The opposition soon came to naught, and the house was left to our peaceable occupancy.  The Local Preachers rendered valuable services in the protracted meeting, and also alternated in filling the appointment during my absence in caring for other portions of the charge.  Father Smith was not able to visit other neighborhoods, but my father was abundant in labors, extending his visits to every part of the charge and preaching usually twice, and sometimes three times on the Sabbath.

Having spent my first Sabbath at Waupun I next visited Ceresco, where a settlement had been made by the Wisconsin Phalanx, a Fourierite Association.  There was no direct route, as all previous travel had taken a circuit to the west, thereby striking the trail from Watertown.  But I deemed it best to open a track at the outset across the country to the point of destination.  Obtaining a horse and saddle, and substituting a pocket compass for the saddlebags, as that evidence of civilization had not yet reached the village, I started out on my trip.  Unfortunately the day was cloudy, and in the absence of the sun recourse at an early stage of the journey was had to the faithful compass, but unhappily not soon enough to avoid perplexity.  After having traveled some distance, as I believed in the right direction, I fell into a questioning, whether I should go to the right or left of a marsh lying directly before me.  The compass was brought to aid in deciding the question.  It was poised on the knob of the saddle, when, to my surprise, it seemed to point several degrees too far to the left.  I boxed the truant thing again and again, but could not bring the needle to point in any other direction.  So I concluded, if the mountain would not come to Mahomet, Mahomet must go to the mountain.  Out upon the trackless wilds, absolutely without any other guide, it would not do to ignore the compass.  But now a new question arose.  If the needle tells the truth, I must have been going in the wrong direction for, perhaps, some considerable distance.  In such case, it is impossible to conjecture how far I may be out of the direct line of travel or how far I may be astray.  The needle may point to the north pole, but I cannot be sure that, if I follow its guidance now, I will find Ceresco in the line of travel.  But there was no time to be lost.  So, deciding that I must follow the compass, I reined my horse into line and started on, I had not gone far, however, before I found myself confronted by another large marsh.  This must be avoided, and hence I made a circuit to the west and passed it, but in doing so, much precious time was lost, and speedily the night drew on.  I was now without sun, stars or even compass.  The stillness of the prairie was painful.  And the scattered trees of the openings in the deepening shades of the evening looked more like muffled ghosts with huge umbrellas, than the beautiful groves they had appeared when seen by the light of day.  Pushing on through the darkness, I soon found I was nearer my destination than I supposed.  Leaving the groves on the right and passing over the prairie to the left, I had not gone far when a light was visible in the distance.  On approaching, I found that I had reached Ceresco, where I was most hospitably entertained by Rev. Uriel Farmin, a Local Preacher and a member of the Association.