"The next day being the Sabbath, we went on only as far as we deemed necessary for perfect safety. Toward evening my father held divine service, which was almost the only outward reminder that it was the Lord's Day. People coming and going--bustle here, there, and everywhere--so different from our last quiet Sabbath at home, the last time we and our dear Indians gathered together around the table of our Lord, and perhaps the last time we ever shall, until we meet in the kingdom. The next morning our party separated, our family, with Mr. and Mrs. Moore, Mrs. Williamson and second daughter, and two or three others, continuing on the Henderson road, and the rest striking across to St. Peter, where Dr. Williamson has found abundant work in the hospitals. Near there his family expect to remain during the winter. "We arrived that afternoon in Henderson, a town a hundred miles from home, and we had been a week on the way. 'Why, I thought you were all killed!' was the first greeting of every one. A shoe store was hunted up before we proceeded to Shakopee, having first bidden a Godspeed to our friends, Mr. and Mrs. Moore. By this time some of us 'young folks' had acquired such a liking for walking that we consider it superior to any other mode of locomotion to this day; and if it had not been that we were so ragged and dirty and foot-sore, we should have preferred to continue our journey. During that week our ideas of paradise grew very limited, being comprised in having an abundance of water, some clean clothes, plenty to eat, and a nice bed to sleep in.