But affection has displayed itself in another form. Not a few of the graves are enclosed by a little fence, painted beautifully white, and the graves are adorned with wild roses which scatter their fragrance and leaves over the place where rests the mouldered dust beneath. When I first entered this sacred enclosure, and trod through the high tangled gra.s.s that grew here, I felt at each step that I was treading on holy ground. I was led to a spot where rested the mortal part of one whose image came up before me with the vividness of living reality. The long gra.s.s had grown, and become matted over her grave! Fifteen years had elapsed since I had looked upon that dear form, that rested in unbreathing stillness below. During this period I had pa.s.sed through many trying scenes and often drank deep into the cup of sorrow. And now with the image of this dear departed one, all of "life's troubled dream" rose up before me with a power that paralyzed every effort I made to subdue or control my feelings. I then _felt_ and wept like a child. Why should I not have done so? I was standing on the grave of the sister of my childhood, whose existence and mine for many years had run along together as though our being had been woven in the same web. I remembered how when I was but a very little child, she led me to the country school--how we wandered together in playful glee on the green bank of the Housatonic, and her hand gathered for me the wild flowers that grew there. I remembered how in the wild buoyancy of childhood we strolled together through the orchard, and gathered fruit from a favourite tree?

With what kind looks and affectionate greeting our dear mother met us when we returned from such a ramble. And could I then fail to remember the sad hour when that dear sainted mother gasping in the agonies of death bade us all a long farewell? When a mother's kind eye no longer gazed upon me, was it not natural that my heart should turn with deeper and stronger affection to the sister of my childhood? But where was she? She no more came, bounding along with sparkling eyes, and flowing locks, and animated features at the call of her brother. There she lay sleeping, oh how silently, how profoundly in the grave! The solitude and stillness of the mighty prairie were around me. No mortal was present to witness or intermeddle with the feelings or overflowings of my heart, save him who recognised in this heaped hillock of earth the resting place of the loved one of his heart--the wife of his youth--the mother of his children.

Together we bowed down there in silent grief? Our hearts were so full that we could do nothing but mingle our tears together over that sacred spot, which I would again travel all the way from the Atlantic to the Mississippi to look upon! A thought full of light and glory, however, darted across my mind as I bent over that grave. I remembered that this dear sister had closed her eyes upon this mortal scene, full of faith, full of trust in Christ, and of calm resignation to his blessed will. I recollected the words of my Saviour, and his promise to raise the dead. This recollection chased away my tears, and brought a flood of heavenly radiance down upon that grave. I said, "my sister shall rise again." "The Lord Jesus will bring her with him." This is his promise.

The last time I visited this grave, I brought away a little flower that bloomed on it. It has already faded--but that glorious body which Christ will give to that dear mouldered form will never fade, but bloom on in immortal youth, through the unending ages of eternity. Oh, how happy shall we be, when we have pa.s.sed all these gloomy scenes that now surround us, and stand in the midst of that "land where the inhabitants no more say I am sick"--when we shall have done with sin, and behold the Redeemer in all his glory! May the Lord safely bring us there.

CHAPTER X.

ILLINOIS AND THE LAKES.

Lead mines--Indian treaty--Ride to Chicago--Vast prairies--The stricken family--Amusing Adventures--Chicago--Milwaukie--Mackinaw--Indian encampment.

We spent one day during the present week in pa.s.sing through the mining country to visit several of the diggings in Wisconsin, and around Galena, and also the smelting furnaces, where the mineral is extracted from the ore and cast into pigs. The country through which we pa.s.sed was one continued series of rolling prairies. It was perfectly enchanting to see what a perfect flower garden was before us wherever we went.

We descended a mine which had been sunk about one hundred feet. The lead runs in veins either due north and south, or west and east. Veins frequently cross each other at right angles. If it is a north and south vein, and a good one--and crosses an east and west vein, it becomes inferior from that point, and the other a.s.sumes a superior character, and usually is the best lead. The way the miners dig the lead is to pierce down perpendicularly till they get to the bottom of the sheet--then take the base out and dig upwards. The lead is usually wedged in between two ledges of rocks, filling up the crevice, which runs down from fifty to one hundred feet. It is frequently wedged in so tight that the rocks have to be blasted to loosen it. I went down about fifty feet where they were at work, and then pa.s.sed along in a horizontal direction, about eighty feet, where the miners were knocking out the lead in the fissures in the rocks over their heads. We loitered around the mines till the decline of day. The shades of evening gathered over us before we had crossed the last prairie on our way to Galena. The moon was just climbing above the horizon, when a prairie wolf darted across our path, as though scared by the sound of our carriage wheels, but having run a few rods, turned around to look to see who were the intruders upon his domain.

An Indian treaty is about negotiating at St. Peters, and a steamer started from here a few days since to carry up a party who desire to be present at this gathering of the wild men, and to visit the majestic and stupendous scenery around St. Anthony's Falls. I had fully intended to have been one of the party, but on the eve of starting I felt myself forced for want of time to forego the excursion.

_The Steamer James Madison, Wednesday Evening, June 19th._

At early dawn, on Monday last, we crossed Fevre river, and started for Chicago in an open lumber wagon, 'ycleped a stage. Taking our trunks for seats, we determined we would make the best of every thing, and if possible keep up good spirits, while we learned the manner in which people travel through new countries. Our journey, though attended with no little fatigue, was like a walk over the rosied path of pleasure, compared with a jaunt of which Bishop Kemper gave me an account. He had made an appointment somewhere in the interior of Indiana, where it was necessary for him to be at a given day, and had undertaken to pa.s.s over Illinois from St. Louis to that point by land. He was overtaken by rain which continued a day or two: the streams became swollen, and the roads, often for miles, completely overflown. All this time he was obliged to ride in an open wagon, the bottom boards of which were loose, and often slipping out, rendering it necessary for him every now and then to get out, and stand in the mud and water, till the rickety wagon could be again brought into a state of temporary order. During the last part of his journey he rode all night with the rain pouring down upon him, and the horses sometimes fording deep creeks--sometimes plunging into sloughs, and then wading for miles through the water which had overflowed the road. The office of a missionary Bishop at the west, if he does his duty, and throws himself with all his heart into the work, is no sinecure.

Our course from Galena, for the first thirty miles, was through beautiful oak openings, and over a rolling prairie. After this, on nearly to Chicago, our path lay through a magnificent, level prairie country. The wide sea of gra.s.s around us was now and then broken by a grove, springing up with luxuriance and beauty amid the treeless tract of country that stretched around on every side. These groves are points of great interest, and are spoken of by the spa.r.s.ely scattered inhabitants of northern Illinois, as we speak of cities and towns. The most beautiful of those which we pa.s.sed were Buffalo, Inlet, and Paw Paw groves, around or near which were scenes of ma.s.sacre and slaughter during the Black Hawk war.

As no one can conceive the sensation awakened by being out of sight of land at sea, till he actually stands on the deck of a vessel, that is ploughing her way through the trackless world of waters that stretch interminably around him, and strains his eye in vain to catch a view of one single fading outline of the far off sh.o.r.e--so no one can conceive the emotion that rises up in the bosom of the traveller as he stands on the broad prairie, and sees the horizon settling down upon one wide sea of waving gra.s.s, and can behold around him neither stone, nor stump, nor bush, nor tree, nor hill, nor house. These vast prairies, though bearing a luxuriant growth of gra.s.s, would impress one with a sense of desolateness, were they not beautified with flowers, and animated with the songs and the sight of the feathered tribes. The view of the prairie, as it stretches off before you, often appears like a perfect flower garden. Though we were too late to see these productions in their rich vernal beauty, yet often they stood strewn around us on every side as far as the eye could reach, spreading out their rich and brilliant petals of every colour and hue. An intelligent lady told me that in a single walk over the corner of a prairie, she gathered for a bouquet forty different kinds of flowers; and another informed me that she had been able to gather one hundred and twenty different kinds. Though the music wafted along over these luxuriant expanses of earth be usually not so melodious nor varied as that to which the woodlands echo, there is something very animating in the wheeling of the plover, the chirping of the robin, and the fluttering of the wings of a flock of prairie hens, started up at every half mile of your journey. And then occasionally we saw n.o.ble herds of cattle feeding over these vast plains. Such large, and fat, and n.o.ble-looking oxen and cows, I never before beheld, as I saw grazing amid the luxuriant prairies of Illinois.

There is no fence to stay them in their course:--they range where they choose amid the ten thousands of acres that stretch unenclosed around them.

I have already intimated that this part of Illinois is as yet but thinly populated. It is rapidly filling up but for some years the first settlers will have to endure many hardships, and submit to many privations and sacrifices, of which we can scarcely form an idea. The following fact will serve to ill.u.s.trate this remark. While on our way to Chicago, as we stopped on one occasion to change horses, I went in and sat down in the only house in the place. It was a comfortable log-cabin, and all nature looked so bright and sunny without, I was hardly prepared for demure and melancholy looks within: and yet the moment I entered, I saw in the countenance of the good lady of the cabin that her heart was ill at ease. She looked so forlorn and full of gloom, I determined to enter into conversation with her and if possible elicit the cause of her depression. After a variety of inquiries, she was drawn out to give the following sketch of herself, which I will put down as nearly as possible in her own words.

"We came into this country from western New York several years since. We have never failed to be amply remunerated for our cultivation of the soil.

In a temporal point of view we have increased in goods. But our children have never been to school a day since we have been here. We used to go to meeting every Sabbath, but here often for months there is no such thing known as public worship. A while ago, there was a minister that used to come once in three weeks, and preach about four miles from this. But now he is dead, and we have no preaching at all. We have no ministers and no physicians. What made me more contented to reside here, was that my oldest daughter was married and lived my nearest neighbour, about two miles from this. She had three lovely and promising children, in whom all our hearts were bound up. But the grave now covers them! They were all cut down one after another about six months ago by the scarlet fever. We could'nt get any physician to see them, and they all died within ten days of each other.

And then we had to carry them ourselves to the grave. We put them into the ground in silence. There was no one to lift up the voice of prayer."

Here the good woman seemed choked in her utterance. She wiped her eyes and ceased speaking for a moment. I remained silent, and soon she proceeded.

"My daughter laid her loss very much to heart. She never after the death of her babes wore a bright countenance. About ten days ago she was confined.

Herself and her infant are dead! We buried them about three days since. She had no physician to attend upon her, for there was none within _thirty_ miles. She had no minister to speak to her words of heavenly consolation, for there are none near here. Her husband has a good farm, and the crops look well; but what is all this to him, now that his wife and children are all gone? He appears desolate and broken-hearted."

Having listened to this touching story, I could well understand why the aspect of gloom sat upon her countenance, and while I endeavoured in a few words to direct her thoughts to Him who was "appointed to bind up the broken-hearted, and to comfort all that mourn," I was led to think of the unnumbered blessings and privileges that we who live on the Atlantic border enjoy, for which we feel little or no emotions of grat.i.tude. How unspeakable are our religious privileges! And yet how little are they appreciated by the great ma.s.s of the people! Will not G.o.d one day visit for these things?

In our journey we had some singular and rather amusing adventures. We found all along at our log inns, for our refreshment, substantial food, bacon and beans, or fried pork and potatoes, and if we were too dyspeptic to eat these, we could fast, which is sometimes useful. But at night we frequently found ourselves placed under more embarra.s.sing circ.u.mstances. A single instance will serve to ill.u.s.trate a number of a.n.a.logous cases. I select the second night after leaving Galena. It is after nine o'clock. The strip of moon that is visible emits a few feeble rays. The stars, half obscured, glow faintly in the heavens. Our course is still onward through the boundless prairie. In the distance may be seen the faint outline of a grove. We hope to find there a resting place for the night. As we approach it, we find it is a cl.u.s.ter of trees that grow on either side of Somonauk Creek. Our driver has already plunged his horses into the cool waters of the creek. The farther bank is gained. Our course now is beneath the n.o.ble elms that hang drooping over the creek, and spread abroad their branches forming a thick and dark shade over the road. We see in the distance the smoke eddying up amid the trees. It is the place where we are to spend the night--a log cabin, before the door of which is kindled a fire, half smothered with dirt and chips, whose eddying currents of smoke as they are swept into the house by the evening breeze expel the swarms of musquitoes that for several hours had been making acquaintance with us.

When the weary traveller reaches his resting-place for the night, it is a great comfort to have a bed and room by himself to which he can retire and seek repose. But this is a luxury not to be expected usually by the western traveller. They have here what is playfully called "_The Potter's field_,"

a place in these log taverns in which they put strangers--a room designed as a dormitory, in which all travellers, men, women and children are placed to lodge! The house which we had reached at Somonauk Creek had a place of this sort. It was the only room in the house save the kitchen. Two stage loads had already arrived, and other travellers were coming in. I told my friend B---- that we must try to secure a bed while we could. In this Potter's field they gave us a comfortable corner with a straw bed on which to stretch ourselves. We were among the earliest to seek our repose.

Fortunately, there was one bed enshrouded with curtains, which was a.s.signed to a gentleman from Vermont and his newly married bride, whom he was bringing to reside at the west.--They went on stowing the beds with occupants, and spreading the floor with couches, till _fourteen_ persons were disposed of, and then they found that every foot of ground was occupied. The landlord appeared to be full of the milk of human kindness.

When some of our fellow lodgers cried out, that they were half devoured by musquitoes, he very benignantly replied, "I will open the door and let in a current of smoke, and that will drive them out." We found some inhabitants tabernacling in our bedstead that annoyed us more than the musquitoes. Yet after all we got some rest, and when we rose to breathe the fresh air we felt that we had abundant cause to thank the Lord for his goodness. However indifferent had been our lodgings, we remembered that the Saviour while here on the earth, had not always so comfortable a spot at night to lay his head as this.

About a dozen miles before we reached Chicago, we seemed to descend to another _steppe_ of land, where the prairie was for the most part from two to twelve inches under water. The gra.s.s, thus having its roots continually irrigated, looked very rank; we made but very slow progress through it on our way. Though that part of Chicago which is built up, stands on more elevated ground, the antic.i.p.ated limits of the city extend into this wet prairie. We saw the lots staked out as we pa.s.sed, which I suppose have been sold at a very high price. I could not but think of the remark of a fellow traveller, who, in speaking of this and several other places, said, "If each of these places do not become as large as Pekin in China, these city lots cannot all be built upon."

Chicago is truly an interesting place. It has sprung up here in three or four years--a city--as by the wand of enchantment. I had heard much of this place, but must confess I was not prepared to find so large and interesting a town. Its situation on either side of the Chicago river is too well-known to need description. It has quite the air of an eastern town. There is a fine brick Episcopal Church just completed. Our stay was very brief in Chicago. Almost the first sound we heard after our arrival, was the ringing of the bell of the large and beautiful steamboat, _James Madison_, which was on the eve of departure for Detroit and Buffalo. As we might have no other opportunity of going by the lakes for the next ten days, with the specimen of land travelling that we had just had, we were not long in making up our minds whether we would avail ourselves of this boat, or direct our course to Detroit through the Michigan woods. We gave Chicago a very hasty survey, took our pa.s.sage on board the James Madison, and as the shades of evening gathered over us we found ourselves skimming over the waves of Michigan lake.

_Mackinaw, July 20th._

We this morning found ourselves bounding over the green waters of the Michigan with the Wisconsin Territory on our left. About nine o'clock, A.

M. we landed at Milwaukie. A bar in the river prevented the steamboat from going up to the town, but we found ourselves amply compensated for our long walk by a view of this interesting place from several of its streets and more elevated parts. The whole site of the town, in connexion with the adjacent country, is richly ent.i.tled to its Indian name,--"THE LOVELY LAND." Less than two years since there was scarcely a frame house on the spot, and now there is a population of nearly three thousand, with buildings that will compare in stability and elegance with those found in our large eastern towns.

It was towards evening when we approached this picturesque spot--Mackinaw--where the wide expanse of water, and the dark evergreens of the islands, and the thronging mult.i.tudes of wild men, gave to this point in my journey a novel appearance. I think this would be a most delightful retreat for an invalid who wanted retirement, a cool, invigorating atmosphere, and inducements to active exercise. It would be impossible for a man to be here long without having new trains of thought awakened in his mind, or without being led to contemplate the human character under several new aspects. Mackinaw is an island of about nine miles in circ.u.mference.

There is a fort occupying the elevated parts of the town, which is now vacated, the troops having been withdrawn to be present at the treaty at St. Peter's. This circ.u.mstance, in connexion with the great number of Indians now present, has created some uneasiness in the minds of the inhabitants of this place, especially as the Indians are very much dissatisfied with the attempt to palm off on to them goods in part for their annuities, when money had been promised. Already has a council been held among them, and the hint has been dropped that they can bring a thousand warriors into the field. The first object that met my eye on the low pebbly sh.o.r.e, as we approached the island, was the beautiful lodges, and well made bark canoes of the Ottawa and Chippewa tribes. The whole appearance of their encampment in this wild spot is picturesque and imposing. Each family had their bark canoe, which was now drawn up on the beach, and lay beside their lodge or tent. In this canoe, made of the outer rind of the birchen tree, they carry their family, and furniture, and all their worldly effects--children, dogs, fishing-tackle, guns, their tent, cooking utensils, and themselves. Their tent, or lodge, consists first of five or six tapering rods, which are set up so as to form a cone, and then around these are placed a coil of matting, made of reeds or flaggs, and arranged in such a manner as to form a series of concentric or circular covering, each lapping upon the other like the scales upon a fish. In the centre of the lodge a fire was kindled, a hole having been left in the upper part through which the smoke could pa.s.s off. Around the fire were spread the blankets and bear-skins, which furnished both beds and seats. We entered several tents and were kindly received. Almost the first countenance of a white man upon which I looked after reaching the sh.o.r.e, was the bright sunny face of our beloved brother, the Bishop of Michigan. I never had a more unexpected or joyful meeting with a Christian brother. We spent two or three hours in the most delightful Christian intercourse.

Bishop McCoskry was on his way to visit Green Bay, Milwaukie, and other parts of Wisconsin. It was only a few hours, before our steamers were again moving forward through the deep green waters, to their several places of destination.

CHAPTER XI.

MICHIGAN.

Steamboat travelling upon the western Lakes--The waters of Huron--Saginaw Bay--The stormy night--The beautiful St. Clair--Detroit--Bishop of Michigan--Ypsilanti--Ann Arbour--Ore Creek--Bewildered at night in the woods--Rescue--Meeting of friends--Log cabin.

_Detroit, July 23d._

We parted with the friend we met at Mackinaw in the night. The two steamers rode off in two opposite directions. Our course, which from Chicago had been to the north, now became southward. There is something exceedingly novel in steamboat travelling upon the great western rivers. But the navigation of the lakes by steam presents scenes to the eye, and furnishes material for the imagination, far more grand, and striking, and magnificent. These lakes are indeed great inland seas. The wind and the storm have mighty power over them. But the well-directed steamer rides proudly over their agitated surface with all her precious cargo of life, and holds steadily on her way to the destined port in despite of wind and waves. This, however, is not always the case. The wind at times blows so fierce and furious that the vessel is driven back some fifty or ninety miles in her course. When a storm occurs with great and unwonted violence upon these lakes, especially upon Huron and Michigan, where there are very few safe harbours, the expedient adopted is to keep the boat at sea, and let her drive before the gale. We saw, but in one single instance, these waters putting on a wrathful appearance. During the greater part of our voyage, they lay beneath our steamer that swept over them in smooth and placid tranquillity. There is something in the very appearance of the waters of these lakes to wake up poetic conception. They have a sandy or pebbly bottom, which appears white as chalk, while every rippling wave as well as the whole ma.s.s of waters that roll beneath you, though so pure and transparent that a silver dollar might be distinctly seen at the depth of thirty feet, everywhere a.s.sumes the colour of deep emerald green.

The day after we left Mackinaw, while pa.s.sing Saginaw Bay, every vestige of land faded from our sight, and we saw nothing around us but one wide world of waters. As the close of the day drew on, the hitherto bright sunny heavens became covered with dark menacing clouds. A wind sprang up, and the waters of Huron, that had previously slept with the tranquillity and hushed slumbers of an infant, suddenly woke to the fierceness and fury of an enraged giant. I plainly saw what an aspect that lake could put on in a storm!

The sun went down. Neither moon nor stars were visible. The curtains of darkness were drawn closely around that whole world of waters that roared and dashed so fiercely. As I stood upon the upper deck, and looked out upon that scene of darkness and wild commotion, and heard the roar of the wind, and the dashing of the waves, and the hoa.r.s.e rumbling breath of steam from the escapement pipe, like the suppressed growl of a lion, that told of mighty power to urge onward and to destroy, I felt, in a way I have seldom done before, my entire dependence on G.o.d. As I stood there on the deck, with the wind sweeping by me, the waves of the troubled lake rolling beneath me, and the blackness of darkness around me, interrupted and illumined only by the cloud of ignited sparks that streamed incessantly forth from the dark funnels of the steamer, I felt the force and meaning of the 93d Psalm, "The Lord reigneth, he is clothed with majesty. He is clothed with strength wherewith he hath girded himself. The floods have lifted up, O Lord, the floods have lifted up their voice: the floods lift up their waves. The Lord on high is mightier than the noise of many waters, yea, than the mighty waves of the sea. _Thy testimonies are very sure._"

_There_ I saw my safety. The testimonies of my covenant G.o.d were very sure, who had said, "when thou pa.s.sest through the waters I will be with thee." I slept soundly that night. In the morning the sun shone brightly on us, and all appearance of a storm had gone by. In a few hours we were gliding over the surface of the beautiful St. Clair, and before evening, Detroit, with its neatly built streets, and its n.o.ble stream sweeping proudly by it, lay before us. It was with a grateful heart that I stepped on the sh.o.r.e, remembering the many mercies I had enjoyed, and antic.i.p.ating much pleasure in the eight or ten days that I had purposed to spend in Michigan. I was not disappointed.

Detroit, is an interesting and beautiful town. The parted stream above the city, and the island around which it winds, as well as the view of Sandwich on the opposite side, with the improved country that stretches around it, are all points of interest upon which the eye loves to linger. The houses in Detroit are generally composed of wood, which are very neatly painted.

Several streets running parallel with the river are exceedingly beautiful, especially _Jefferson Avenue_, which is the Broadway or Chesnut street of Detroit. The Episcopal Church is a very neat gothic building. A second Episcopal Church of a larger size is soon to be erected in another part of the town. The churches and other public buildings in Detroit are certainly highly creditable to the place.

I met, soon after my arrival at Detroit, the Rev. Mr. R----, who had come to supply the pulpit of St. Paul's during the first Sunday of the Bishop's absence. It has always appeared to me that there was great wisdom in the views expressed some years since by our present presiding bishop--_that every diocesan should have a parochial charge_. His judgment, as delivered at the time to which I refer, was, that all our dioceses should be _small_, as they were in primitive times; that the mitre should have no worldly splendour or peculiar emoluments connected with it; that each bishop, like the rest of his clergy, should have his own parochial charge, to whom he should look for his maintenance. One reason a.s.signed for this--and that is what I particularly refer to--was that as one of the great duties of a bishop is to preach the gospel, it is infinitely important that his heart should be burning with love for souls; and that he only who had a particular congregation, the charge of whose souls was upon his hands, would ordinarily feel a ceaseless and ever wakeful solicitude for dying sinners; and if he did not feel this he would not preach with the power and unction that become an amba.s.sador of Christ, and the chief pastor of the church. Go to that man who, as a minister of the Lord Jesus Christ, has been spending his days and nights in prayer and toilsome labours to promote the spiritual interests of the flock committed to his care, and then visit him after he has been acting four or five years in the capacity of a professor or president of a college, and see if he does not recognize the truth of this doctrine, see if he does not sigh for that spirituality and burning love for souls, which once bore him on so cheerfully in his labours. However this matter shall be viewed, the bishops in many of our dioceses must have parochial charges, and this will const.i.tute an important portion in the field of their labour. In this department of labour the Bishop of Michigan has been pre-eminently blessed.

One could hardly desire a larger measure of popularity, either with his parish or in his diocese, than Bishop McCoskry enjoys. Every where the highest testimony is borne to the loveliness and excellency of his character, and the faithfulness and evangelical spirit of his ministry.

This I heard from all quarters--from clergy and laity, Episcopalians and Presbyterians. Indeed I think the bishop's greatest danger lies in this quarter. May he still have grace as he hath hitherto done, amid all these praises of men, to count himself as nothing, and to sit as a little child at the feet of Jesus. When all our bishops become distinguished for their meekness and simplicity, for the fervour of their love, their spirit of evangelical piety, and their unquenchable zeal to exalt Christ, and rescue dying sinners from the iron grasp of the G.o.d of this world, we shall then indeed see a return of primitive days, and evidences of a truly apostolic church.

I was delighted to learn from the Bishop of Michigan, that in his contemplated visitation through his diocese, he purposed to hold as far as it was practicable, continued services for several days in each parish, like the _Rhode Island convocations_, or the _Pennsylvania and Virginia a.s.sociations_. A clergyman speaking of these antic.i.p.ated services, remarked, "they will be worth to me in such a place a whole year's labour."

In the place to which he referred, the Episcopal Church was just about being organized, and there, as every where, the great obstacle to the establishment of our church was the impression that we were dest.i.tute of piety, and that our object was to establish a particular denomination, and not to save souls. Let the missionary go where he will _and preach Christ crucified_, and the people will rally around him. Let him only make the impression on the mind of any community that he has a message from G.o.d to them--that he stands as between the living and the dead to stay the plague--that in his view all other things dwindle into nothing, when compared with the salvation of their undying souls--and he will not want hearers, he will not want materials with which to build up a church. The people are not opposed to an Episcopal form of government--they are not opposed to our liturgy--they are not opposed to our doctrines--but they are opposed to a _dead_ church. Whether these, their impressions in relation to us are well or ill-founded, one thing is certain, these impressions do in ten thousand instances exist, and in my view, that minister of our church, is the best and soundest churchman, who preaches most faithfully the doctrines of the cross, and exemplifies most fully the power of Christianity upon his heart by a holy life. It is not by controversy and argumentation, but by doing their Master's work, by putting forth all their energies to bring men to repentance and the foot of the cross, that our clergy will remove this impression in relation to our want of piety, and make our Zion a praise in all the earth. And this, I believe, to a very great extent, the clergy of Michigan are striving to do.

_Tuesday, July 25th._

I was induced to start this morning for Ypsilanti, by the kindness and importunity of the Rev. Mr. R----, who offered, if I would return with him to his parish, to convey me in his own carriage to the several points I wished to visit in the interior of the state. The pledge was fully redeemed, and my comfort and pleasure greatly augmented by my acceptance of his kind offer. The road for the first twenty miles towards Ypsilanti gave us a fine specimen of the toil and tardiness of travelling in a new country. At one time the formidable slough received us into its cavernous depths, and as we went down, vehicle and horses and all, seemed to threaten to swallow us up in its miry embrace. Then, as we rose from this perilous depth, our carriage went bounding from log to log which lay side by side transversely across our path, deeply embedded in mud, const.i.tuting what is expressively called a _corduroy road_. These were almost the only alternations in our path for the first twenty miles. The land, after you leave Detroit, is, in almost every direction, low, clayey, and wet. It is also heavily timbered, and therefore will not be very rapidly settled. The soil of the farms that have been cleared up is said to be productive, but princ.i.p.ally valuable for purposes of grazing.