During my stay in San Francisco I wrote a proclamation of the gospel addressed to the people of the coasts and islands of the Pacific, which was afterwards published by Elder Wandell in Australia. I also commenced the book entitled _Key to Theology _. At a public meeting of the Saints, Elder George K. Winner was unanimously chosen and set apart to preside over the San Francisco branch--myself being honorably discharged from the duties of the same, with a view of a mission to Chili. I then spoke of my duties to other parts of the Pacific; was honorably discharged from the presidency of the branch with a vote of thanks, and a sum of money, amounting in all to fourteen hundred and ten dollars, was then and afterwards subscribed to assist me on my mission. _Sept. 5_.--I sailed for Valparaiso, Chili, on board the bark Henry Kelsey. After a tedious and disagreeable passage of sixty-four days, arrived safe in Valparaiso, Nov. 8th, accompanied by my wife and Elder Rufus Allen, all in tolerable health. Found the country in a state of civil war, and most kinds of business at a dead stand--men's hearts failing them for fear. I then finished the following letter which I had commenced on the sea: SHIP "HENRY KELSEY," PACIFIC OCEAN, Lat. 24 N., lon. 115 W., Sept. 15, 1851. _Dear Family_--Here we are on the deep, bound for Chili, S. A.--self, Phebe and R. Allen. We sailed from San Francisco on the 5th inst. Have had fine weather, excepting three days, in which we were becalmed; and have sailed more than eleven hundred miles. We are now running before the wind seven miles an hour. We have all been sea sick, and have not yet recovered in full. We are the only passengers, and have the cabin to ourselves, except at meals. We study Spanish every day. It is a beautiful language, and wonderfully adapted to the simplicity of the Lamanites. I hope to master it during the passage and a few months' residence among the Chileans. We pay sixty dollars for passage in the cabin, and found. We expect to be two months in going. Well, dear ones, six months have passed, and their events been recorded in the records of eternity since we parted; all this time I have had not one lisp from you. Oh, how lonesome! Just imagine the monotony. Sky and sea! Sea and sky! Night and day! Day and night! Infinitude of space! Boundless waste! Emblem of eternal silence! Eternal banishment! Eternal loneliness, where the voice of the bridegroom and of the bride are not heard. Where the holy music of children's voices, in joyous merriment, falls not on the ear; where no changing or varied landscape relieves the eye; where no vegetation, or leafy bower, or sweet blooming flower cheers the senses, where no birds tune their soft notes of praise announce the dawn, or sound the requiem of the closing day.