this we were for the present obliged to rest satisfied,
in our probationary tribulated allotment. I can truly
say, I travailed with many pangs to be delivered,
with breathings to Him who alone can help and in-
terpose, when all human aid is utterly unavailing.

It is wheat harvest; the grain is well filled; but in
many places, it is much injured by a kind of smut,
or blast. The grain is as large as good wheat, but
appears of a dusky color; and being bruised, or cut
in two, the contents are like soot, black and dusty.
Sometimes ten blasted ears for one sound one. In
divers instances, wheat fields are rendered entirely
useless. When one-half, or one-third, or even one-
tenth, is smutted wheat, it spoils the whole. The
farmer is obliged to wash all his wheat, through
three or four waters, before it is fit for bread.

No admission being apparent into the In-
dian country, as the best expedient, we concluded
to send by Capt. Elliott, Friends' Address, accompa-
nied by a short epistle of our own, to the Indians:
also, a letter to Col. McKee. We remain daily ex-
ercised in a patient, fervent travail, that the Supreme
Controller of events, may bring to pass his hidden
purposes, according to his own sacred determination,
to the exaltation of his own great name, in these
dark regions of violence, murder, and licentiousness
of almost every kind. The awful language of the
Most High to a backsliding people formerly, has
frequently impressed my mind, as applicable to the
inhabitants of these countries, with some few ex-
ceptions, “My soul loathed them, and their souls
abhorred me.”

This day a cannon was fired, for the direction of a
man supposed to be lost in the woods. It frequent-