Italian Mission

To cross a vast continent, and a vaster ocean, demands a motive of considerable force. When such a journey leads one directly away from his cherished home—from the wife of his youth, and the children who cluster round to hsp a father's name—then serious affairs surely should be sounding an imperative call in the ear of the traveller.
I have performed such a journey, and under such circumstances.
Was I led by the renown of ancient Italy—the teeming page of her immortal story? Ah! no. The smile around my hearth and home are a thousand times dearer to my heart than all the deeds of departed heroes. Was there a charm for me in the mouldering ruins of pagan temples? or in the elegant structures of papal worship? or were these unthought of in that hour of untold emotion when I rent myself from the realities of present happiness to seek an almost unknown future.
As a servant of Jesus Christ, I was going to oppose "one who exalteth himself against all that is called God," and held an usurped authority over many nations.
Italy appeared a death-wrapt land, where the errors of ages were ready to combat my attempt with gigantic powers. I have now been to that country, and publish these letters to my familiar friends, as a brief record of my mission.