NEW YORK, January 3d, 1857.
MY DEAR FAMILY:
A happy New Year to each of you. I am well. I spent Christmas in Philadelphia in a public party of the Saints—say 300 persons—assembled in a large hall neatly furnished and lighted. There were prayers, hymns, songs, recitations, comic, tragic, sublime and ridiculous. There was some music and dancing, merry making, eating and drinking till midnight. I did not dance, but I preached and bore testimony.
On the following Sunday I preached twice in the same hall, some 500 persons being present.
On Wednesday, December 31st, I arrived in this city and put up with President John Taylor. This closed the year 1856.
January 1st, 1857.—I attended a public party of the Saints here from 5 P.M. till midnight. It was like the one in Philadelphia—only there was no dancing. About 400 persons were present. During this party the news arrived of the landing of 220 Saints at Castle Garden direct from Europe, all in good health and spirits. These we visited next day in company with Presidents Taylor, G. A. Smith, and E. Snow, who are here now, and we shall hold a council. The Saints here are mostly emigrants from Europe and very poor. I am now well clothed, and God has opened my way to obtain sufficient funds for travelling expenses.
A letter from my Brother Nelson announces that all is well there, and they are overjoyed to hear that I am to visit them. He is trying to sell and go to the valley.
Brother Orson writes to me that all is well with him.
I have gone as far East as I intend to go. I hope soon to commence to return westward, visiting my brother Nelson as I go. The darkness which broods over this country can be felt—it is no place for me. I feel like going to the frontiers and fitting out as soon as grass grows.
The whole country is being overwhelmed with the most abominable lying, mockery, and hatred of the Saints, and with all manner of corruption. The legions of spirits are let loose and are working wonders. All things are ripening for a universal overthrow of all human power in this land.
I am almost an intruder wherever I go. I am a stranger and the world knows me not. There are a few of the Saints and others who will hear us, and not exactly demand a vote of thanks, although some of them would think it a great condescension for which we ought to thank them.