dian interpreter's; and, moreover, the spot was a mile and a half
from the Indian wigwams, no small consideration to so weakly a man, thus
poorly fed. However, the Indians were pleased with his addresses, and
seemed touched by them; but the evil habits of the White men were the
terrible stumbling-block. Parties of them would come into the town, and
vex the missionary's ears with their foul tongues, making a scandalous
contrast to the grave, calm manners of the Indians. More than ever did
he love solitude, and when with his own hands he had built himself a log
hut, where he could be alone when he pleased, his relief was great.

He was not the highly educated scholar and practical theorist that his
predecessor had been: he seems to have had no plans or systems, and
merely to have tried to fulfil immediate needs; but he soon found that he
could not hope to benefit his Red flock without a school, so he made a
journey to New Jersey to entreat for means to set one up, and this was
done, with his interpreter as master. His journey was made on horseback,
and was no small undertaking, for even between Stockbridge and Kanaumeek
he had once lost his way, and had to sleep a night in the woods.

He had by this time thoroughly repented of the uncharitableness and
hastiness of his speech about Mr. Whittlesey, and he took a journey to
New Haven to send in a thoroughly humble and Christian-like apology,
requesting to be permitted to take his degree. Twice he was refused, and
the third time was told that the only condition on which the degree would
be granted would be the making up his term of residence at Yale, which
was, of course, not possible to a licensed minister in full employment,
and in fact was an insulting proposal to a man of his standing and
character.

His journey cost him dear, for as he was riding home he was attacked with
violent pain in the face and shiverings, which forced him to halt at the
first shelter he could find, happily with kind friends, who nursed him
for a fortnight before he could return home. He believed that had his
illness seized him in his log house at home, he must certainly have died
for want of care and attendance, although he was much beloved by his poor
Indians.

His life was indeed a frightfully hard one, and would have been so for a
healthy man; for he had to work with his own hands to store provisions
for his horse in the winter, and that when weak and suffering the more
for want of pro