After the end of 1843, I found faith in the words of William Miller, that this was the time of the Lord's coming. That Spring, my neighbors failed to plow their fields. They knew the Lord would come before another winter. The failed prophecies of December 31, 1843, and March 21, 1844, had only strengthened our faith. The Reverend Snow predicted October 22, as the date when Jesus would return. I began to count the declining days.

On the 22nd I awoke with a bitter taste in my mouth. I spent the day sitting with my family, singing from the Millenial Harp, but I needed to be alone. At dusk, my head spinning, I opened the front door and stepped into the cold air.