December 25. The Indians having been used upon Christmas-days to drink and revel among the _white_ people, I thought proper to call them together, and discourse to them upon divine things: which I accordingly did from the parable of the barren figtree, Luke xiii. 6‒9. The power of God appeared in the assembly, by awakening several stupid creatures, that were scarce ever moved before. And the impressions made upon the assembly in general, seemed not _superficial_, but _deep_ and heart-affecting. O how ready did they appear to comply with every thing they were convinced was their duty! God was in the midst of us of a truth, bowing and melting stubborn hearts! How many tears and sobs were then to be seen and heard among us! What liveliness and strict attention! What eagerness and intenseness of mind! They seemed to watch and wait for the dropping of God’s word, as the thirsty earth for the “former and latter rain.” December 26. This evening I was visited by a person under great spiritual exercise. She was a woman of more than _four-score_ years old, and appeared to be much broken and very _childish_ through age, so that it seemed impossible for man to instil into her mind any _notions_ of divine things.――She was led by the hand into my house, and appeared in extreme anguish. I asked her, what ailed her? She answered, “That her heart was distressed, and she feared she should never find Christ.” I asked her, when she began to be concerned? She answered to this effect, That she had heard me preach many times, but never “felt it in her heart” till the last sabbath; and then it came, she said, “all one as if a needle had been ♦thrust into her heart;” since which time she had no rest day or night. She added, that on the evening before Christmas, a number of Indians being together at the house where she was, and discoursing about _Christ_, their talk _pricked her heart_, so that she could not sit up, but fell down on her bed; at which time _she went away_, (as she expressed it) and felt as if she dreamed, and yet is confident she did not dream. When she was thus gone, she saw, she says, two paths, one appeared very broad and crooked; and that turned to the left hand. The other appeared strait and very narrow; and that went up the hill to the right hand. She travelled, she said, for some time up the narrow right-hand path, till at length something seemed to obstruct her journey. She sometimes called it darkness, and sometimes compared it to a block or bar. She then remembered, she says, what she had heard me say about “striving to enter in at the strait gate,” (although she took little notice of it at that time) and thought she would climb over this bar. But just as she was thinking of this, she came back again, as she termed it, meaning that she came to herself; whereupon her soul was extremely distressed, apprehending she had now turned back and forsaken Christ, and that there was therefore no hope of mercy for her.