into lasting remembrance by the name we gave to our first daughter, who is now living by the great wall of China. By and by we found ourselves furnished with such things as we supposed we should need for a year to come, and we bade adieu to our Ohio friends, and embarked at Cincinnati for St. Louis.

“Steamer Isabella, Thursday Eve, May 4.

“We have been highly favored thus far on our way down the Ohio. We took a last look of Indiana about noon, and saw the waters of the separating Wabash join those of the Ohio, and yet flow on without commingling for ten or twelve miles, marking their course by their blue tint and purer shade. The banks are much lower here than nearer the source, sometimes gently sloping to the water’s edge, and bearing such marks of inundation as trunks and roots of trees half imbedded in the sand, or cast higher up on the shore. At intervals we passed some beautiful bluffs, not very high, but very verdant, and others more precipitous. Bold, craggy rocks, with evergreen-tufted tops, and a few dwarf stragglers on their sides. One of them contained a cave, apparently dark enough for deeds of darkest hue, and probably it may have witnessed many perpetrated by those daring bandits that prowled about these bluffs during the early settlement of Illinois.

“Friday Eve.—This morning, when we awoke, we found ourselves in the muddy waters of the broad Mississippi. They are quite as muddy as those of a shallow pond after a severe shower. We drink it, however, and find the taste not quite as unpleasant as one might