dience was ranged around the outside. The little people marched
in, and up the broad aisle, singing:

"We come, we come, with loud acclaim,
To sing the praise of Jesus' name;
And make the vaulted temple ring
With loud hosannas to our King."

The platform--they called it that on such occasions--was full of
clergymen and speakers for the festival. Some of the older eminent
divines, some who were to be eminent later on, some of the high
dignitaries of the city; and they could hardly fail to be inspired at
the sight of the sweet, happy, youthful faces.

And how they sang! The most popular thing of that day was:

"There is a happy land--
Far, far away."

It was fresh then and had not been parodied to everything. No doubt it
would have shocked some of the sticklers if they had known that the
words and tune were, in a measure, adapted from a pretty opera song:

"I have come from a happy land,
Where care is unknown;
And first in a joyous band
I'll make thee mine own."

There were many other hymns that appealed to the hearts of the children
of those days. "I Think When I Read that Sweet Story of Old," and "Jesus
Loves Me, this I Know."

There were speeches, short and to the point, some with a glint of humor
in them, and then hymns again. Perhaps we have done better since, but
the grand enthusiasm of that time has not been reached in later
reunions.

It seemed to the little girl that this really was the crowning glory of
her life. She could not have guessed under what circumstances she was to
recall it, indeed this day had no future to her. At first her mother had
insisted the walk was too long, but Steve said he and Dolly would bring
her home in the carriage. Margaret promised to get her new white dress
done, and it was to be tucked almost up to the waist. Her mother gave in
at last, and went down to see the children, being delighted herself.

Aunt Eunice was there, too. She had come to the city for the
long-talked-of visit, and next week was to be Quaker Meeting. She had
not been to one in years. Indeed, she could hardly call herself a
Friend. She had married out of the faith and said _you_ oftener than
_thee_, but she kept to the pretty, soft gray attire and plain bonnet.

Hanny and the Deans and Nora thought her "just lovely." Hanny went to
the Friends' Meeting-House with her on Sunday afternoon, down in Hester
Street. It was severely plain, and the men sat on one