where there are no Sunday schools, and clothes are as scarce as churches.
Failing to move Parson Peck and Elder Knapp in the matter, and despairing
of an early answer to her personal prayers, she resolved on a bold move,
"An' it was only after many a sleepless, prayerful night," namely, to
carry the Bible into the heathen's stronghold.

Thus it was that one bright morning in June she might have been seen,
prim and proper -- almost glorified, she felt, as she set her lips just
right in the mirror -- making for the Pipestave Pond, Bible in hand and
spectacles clean wiped, ready to read appropriate selections to the
unregenerate.

She was full of the missionary spirit when she left Myanos, and partly
full when she reached the Orchard Street Trail; but the spirit was
leaking badly, and the woods did appear so wild and lonely that she
wondered if women had any right to be missionaries. When she came
in sight of the pond, the place seemed unpleasantly different from
Myanos and where was the Indian camp? She did not dare to shout;
indeed, she began to wish she were home again, but the sense of duty
carried her fully fifty yards along the pond, and then she came to an
impassable rock, a sheer bank that plainly said, "Stop!" Now she must
go back or up the bank. Her Yankee pertinacity said, "Try first up the
bank," and she began a long, toilsome ascent, that did not end until
she came out on a bigh, open rock which, on its farther side, had a
sheer drop and gave a view of the village and of the sea.

Whatever joy she had on again seeing her bome was speedily queued in
the fearsome discovery that she was right over the Indian camp, and
the two inmates looked so utterly, dreadfully savage that she was
thankful they had not seen her. At once she shrank back; but on