“‘It was Saturday forenoon when we passed over the rough road, and stopped at a one-storied house, where a post-office is kept. It is the residence of William S., oldest son of Bro. Miller, P. M., at the office, which, for distinction, is called Low Hampton. He was not at home; but one of his little daughters told us the residence of her grandfather was in sight on the hill. Without waiting for her to point it out, I easily recognized it—from previous description—among the good-looking farm-houses in sight. It was not the largest or handsomest. The back part of it only, which is painted red, could be seen. It is two stories high. The northern front and ends are painted white. On the way we passed the small, plain meeting-house of the Baptist church to which Bro. M. belongs. “‘At the gate of his hospitable mansion we met a young man in a wagon, with crutches by his side, whose round, open countenance showed him to be a son of William Miller. He gave us a cordial invitation to enter. Three visitors were already in the house, to whom myself, wife and child, being added, made a number which we feared would be burdensome. We soon found ourselves perfectly at home, though we had never before seen one of the family but its venerable head. “‘The next day other visitors arrived, one of whom was a lady from Iowa, and three from Vergennes. The day was very stormy. We went to the place of worship, and found a congregation consisting of fewer persons than we left at the house. The preacher, Bro. Increase Jones, gave a plain, practical sermon on the text, “The end of all things is at hand; be ye therefore sober, and watch unto prayer.” In the afternoon we opened the Scriptures, and tried to pursue the apostolic method in speaking of Jesus and the resurrection. “‘On our way from the meeting, after referring to the number of guests, we asked Robbins if they usually had as much company. “‘Pretty nigh,’ said he; ‘I wish I had kept count of the number of visitors for the last six months.’ “‘Did they come in such numbers when Bro. Miller was sick?’ we inquired. “‘It seemed to make but little difference,’ he replied. “‘We just then passed by the open carriage gate into the spacious inclosure at the west end of the house. “‘It seemed to be the hardest task,’ he proceeded, ‘to make friends understand that it was not friendly to visit a sick man in such numbers. I have had to stand here and keep people out of the house, and sometimes there were six asking admission at once.’ “‘As it was, I have no doubt company added weeks to his sickness, and dollars to the doctor’s bill. I afterward learned that the expenses of his sickness were one hundred dollars.