After being with Mr. Cobb six months, I put myself under the instruction of William S. Balch, then residing in Claremont, N. H., and pastor of the church in that place. I found him to be a noble man and shall ever remember his many acts of kindness with gratitude. Although I was in his family, and received his instruction most of the time during six months, he would receive no compensation. He now resides in Galesburg, Ill., and although years are pressing hard upon him, he is as faithful in the discharge of his ministerial duties as when in early manhood. When with him, I took my _first preaching tour_, and had my _first debate_. I went up the Connecticut river into Canada, and preached in most of the towns on both sides of the river. I performed the journey on foot, and must have walked about two hundred miles. In one town where I had an appointment, a Methodist minister had one at the same place and hour. We both met in the pulpit. He did not wish to speak, as he was unwell, he said, and desired me to occupy the time. I objected, for I was afraid of him; but as he insisted that I should go ahead, I delivered my discourse. My text was: “For if the word spoken by angels was steadfast, and every transgression and disobedience received a just recompense of reward, how shall we escape if we neglect so great a salvation which at the first was spoken by the Lord, and confirmed unto us by them that heard him.” Heb. ii. 2, 3. As soon as I was through, he seemed to be well enough, took my text, and made a long reply to my feeble effort. He handled me rather rough, but I did the best I could in the way of a rejoinder, but felt that I had come out _second_ best. It was not manly in him, an experienced preacher, to attack a boy as he did; but I suppose he had rather encounter a boy than a man. Soon after returning from this journey, I noticed a statement by Otis A. Skinner, a minister in Baltimore, Md., in one of our denominational papers, that several young men were wanted to preach in Maryland, and Mr. Balch advised me to go there. Heeding his advice, I went by stage across the Green Mountains to Albany, thence to New-York. In the latter place, I had the following conversation with an Englishman, right from his foggy island: “I do not like this country,” said he. “Why not?” I inquired. “I have many reasons. One is, the people are not refined enough. I did not encounter as much coarseness during the thirty years I lived in England, as I have in this country the past six months.” “You have been very unfortunate in the company you have kept. There are coarse people in all countries, and a man can eat and sleep with them all his lifetime if he chooses. But that there are more coarse people in this country than in England, I am sure is an error. But what do you mean by coarseness?” “I mean that the _peasants_ do not pay proper respect to _gentlemen_.”