Brethren, let us move for a “Missionary Day” in our conferences, and put the Missionary Societies under requisition for the very best material they can furnish to kindle a fire of missionary enthusiasm in our churches. The Sabbath following this Worcester meeting was spent by Mr. Woodworth in Worcester, Mr. Cutler in Gardner in the morning, and with his former charge in Athol, in the evening; while I went to Keene, New Hampshire, and spent the day with my old Seminary class-mate, Rev. Cyrus Richardson. His sensitive regard for my physical well-being, led him to let me off with three preaching services, at all of which I had to talk A. M. A. and all the time. The evening meeting was a crowded union service, Rev. Mr. Leech coming over with his people in full force, showing that the churches of Keene have a warm place in their hearts for missionary work among the despised races in America.
By previous arrangement, we were to again unite our forces at Buckland, near Sherburne Falls, on Monday afternoon; but
“The best laid schemes o’ mice and men gang aft agley.”
Mr. Woodworth failed to start, Mr. Cutler missed his train, and I found myself dumped at a station, marked Buckland in the railway guide, three miles away from the town, and the only living creature I discovered, from which to get directions what to do and where to go, was a poor little cat that came bounding to my side, purring out as plainly as anything could be said—“I am glad to see you.” After a brief interchange of the compliments of the season, I buttoned my overcoat, adjusted my satchel, and started up the only road it was possible to take, and in the only direction possible—for the road terminated at a river, on the bank of which stood the depot. It proved to be the right way. How easy it would be to get along if the right way was the only way in which we could go! As I drew near the village, the cheery notes of the church bell rung out their merry call, while well-filled carriages, whirling along in the direction of the church, told me that the people were evidently interested in missions. I was on hand, and in time. A fine audience had gathered; but my brethren, where were they? Well, they did not come; that was all I knew, and in their absence I did the best I could. The gift of continuance was given me in copious plenteousness, and the time was exhausted before I was. I failed to notice, however, whether my audience was not also exhausted. The next day the _disjecta membra_ came together again at Sherburne Falls, and henceforth to the close kept together.