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be proud of, perhaps—but not to be approached incautiously, or too near; except by a few familiar ones. . . .
I find less to complain of and far more to enjoy in the ministry than I have ever anticipated: my people are thus far willing and impressible at least; I say whatever seems right, and they listen; I preached yesterday to about 400. . . . If I can do my duty, there is much to be effected here. . . .
We met Mr.——the richest man (about) in the Society . . . he ere long proceeded to compliment me on “the good whipping I gave them Sunday afternoon on Freedom of Speech.” . . . I have not yet found one who approves the war or disapproves free speech on the minister's part and I begin to feel somewhat confident that they will stand the trials I have ready for them. . . . I have talked very plainly in private.
But in the midst of his satisfaction doubts occurred, and
Wentworth wrote to his mother:—
Strive as I may, I still feel myself in a position to some extent artificial. . . . I cannot reconcile myself to the recurring forms even of worship, still less those connected with church organization.
I find no outward difficulty, but only inward; this may decrease, but it looks more like increase.
To his Aunt Nancy he confided that he sometimes felt ‘terribly false, . . . like
Mr. Emerson with a hole in the heel of his stocking.
(He refused to go to pay a visit on this account.) “Why, nobody will ”’
