It was with no little satisfaction that I made the appointment. For what more exalted privilege than to bear the balm of the gospel to bleeding hearts! Moreover, the testimony my infidel friend had thus unwittingly borne to Christianity, was exceedingly gratifying, and led me to hope for his further enlightenment. The day set for the services at M— dawned calm and clear, with a slight relenting of the cold. A good brother had offered the use of his handsome span and a generous pair of "runners," and calling for Mr. B., who, with a show of reluctance, consented to accompany us, we set out. A choir had been extemporized for the occasion. It was composed of persons originally from various States and from Canada, a miniature specimen of western society. Strewing the bottom of the long pung with clean straw, and taking our seats thereon, the better to screen us from the sharp, frosty air, and carefully enveloped in blankets and buffalo robes, the ride was made quite comfortable. "There's the house!" said Mr. B., at length, as we began to ascend a swell of land, on which stood a pretty painted cottage, reminding one of New England. On the extended ridge grew the burr oak, with almost the regularity of cultivation,—producing the illusion that we were passing through an eastern orchard. In the background were cleared fields, well fenced, and the river belted with forest trees. It was a charming place, and an exclamation of delight broke from our company. One glance assured us that this was the abode of taste and thrift. The interest awakened by exteriors was not lessened when I met the inmates. The master of the house impressed me as a large-hearted, industrious man in his business enterprises, and in social relations kind and affectionate. His wife and a married sister entered the room soon after our arrival, neatly dressed in mourning; the former pale and worn; the gentle, refined face of the latter, sad and sympathizing. They were from Vermont, accustomed to the best influences of that goodly State, the stamp of which was indelibly placed on them. The story of the parent's sorrow was heart-touching. Judson, the son they mourned, was the eldest of five children,—a child of promise; "the flower of the family," as the neighbors expressed it. He had a mind mature beyond his years, and was a dutiful son. For some weeks before his decease, a change had taken place in his health. Without any known cause, his bodily strength wasted.