She couldn't marry one of them shadows of men, if she tried, and she
hain't never tried. No, her heart always has been, and is now, fur away,
a-travellin' through unknown regions, unknown, and yet more real to her
than Jonesville or Zoar, a-follerin' the one man in the world who is a
reality to her. Submit wuz engaged to a young Methodist minister by the
name of Samuel Danker. I remember him well. A good lookin' young fellow
at the time, with blue eyes and light hair, ruther long and curly, and
kinder wavin' back from his forward, and a deep spiritual look in his
eyes. In fact, his eyes looked right through the fashions and follys of
the civilized world, into the depths of ignorance, rivers of ruin and
despair, that wuz a-washin' over a human race, black jungles where naked
sin and natural depravities crouched hungry for victims.

Samuel Danker felt that he had got to go into heathen lands as a
missionary. He wuz engaged to Submit, and loved her dearly, and he urged
her to go too.

But Submit had a invalid father on her hands, a bed rid grandfather, and
three young brothers, too young to earn a thing, and they all on 'em
together hadn't a cent of money to their names. They had twenty-five
acres of middlin' poor land, and a old house.

Wall, Submit felt that she couldn't leave these helpless ones and go
to more foreign heathen lands. So, with a achin' heart, she let Samuel
Danker go from her, for he felt a call, loud, and she couldn't counsel
him to shet up his ears, or put cotton into 'em. Submit Tewksbury had
always loved and worked for the Methodist meetin' house (she jined it
on probation when she wuz thirteen). But although she always had been
extremely liberal in givin', and had made a practice of contributin'