The next day Norman was to go with his mother and aunt to a camp-meeting. It had rained the night before, and the clouds were gathering in rather a threatening manner, obscuring the heavens, and forming in dark masses at several points on the horizon. It was thought not very prudent to go, but the strong desire in Mrs. Lester’s face overpowered the cooler judgment of the others. “If it does not rain,” said Mrs. Lester, “those clouds will certainly be better than the broad glare of sunshine we have had for some days past.” The carriage drove up to the door, and calling for some friends who lived near, they were soon on their way. The drive was very pleasant through the Fox valley, with frequent groves and pretty views of the river. They drove into the pretty town of St. Charles, across its fine bridge, with its noble piers, through the town on the east of the river, and after a little while into the deep woods in which the camp-meeting was held. The road through the woods was very bad: deep mud, and several sloughs, called in the west _slews_. All these critical spots were happily passed, and reaching the grove they got out of the carriage and walked on the camp-ground. The gentleman who accompanied them brought the carriage cushions to put on the plank seats, which were rather damp with the heavy rains of the night previous. There were ministers in the elevated covered stand, appropriated to them, and a large congregation gathered for a love-feast. It was pleasant to hear them speak of the happiness of religion, to see the calm peace on their countenances, and to listen to their expressions of love to their Saviour, of faith in him, and fixed resolve to live to his service. An intermission of a few minutes before the public service gave Norman an opportunity of looking about him. About thirty tents were pitched in a circle, and in the center of the amphitheater thus formed, seats were arranged for the congregation beneath the shade of fine noble trees that spread wide their branches. One, beneath which the preachers’ stand was placed, threw itself toward the other trees, that bent as if to meet it, making a most picturesque group. At each corner of the area there was a structure formed of four stout sticks, about five feet high, on which rested a platform covered with turf. On these rude candelabras, at dark, they kindled pine knots, to give light to the evening meetings and to the encampment. How much Norman would like to have seen this wild woodland thus illuminated, the broad glare flashing on the gathered groups.