ctacles (the
Secretary) used to sit a bit below him, and a dozen or two
well-disposed persons of both sexes, with sharp and anxious
countenances, used to sit round in a half circle, listening. The
wise-looking man in the spectacles would, on motion of some one present,
read a long report, which was generally made up of a list of donations
and expenditures for getting up a scheme to evangelize the world, and
get Mr. Singleton Spyke off to Antioch. It seemed to me as if a deal of
time and money was expended on Mr. Singleton Spyke, and yet Mr. Spyke
never got off to Antioch. When the man of the spectacles got through
reading the long paper, and the good-natured man in the chair got
through explaining that the heavy amount of twenty-odd thousand dollars
had been judiciously expended for the salary of officers of the society,
and the getting Brothers Spurn and Witherspoon off to enlighten the
heathen, Brother Singleton Spyke's mission would come up. Every one
agreed that there ought to be no delay in getting Brother Spyke off to
Antioch; but a small deficiency always stood in the way. And Brother
Spyke seemed spiked to this deficiency; for notwithstanding Mrs. Slocum,
who was reckoned the strongest-minded woman, and best business-man of
the society, always made speeches in favor of Brother Spyke and his
mission (a special one), he never got off to Antioch.

"Feeling forlorn, smarting under disappointment, and undecided where to
go after I left the house in Mercer street, I looked in at the house of
the 'Foreign Missions.' Mrs. Slocum, as I had many times before seen
her, was warmly contesting a question concerning Brother Spyke, with the
good-natured man in the chair. It was wrong, she said, so much money
should be expended, and Brother Spyke not got off to Antioch. So leaving
them debating Mr. Spyke's mission to Antioch, I proceeded back to the
house in Mercer street, and inquired for the landlady of the house. The
landlady, the woman that opened the door said, was engaged. The door was
shut in my face, and I turned away more wounded in my feelings than
before. Day and night I contemplated some plan by which to ascertain
Anna's place of abode, her pursuit in life, her wants. When we parted
she could neither write nor read: I had taken writing lessons, by which
I could communicate tolerably well, while my occupation afforded me the
means of improvement. A few weeks passed (I continued to watch the
house), and I recognized he