"
"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.
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