pockets were filled. He was so closely pursued at that time, that he lay
down close to a large log and covered himself with dead leaves, and one
of his pursuers, a moment after, stood on that very log and peered into
the distance, saying, "I wonder which track the scamp took."

I must not tell you more about this grandfather, whose history filled me
full of wonder, but must hasten on to meet Aunt Phebe, who came
according to appointment, and found a warm reception. She had a fine
face, was tall and well-formed, her hair was a light-brown, and her eyes
a bright, pure blue; she had a pleasant mouth and evenly set teeth, and
she was a sweet singer. She is yet living, and sings to-day a "Rose tree
in full blooming" with as sweet a cadence as when I was a child.

Clara was drawn toward her, and brought some of her best thoughts to the
surface; read to her some of her own little poems, and wrote one for
her, speaking tenderly of the past and hopefully of the future. Aunt
Phebe had a nature to appreciate the beautiful, and ought herself to
have been given the privilege of a later day, that she might have
expressed her own good and true thoughts. She was a member of the
Baptist church, and while we had no fear of condemnation from her lips,
we knew she had not as yet tested this new thought that was now
agitating our minds. She said she would like to go with us to hear
"Father Ballou," as he was called by the Universalist people, and Clara,
said:

"Well, Mrs. ----, the day is coming when all shall see and rejoice at
the knowledge they have long desired; this will be the real fruit that
has been promised by the hope of the soul for years; and it is not new,
it is an old, old truth, and for this reason there will be less
preparation needed to accept it. The soil is ready, and the hand of the
age will drop the seed in the furrows which the years have made."

"This talk is as good as a sermon," said Aunt Phebe, "I would like to
hear you every week. Learning the work of wisdom is not an easy task,
and all these thoughts come as helping hands to us; we are never too old
to learn."

Aunt Phebe was free from all vanity; she dressed simply, and was truly
economical. Her hands were never idle; she had always something to do;
and during the few days she spent with us she insisted on helping. A
huge basket of mending yielded to her deft hands, and patches and darns
were made without number. These were among our great necessities, for