As we had no minister at Babelmandel, I need not tell the courteous reader we had no church; but when we were visited by a preacher, we contrived to make a temporary place of worship, in one of the buildings which the speculators were erecting for a tavern. On the occasion of Mr. Bell's preaching, the weather being calm and bright, a pulpit was raised in the open air, under a large tree—the elm under which my sweet baby's sad wake was held, and the settlers assembled around him from all parts of the settlement well on to the number of a thousand persons, old and young,—the greatest congregation we had yet collected. I missed, however, Mr. Waft from the crowd; an extraordinary thing, considering the business of the day; it being understood, that if Mr. Bell gave satisfaction, we were to engage him for three months.

At first, I imagined something had surely happened to the bodie, and I was angry with myself that any thought about him should interfere with my attention to the sermon, which was really worthy of all I could bestow on it, being not only sound and orthodox, but delivered with a force and style of language far above common. Towards the conclusion, I however discovered him walking at some distance among the trees behind the pulpit, as if keeping aloof from the congregation, yet curious to see what was going on. By and by he drew nearer and nearer, till he caught my eye; which he had no sooner done, than he shook his head in a significant manner, and gave a queer distrustful smile, as much as to say. This is poor stuff, and will never do;—I was both vexed and surprised.

It would not be easy to describe what I suffered at witnessing such irreverence, being totally incapable of understanding what it meant, for the matter and the manner of the preacher were both most excellent; so I resolved, as soon as the service should be over, to interrogate the motives of such indecorum; but at the conclusion, the molester was nowhere to be seen.