“June 3.  This day took possession of my house.  Busied in making arrangements.  Shall build my own furnace.  Am sure now that I am in the right way.  Am determined no one shall come into the house.”

Much followed which Miss Sophonisba could not understand, until, under the date of July 1, she found recorded: 

“Being over at Neponset, looking for the plant witch-hazel, bethought myself to ask of the fellow they call Indian Will.  Going to the little hovel he lives in, found him lying very ill with pleurisy.  By the grace of God was able to help him.  His wife told me where to find what I sought.  To my surprise, discovered she knew much of its virtues.  It may be these people have a knowledge of simples worth investigating.

“Sept. 3.  No nearer my great end.  My means fast growing less.  Have borrowed from Jonathan Phelps, but the sum is but a drop for such a purpose.  Most like some of these people, who complain of my price for the exercise of my skill, would give me threefold did they know what I work for, if they might share in its result.  Yet I know I am in the right way.  Should I die before I come to its end—­Is Death the gate of knowledge?”

“Oct. 7.  I advance just so far and no farther.  Why is it that I see my path so plain just to the one point, and there it stops?  How small our understanding of the endless mysteries around us! yet should something differing from every day’s experience befall us, how quickly we speak of the supernatural!

“Oct. 29.  No nearer, no nearer, and my money all but done.  Took some of my books into Boston and offered them to sell.  Refused, of course.  How should they know their value?  Have sent them to London.  It was hard, but patience! patience!”

“Oct. 30.  This day Indian Will brought the plants I wanted.  Have bade him never to tell any one that he comes here.  He only has ever entered.  So far as I know, he has obeyed.  He thinks me like one of his own powahs.

“Dec. 15.  At last!  I have passed the crisis, and without accident.  How simple it seems, now that I know!  It was my last bit of the essential metal:  like from like.  Each element has its seed in itself.  The poor people say I have been good to them.  Should success be final, I can indeed help mankind.

“Dec. 16.  Last night, lifting the crucible from the furnace, spilled the liquor on the floor.  Had I one particle more of the essential element!  All was utterly lost:  no one will lend to me.

“Dec. 18.  What have I done that I should feel guilt?  What was worth the life of such a useless creature to the interests of mankind?  Why did he not trust my word and give me what I needed when I asked him?  If he had not waked from his half-drunken sleep when I made the attempt, I would have given him threefold.  I gave him his life once:  why will not that atone?  No one will know ever.  I will devote my life to relieve distress.  What is such as his, weighed in the balance with my purpose?  It is strange that since then I have forgot the very essential thing in the process.  I cannot read my own cipher in which I wrote it down; but it will come, it will come.