W.A.—­Sir, you have set me about a work that has struck a dart though my very soul; I have been talking about God and religion to my wife, in order, as you directed me, to make a Christian of her, and she has preached such a sermon to me as I shall never forget while I live.

R.C.—­No, no, it is not your wife has preached to you; but when you were moving religious arguments to her, conscience has flung them back upon you.

W.A.—­Ay, sir, with such force as is not to be resisted.

R.C.—­Pray, Will, let us know what passed between you and your wife; for I know something of it already.

W.A.—­Sir, it is impossible to give you a full account of it; I am too full to hold it, and yet have no tongue to express it; but let her have said what she will, though I cannot give you an account of it, this I can tell you, that I have resolved to amend and reform my life.

R.C.—­But tell us some of it:  how did you begin, Will?  For this has been an extraordinary case, that is certain.  She has preached a sermon, indeed, if she has wrought this upon you.

W.A.—­Why, I first told her the nature of our laws about marriage, and what the reasons were that men and women were obliged to enter into such compacts as it was neither in the power of one nor other to break; that otherwise, order and justice could not be maintained, and men would run from their wives, and abandon their children, mix confusedly with one another, and neither families be kept entire, nor inheritances be settled by legal descent.

R.C.—­You talk like a civilian, Will.  Could you make her understand what you meant by inheritance and families?  They know no such things among the savages, but marry anyhow, without regard to relation, consanguinity, or family; brother and sister, nay, as I have been told, even the father and the daughter, and the son and the mother.

W.A.—­I believe, sir, you are misinformed, and my wife assures me of the contrary, and that they abhor it; perhaps, for any further relations, they may not be so exact as we are; but she tells me never in the near relationship you speak of.

R.C.—­Well, what did she say to what you told her?

W.A.—­She said she liked it very well, as it was much better than in her country.

R.C.—­But did you tell her what marriage was?

W.A.—­Ay, ay, there began our dialogue.  I asked her if she would be married to me our way.  She asked me what way that was; I told her marriage was appointed by God; and here we had a strange talk together, indeed, as ever man and wife had, I believe.

N.B.—­This dialogue between Will Atkins and his wife, which I took down in writing just after he told it me, was as follows:-

Wife.—­Appointed by your God!—­Why, have you a God in your country?

W.A.—­Yes, my dear, God is in every country.

Wife.—­No your God in my country; my country have the great old
Benamuckee God.