ndment in a dream to go seven miles
from his home in Germantown to a certain wharf in Philadelphia, and
inquire on board a ship just arrived for a man who was ill, to take him
home and to specially care for him. He hitched his horse to his
carriage, and followed the instructions of his dream."

"Were these facts the doors that led you out into light?" I asked.

"I never read these facts, Emily, until after my vision was made clear,
and I saw the future that lives and waits for all."

"Girls," called Aunt Hildy, "ef you've got through with the meetin', I
want to ask about these biscuit; I'm afraid they're going to be poor;
come look at 'em, Emily."

"The biscuit are all right, Aunt Hildy. Did you hear what the preacher
said."

"No, not really, heard all I could without neglectin' of my work."

"She has been telling me a story of a good man. We will ask her to
preach again."

"Perhaps," said Aunt Hildy, "more'n just you and I will hear her. I
can't see how all these ideas are comin' out, and 'pears to me, it looks
as ef we'd got to meet, and have a battle somewhere before long. The
troubles are simmerin' over the fire of different minds, and I shall
never sell my birthright over a mess of pottage; that's jest what I
shan't do. It has stuck to me where everything else has failed, and I'm
never agoin' to let go of it."

I knew to what she alluded, for our good minister had stirred the waters
with his sermons, and they were, of course, induced by his fearing the
progress of liberal thought in our midst. We had ourselves received a
sermon evidently directed at us, which described the act of going to
hear Mr. Ballou as a wrong step. Even if we had not been clear-sighted
enough to have taken the sermon to ourselves, we should have been
reminded of it by the looks of some of the congregation, who sought out
our pew with strong reproof in their eyes; among those whose eyes met
mine in this manner, I remember most distinctly Jane North and Deacon
Grover. I smiled involuntarily, and with a glance of horror at my
wickedness, they turned their faces toward the preacher.

Clara was not with us that Sabbath, for which I was glad. I wondered
what would be done, and the week after mother left us, Jane North came
over, and I expected to hear some talk concerning it.

She brought her knitting in a little gingham bag on her arm, and there
was no way to get rid of her or of her coming talk, which, I confess, I
dreaded.

"Oh, de