ld not do it. My decision
caused an estrangement between us which lasted for years. On the day
preceding the delivery of my sermon I left for Ashton on the afternoon
train; and in the same car, but as far away from me as she could get,
Mary sat alone and wept throughout the journey. She was going to my
mother, but she did not speak to me; and I, for my part, facing both
alienation from her and the ordeal before me, found my one comfort in
Lucy Foot's presence and understanding sympathy.

There was no church in Ashton, so I preached my sermon in its one little
school-house, which was filled with a curious crowd, eager to look at
and hear the girl who was defying all conventions by getting out of
the pew and into the pulpit. There was much whispering and suppressed
excitement before I began, but when I gave out my text silence fell upon
the room, and from that moment until I had finished my hearers listened
quietly. A kerosene-lamp stood on a stand at my elbow, and as I preached
I trembled so violently that the oil shook in its glass globe; but I
finished without breaking down, and at the end Dr. Peck, who had his own
reasons for nervousness, handsomely assured me that my first sermon was
better than his maiden effort had been. It was evidently not a failure,
for the next day he invited me to follow him around in his circuit,
which included thirty-six appointments; he wished me to preach in
each of the thirty-six places, as it was desirable to let the various
ministers hear and know me before I applied for my license as a local
preacher.

The sermon also had another result, less gratifying. It brought out,
on the following morning, the first notice of me ever printed in a
newspaper. This was instigated by my brother-in-law, and it was brief
but pointed. It read:

A young girl named Anna Shaw, seventeen years old, [1] preached at Ashton
yesterday. Her real friends deprecate the course she is pursuing.

[Footnote 1: A misstatement by the brother-in-law. Dr. Shaw was at
this time twenty-three years old.--E. J.]

The little notice had something of the effect of a lighted match applied
to gunpowder. An explosion of public sentiment followed it, the entire
community arose in consternation, and I became a bone of contention over
which friends and strangers alike wrangled until they wore themselves
out. The members of my family, meeting in solemn council, sent for me,
and I responded. They had a proposition to make, and th