stop right now," they thought, "and break up the
Society at once. After all, sudden death would be easier than
slowly wasting away."

Alas! that this little community with its gospel of peace, this
blissful life of unity and brotherly love which had meant so much
to all of them, that this should now be doomed.

As these disheartened people walked along toward the farm the
sparkling winter sun rolled merrily on across the blue sky. From
the glistening snow rose a refreshing coolness, which should have
put life and courage into them; while from the fir-clad hills
encircling the parish, there fell a soothing peace and stillness.

At last they were at the Ingmar Farm.

In the living-room of the farmhouse, close to the ceiling, hung an
old picture which had been painted by some local artist a hundred
years before their time. It represented a city surrounded by a high
wall, above which could be seen the roofs and gables of many
buildings, some of which were red farmhouses with turf roofs.
Others were white manor houses with slate roofs. Others, again,
showed massive copper-plated towers, after the manner of the
Kistine Church at Falun. Outside the city wall were promenading
gentlemen, in kneebreeches and buckled shoes, who carried Bengal
canes. A coach was seen driving out of the gateway of the town, in
which were seated ladies in powdered wigs and wearing Watteau hats.
Beyond the wall were trees, with a profusion of dark green foliage;
and on the ground, between patches of tall, waving grass, ran
little shimmering brooklets. At the bottom of the picture was
painted in large, ornate letters: "This is God's Holy City
Jerusalem."

The old canvas being hung like that, so close to the ceiling, it
seldom attracted any notice. Most of the people who visited the
Ingmar Farm did not even know of its being there.

But that day it was enframed in a wreath of green whortleberry
twigs, so that it instantly caught the eye of the caller. Eva
Gunnersdotter saw it at once, and remarked under her breath: "Aha!
Now the folks on the Ingmar Farm know that we must perish. That's
why they want us to turn our eyes toward the Heavenly City."

Karin and Halvor came forward to greet her, looking even more
gloomy and low spirited than the other Hellgumists. "It's plain
they know now that the end is near," she thought.

Eva Gunnersdotter, being the oldest person present, was placed at
the head of the long table. In front of her lay an opened