It is my
lot, and I repine not that such it is, to be for ever a wayfarer,
in the desert where there are but few fountains to refresh the
spirit. When I say desert, young gentleman, I speak not in the
literal language of the world, for truly it were a most sinful
denial of God's bounty were I to say, looking round upon the mighty
forests through which I pass, and upon the rich soil over which
I travel, that my way lies not through a country covered, thrice
covered, with the best worldly bounties of the Lord. But it is
a moral desert which my speech would signify. The soul of man is
here lacking the blessed fountains of the truth--the mind of man
here lacketh the holy and joy-shedding lights of the spirit; and
it rejoiceth me, therefore, when I meet with one, like thyself,
in whose language I find a proof that thou hast neither heard the
word with idle ears, nor treasured it in thy memory with unapplying
mind. May I ask of thee, my young friend, who thou art, and by
what name I shall call thee?--not for the satisfaction of an idle
curiosity, to know either thy profession or thy private concerns,
but that I may the better speak to thee in our conference
hereafter, Thou hast rightly conjectured as to my calling--and my
own name, which is one unknown to most even in these forests, is
John Cross--I come of a family in North Carolina, which still abide
in that state, by the waters of the river Haw.
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