CHAPTER X
REVIEW OF THE BOOK OF PROVIDENCE
THE green hills of my
dear native state had faded from my view; the dear
dwellers at the old homestead were distanced, farther
and yet farther, and for the first time I was without
friend or kin, with more than two thousand miles to
traverse to my final destination.
It is with no ordinary
emotions that I review these pages in the book of
Providence, where I was led "in a way I had not
known." Surely, "goodness and mercy have
followed me" since the morn I went forth at the
bidding of my Master, to buffet alone the turbid billows
of life.
Friends in Palmyra welcomed
the strangers, and kindly entertained them on the
Sabbath, and again "set them on their way rejoicing."
This is the first incident of my journey to record.
Never will that reception be forgotten, or cease to
awaken grateful emotions. Some of that "eleven"
have since been welcomed at the portals of glory!
Desirous to proceed, we
knew of no good reason why we should not have passage
on the Chesapeake, instead of waiting a day in Buffalo.
But we failed in securing it. No reason was assigned,
and we impatiently submitted. The fate of that steamer
is well known; and friends still weep for the many
who then found a grave in Lake Erie.
Unacquainted with the
world, and unaccustomed to traveling alone, God prepared
the hearts of Cleveland
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friends to attend me most of the long
journey; and but for this I could scarce have accomplished
it in safety. Then the facilities of western travel
were very imperfect. There was not a railroad beyond
Michigan, and staging over the worst of roads was
the only mode of conveyance from Lake Michigan to
the Mississippi. To obviate this difficulty, we journeyed
by steam and stage to Cincinnati, where seventeen
hundred miles of river course lay before us.
All spoke kindly of the
object, though none approvingly; and many evidently
regarded it as a wild chimera of the brain, and disappointment
the inevitable result; and it was, indeed, generally
believed, as I had been already assured, that I would
never find a St. Paul. But there was never an instance
when the sinking hope, or a desire to return, predominated
in my breast.
" 'Tis Providence that shapes
our ends,
Rough-hew them as we will."
At St. Louis, the New
York of the West, a combination of circumstances made
me a passenger up the river in the same cabin with
Mrs. Dr. Jones, of Galena, Illinois.
Had there been the lurking of a doubt relative to
the way, she was prepared to remove it. Having been
twice to St. Paul, she was the first to define its
locality. Her picture of it was not the most pleasing,
but I had sought for a correct one and found it. Her
words of cheer sent the sunshine of hope through my
heart, and the meeting with her will ever be regarded
as an important link in the chain of providences which
marked my way. Time has proved her not a "summer
friend," but a woman
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whose price is above rubies, whose worth
and virtues shine with increasing lustre [luster],
a blessing to the world, and blessing all within the
sphere of her influence. She kindly took the stranger
in a strange land to her own home, put in her way
the means of obtaining letters to the most important
families in vicinity, thus throwing light and cheerfulness
on my, at best, uncertain path.
Chapter XI
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