After a few moments' conversation he thrust his arm into mine, as though we had been acquainted for years, and we strolled off among the black-jacks to await the arrival of the congregation. "What church do you belong to, Brother P----?" said he. "I am a Presbyterian, sir," I responded. "I am glad to hear it, glad to hear it," said he. "Brother Y----, the last agent of the Bible Society, was a Methodist, and we've had Methodist agents a good while. I am glad there is a change. I heard there would be, at Conference. All our brethren will be glad to see and welcome you." As Brother M---- was the first real itinerant that I met on his circuit deep in the Brush, I will present him a little more fully to my readers. He wore on his head, drawn well down over his ears and eyes, a cheap cloth cap, badly soiled and faded. I do not now recall the color of his coat. I remember that it was of coarse material and ragged, with a particularly large rent under one of the armholes. His pantaloons were genuine butternut-colored jeans. I have no doubt that the cloth was the gift of some good sister, woven in her own loom, and all that she was able to give in making up his scanty salary. The most of the audience, both men and women, were clothed in the same home-made material. For myself, I was dressed in all respects as I had been the last time I had preached in New York. I did not like the contrast between myself and the congregation; and on my return to the city I laid aside my entire black suit, and procured a second-hand snuff-colored overcoat, costing eight dollars, jean pantaloons, and a soft hat, in which I felt much more at ease on my next return to the Brush. To anticipate a little, I will say that in my desire to carry out the Pauline example in becoming all things to all men, I went a little too far; for I wore my Brush suit to Conference, where I met this same preacher, and scores of his brethren with whom I had become acquainted, dressed in black, and presenting a contrast quite to my disadvantage. I had, however, gone there on horseback, traveling and preaching through the wildest brush country, with only such changes of clothing as I could carry in my saddle-bags. If I was a little mortified at my personal appearance when the presiding elder introduced me to the venerable bishop, and he introduced me to the Conference, and they all arose to their feet to do me honor, and welcome me as the representative of the American Bible Society, I had at least this satisfaction, that with the large audience present my dress would do something to correct the popular impression, very widely prevalent in the Brush, that "Presbyterian ministers preach for good clothes."