He was a good deal of a perfectionist, and evidently looked upon himself with no small satisfaction, as a living illustration of his favorite doctrine.
"St.John says," this was the style of his discourse, "St.John says, 'He that is born of God, doth not commit sin' Now, _if_ I am born of God, I do not commit sin." I was too cold and too weary to argue the point, so I let him have it all his own way.

I believe he must have thought me rather a dull companion; but at least he gave me the credit of being a good listener.
It was almost dark when we reached Lawton's.

The Aux Plaines[20] was frozen, and the house was on the other side.

By loud shouting, we brought out a man from the building, and he succeeded in cutting the ice, and bringing a canoe over to us; but not until it had become difficult to distinguish objects in the darkness.
A very comfortable house was Lawton's, after we did reach it--carpeted, and with a warm stove--in fact, quite in civilized style, Mr.Weeks, the man who brought us across, was the major-domo, during the temporary absence of Mr.Lawton.
Mrs.Lawton was a young woman, and not ill-looking.

She complained bitterly of the loneliness of her condition, and having been "brought out there into the woods; which was a thing she had not expected, when she came from the East." We did not ask her with what expectations she had come to a wild, unsettled country; but we tried to comfort her with the assurance that things would grow better in a few years.