counts of his state of feeling through
endless journeyings and terrible prostrations of strength. He was always
travelling about--now to the Susquehanna, now back to New
England--apparently at times with the restlessness of disease, for this
roving about must have prevented him from ever deepening the impression
made by his preaching, which after all was only through an interpreter,
for he never gave himself time to learn the language.

Yet after some months he did find a settlement of Indians, about eighty
miles from the fork of Delaware, at a place called Crossweeksung, who
were far more disposed to attend to him. They listened so eagerly, that
day after day they would travel after him from village to village, hardly
taking any heed to secure provisions for themselves. The description of
their conduct is like that of those touched by Wesleyan preaching. They
threw themselves on the ground, wept bitterly, and prayed aloud, with the
general enthusiasm of excitement, though, he expressly says, without
fainting or convulsions, and even the White men around, who came to
scoff, were deeply impressed.

David Brainerd had at last his hour of bliss! He was delivered from his
melancholy by the joy of such results, and in trembling happiness
baptized his converts in the river beside their wigwams before leaving
them to proceed to a village on the Susquehanna, where he hoped for an
interview with the chief Sachem of the Delawares.

The place, however, was in the wildest confusion and uproar, it being the
period of a great festival, when every one was too tipsy to attend to
him. At an island called Juneauta, he met a very remarkable personage, a
Powaw, who bore the reputation of a reformer, anxious to restore the
ancient religion of the Red man, which had become corrupted by
intercourse with the White and his vices.

His aspect was the most dreadful thing Brainerd had ever seen. He wore a
shaggy bearskin coat, hood, and stockings, and a hideous, painted mask,
so that no part of his person was visible, not even the hand in which he
held an instrument made of the shell of a tortoise, with dry corn within,
and he came up rattling this, and dancing with all his might, and with
such gesticulations that, though assured that he intended no injury, it
was impossible not to shrink back as this savage creature came close.

Yet he was a thoughtful man, such as would have been a philosopher in
ancient Greece or Rome. He took the m