On April 17th, therefore, we rose at half past 4, set off by an early train for Bloomington, Illinois (90 miles from Jacksonville), and arrived there the same morning at half past 10. The next day (Sunday, the 18th), my husband preached morning and evening at the First Presbyterian Church, when the congregations were larger than could have been expected, considering the unfavourable weather, which was oppressively hot, with very high wind and rain that fell at intervals in torrents. These storms gradually increased, and on Monday, in the middle of the night, we were roused by a cyclone, which broke over the town. The high wind then became a hurricane, the sky was in a blaze with lightning for hours, loud peals of thunder burst overhead, and rain, mixed with hail, swept down upon the streets in a complete deluge. Every moment we expected our windows to be blown in, and feared that a frightful crash in some part of the hotel would announce that great damage had been done; but, happily, towards morning, the wind gradually abated, and at last (through the Lord's kindness) the storm ceased. For a few days the newspapers contained alarming accounts of this tornado, and mentioned numerous places devastated by it, amongst which was Marshfield, where the destruction was overwhelming. "This part of the country" (said the "Daily Sentinel," of Indianapolis) "was visited last evening by one of the most terrific cyclones on record. After passing through several miles of country, it struck Marshfield about half past 6 p.m., when, an eye witness of the approaching storm, described it as a frightful-looking black cloud, lined with fleecy white. It was funnel shaped, and moved like a screw-propeller with wonderful velocity, literally destroying and blowing away everything in its path, which was about half a mile wide, and carrying death and destruction with it. Seventy-eight people were killed instantly, and eighty-five were wounded. Large trees were twisted off, telegraph wires were snapped, houses were blown from their foundations, and what was a beautiful, peaceful, quiet town 24 hours ago, is now a waste of desolation." Before our departure from Bloomington, Mr. Müller preached at each of the two Presbyterian Churches, and held one German meeting. On April 21st we went to Indianapolis, the capital of Indiana (166 miles from Bloomington) a beautiful city on the western branch of the White River, surrounded by an extensive plain. There my husband preached at the Second and Third Presbyterian, the First Baptist, the Meridian Street Methodist, and the German Methodist Churches, and attended a meeting of pastors on the 26th, when he addressed many of his brethren in the ministry for an hour.