I now determined to take my wife and our little effects and remove to Western Missouri. To bear the expenses of this long journey my wife had some sixty dollars, which she brought with her from the East, and certain men also put into my hands sums of money to be expended in lands and improvements in that country. With brother Joseph's counsel and blessing I bade farewell to Kirtland. We took a stage coach for the Ohio River, thence by steamer to St. Louis, and again by steamer up the Missouri. I took a steerage passage among the poorer class, and was dressed more like a laborer than a public minister. However, the throng of passengers on the boat learned by some means that I was a preacher, and on the 4th of July they pressed me very hard to address them in the cabin in honor of our national anniversary. I refused for awhile; but at length complied, on conditions that steerage passengers, boat hands, firemen, and all classes, black or white, should have the privilege of assembling in the cabin to hear the discourse. This was readily complied with, and very soon a large assembly was convened and in waiting, consisting of ladies and gentlemen, lawyers, merchants, farmers, servants, waiters and colored gentlemen. I presented myself before this motley assembly in a plain coat of gray satinet, and bowed respectfully. All tried to be grave, but a smile, a sneer, a look of contempt would now and then escape from some of the more genteel portion of the assembly, as if they would say, "_Can any good thing come out of Nazareth_," or, in other words, can so plain a man be possessed of knowledge sufficient to entertain such an assembly on so important an occasion as the 4th of July, and this, too, without preparing a discourse beforehand?