The Doctor and I had a jolly time in the “Susan Nippers.” She brought us before a famous breeze to the Sachem’s wharf in two hours from the Light House. The Doctor said he never enjoyed a sail so much and such sort of things. But in fact he did seem to be delighted with it and you would have imagined he was born for a sailor.

By the way, speaking of jolly time with “the Doctor” reminds [me] that Geddes was hugely pleased when he came to hear that the Doctor had been playing ninepins. There was here then—you remember that clever old fellow—the famous Judge Bronson. He is Chief Justice of New York and the beau ideal of that character—very highly honored at home. Geddes says, “In our parts they would kill a Doctor of Divinity for playing ninepins. Last year they tried to excommunicate or unlicense one for boarding at a house where some of the boarders were permitted to dance,” and so on. He would like amazingly to tell at home that he had play’d ninepins with a Yankee Doctor of Divinity and the Chief Justice of the State of New York.

So he set me to plotting it and without any difficulty I got the Doctor to join sides with me against the Judge & Geddes—Connecticut against New York. They thought they could beat us easy, but the Doctor and I took off our coats. The Doctor got the highest string, I the next, and Geddes least of all. It tickled Bushnell very much. He crowed about it a great deal, till Geddes vowed he’d never roll with a D.D. again. “He has mistaken his profession,” says he, “he was cut out for a gambler.”

Au revoir. We did not talk much about Christian Nurture—and what he said I was not particularly pleased with. There seemed to me to be too much want of respect to his opponents. The matter of the Church—I enlarged upon and gave my opinions somewhat freely. We did not discuss it, properly—for it is a matter I will not argue upon—if I can help it. I do not feel able to—but the fact is there was nothing to argue.

I was not surprised to find the Doctor considered the matter a good deal as I did—to a certain extent at least. That is, he agreed that the present orthodox view or plan of the local churches was very objectionable—not warranted by scripture, and that a reform or change was very desirable. He was not prepared to say that the local churches should be abandoned, but he had made up his mind that a member of the church at large (i.e. anyone who himself called himself a follower of Christ) should not be excluded from the sacraments because he was not a member of a particular association of [297]believers—(local church.) And he wished that his church could be organised on some plan whereby anyone could partake with them in the communion (of the church of Christ) and any parents themselves not members of the church could have their children baptized, &c.

He was very glad indeed that I had joined his church in communion, although I had not professed to join it in faith. He did not at all disapprove (l mean he did not say that he did) of the course I have been led to pursue. And though he did not intimate what he should have done if he were in my place, he said that his own views had changed very much since he joined the church by profession of Faith, and he thought it was an open question and one of great difficulty. It was troubling him more than any other similar question. If the local church organization was necessary—and he was afraid of the consequences of abandoning it-and if the Profession of Faith was necessary to such an institution, then it should [be] in the simplest form.

I have but little idea when you will be in New Milford—but I believe I shall direct there as the quickest way to get this to you.

We have an Easterly storm here now—which if it reaches you will be likely to cool your pedestrian ardor. It is very cold and disagreeable. I suspect if I had time I should feel lonely and all that, but we have a great deal to do. I believe I shall have to go to New Haven to get another hand, next week. The Hotel has closed.

I hope that you are going to be in New Haven. I suppose indeed that you are, as I hear nothing to the contrary. I have given my advice in favor of John’s anchoring there another year.

I took a big sheet. I hope it will not cost you double postage. There! I’ve lost my pen in the inkstand. It’s not double postage, I know—don’t tell me it is. I’ve taken a big sheet—and—after all I shall not fill it. I wish I’d lost my pen two lines sooner. ’Twould ha’ been a good reason for not droning on.