After having passed a day or two in the country, or gone along some two or three hundred miles by stages, steamboats, and railroad cars, in looking back upon the scenes through which you have passed, the company you have met, and the different individuals with which you have been brought in contact, one feels almost astonished to reflect how many touching incidents of human woe have been brought to his notice during this short period. Sorrow and sadness seem to lie every where on the surface of society. You cannot enter a steamboat, or walk through the streets of a large town, or mingle at all in the circles of the living, without meeting with something to remind you, and that most painfully, "_that man is born to trouble_." Does not this show that ours is a world full of disorder and sin? Does it not show that some great moral convulsion has occurred here, which has upturned the very foundations upon which human nature was originally built? Surely a God of order and of benevolence would never have created such a world as ours now is! Surely this world is not now what it was when upon its original creation, "the morning stars sang together, and the sons of God shouted aloud for joy!" I do not see how any one can prosecute an investigation upon the subject of moral philosophy, and not come to the conclusion that the Bible is the only book in the world that gives any satisfactory account of the origin and history of man. It was a bleak and dreary morning upon which we left Philadelphia. The wind blew fiercely, and the waters of the Delaware seemed stirred the very bottom as we entered the steamboat. Notwithstanding the earliness of the hour, and the roughness of the weather, a great crowd was rushing on board. Among the number was the Bishop of Illinois. The last time I had seen him to have any continued conversation with him, was more than a year since, near the banks of the Mississippi, in the extreme northwest corner of his extensive diocese. I was sorry to find on the present occasion, that the bishop seemed a good deal depressed in reference to the prospects of the Church in his diocese, though still looking to the Lord and trusting in his wise government. I could in some measure enter into his feelings, as I had travelled over the vast field of destitution in the midst of which he is placed. Being entrusted with the interests of the Church in the vast and powerful state of Illinois, without funds, without a salary adequate to his own support, with only here and there a single labourer to co-operate with him, how can he carry out the designs of his office? Though a thousand fair fields lie blooming before him, all promising a rich and luxuriant harvest, how, with his present means, can he take possession of them? He wants a vast increase of missionary men, and pecuniary means to sustain them. The discouragements around him are innumerable. What can be done for the West? What can be done for Illinois? I believe if three or four of our