Next day was the Sabbath, the oldest of blessings, the poor man's day. By me it has ever been regarded with delight, for I have enjoyment in the solemnity wherewith we are commanded to observe it. The day of rest, the property of individual man; no master may exact labour from his servant on that day, nor may the willing slave exert his sinews in toil without sinning against himself; for his own frame, after six days’ labour, is needful of rest, and hath been enjoined to receive it by a hallowed and everlasting ordinance. Yet, though thus profoundly impressed with reverence for the Sabbath, the sun, at his rising, beheld me busy amidst the fallen trees which had been spared from the burning, selecting logs for the construction of a new habitation.

The season was far advanced; it was already September; and unless I could provide a house before the rains set in, it would be necessary to move my family back to Olympus. The expense I could ill afford; for the payment of the first instalment on my land—(I promised to pay by equal annual instalments in seven years)—and the cost of bringing us from New York, together with various necessaries we stood in need of for the winter, had grievously lightened my purse; moreover, the baby was taken ill during the night, and it was heart-breaking to look upon her lying on the ground, and to reflect on the miserable tabernacle of sticks and bark raised in the storm, which was all our dwelling: but whether I offended by yielding to the suggestions of those temporal griefs, is a question remitted to a higher tribunal than the judgment even of Christian men.

In the course of the day I picked out a sufficient number of logs, contracted for bringing them to the spot, and for help to notch them for joining. Thus, by daybreak on Monday, my new house was progressing; and it was well I had been so alert; for, many of our neighbours’ houses having been destroyed by the fire, the hire of teams, and the rate of carpenters’ wages, were, in the course of a few days, much increased.