The next morning, I and my niece set out for Pontiac, in the first stage, to visit Sister Mack, my brother's widow, and her daughter, Mrs. Whitermore. Here we were treated with great attention and respect by Mr. Whitermore and his family. The subject of religion was introduced immediately after our arrival, and continued the theme of conversation until near tea-time, when Sister Mack arose, saying, "Sister Lucy, you must excuse me, for I find my nerves are so agitated I cannot bear conversation any longer; the subject is so entirely new, it confuses my mind." I requested her to stop a moment. I then repeated to her the same that I had done two days previous to Lovisa, adding, "Suppose a company of fashionable people were to come in and begin to talk about balls, parties, and the latest style of making dresses, do you think that would agitate you so?" She smiled at this, and said, "I do not know that it would, Sister Lucy; you know that those are more common things." I then told her that I would excuse her, and that she might go where she pleased, concluding in my own mind never to mention the subject to her again, unless it should be by her own request. That night we slept in the same room. When I was about retiring to rest, she observed, "Do not let my presence prevent you from attending to any duty which you have practiced at home." And soon afterwards she again remarked, "The house is now still, and I would be glad to hear you talk, if you are not too much fatigued." I told her I would have no objections, provided the subject of religion would not make her nervous; and, as she did not think it would, we commenced conversation, the result of which was, she was convinced of the truth of the gospel. In a few days subsequent to this, we all set out to visit Mrs. Stanly, who was also my brother's daughter. Here Mr. Whitermore gave me an introduction to one Mr. Ruggles, the pastor of the Presbyterian church to which this Mr. Whitermore belonged. "And you," said Mr. Ruggles, upon shaking hands with me, "are the mother of that poor, foolish, silly boy, Joe Smith, who pretended to translate the Book of Mormon." I looked him steadily in the face, and replied, "I am, sir, the mother of Joseph Smith; but why do you apply to him such epithets as those?" "Because," said his reverence, "that he should imagine he was going to break down all other churches with that simple 'Mormon' book." "Did you ever read that book?" I inquired. "No," said he, "it is beneath my notice." "But," rejoined I, "the Scriptures say, prove all things;' and, now sir, let me tell you boldly, that that book contains the everlasting gospel, and it was written for the salvation of your soul, by the gift and power of the Holy Ghost." "Pooh," said the minister, "nonsense--I am not afraid of any member of my church being led astray by such stuff; they have too much intelligence."