It is a Massachusetts colony from Lenox, Pittsfield, and Washington
Mountain. These people came here for two purposes: to "get land for their
children," and to "take the new country for God and Methodism." But the
last object was first, and ever held its rank.

As you call around upon these detached families you find them thoughtful,
intelligent, and decidedly religious; although each family is alone in the
woods, they are not very lonesome, for familiar sounds reach them almost
every hour of the day. The deep-sounding cow bells, the dinner horns, the
ring of the ax, and the thunder of the falling tree keep them in happy
remembrance of their brethren and of their diligence and success, and often
wake the anticipation of the coming Sabbath, when they will blend their
songs and prayers around the mercy seat.

And now the longed-for Sunday morning has dawned. The woodman's ax lies
still, the dinner horn hangs upon its peg, and no treefall breaks the
sacred silence. The half-burned "backlog" is buried in ashes on the broad
stone hearth, and the door of each log cabin is simply shut--it needs no
lock--and from every direction all the people are seen approaching a large
log dwelling in a small clearing of central situation. It is the newest
house in the settlement, as its occupants have been here only a few weeks.
But they are well known in the colony, and have cordially "opened their
doors" and "provided for the meetings."

Joshua and Elizabeth Arnold are once more in their much-loved relation to
Methodism, the master and mistress of the "cottage chapel." And now, as the
meeting hour draws nigh, you see the people entering this little clearing
by two or three footpaths and two highways, a few in wagons and sleds drawn
by oxen, but mostly on foot. They are plainly but neatly clad, and every
requisite of becoming Sabbath decorum is plainly to be seen in both adults