On glancing about I noticed that the church was very full. Doctor Canfield's church was not the only one in Cambridge, but as a rule to it came not only all the Episcopalians, but most of the Scottish Presbyterians, who had not, at that time, a church of their own in the town. They had been, mainly, silent people, who had lived quietly, without doing or saying anything that betrayed sympathy with either side. Were these friends of the King? Did the circulating of the papers calling for a declaration of sympathy explain their presence in such large numbers this morning at Doctor Canfield's church? My mother had told me previously that many of them had been attending our church for some weeks. Had the great sifting and selecting process begun? Had persecution here, as in the country, been making friends for the King? At any rate, as I looked about, I was led to hope that religious differences were likely to be obliterated, or sunk, in loyal zeal for the King's cause. I was interrupted at this point in my thinking by Doctor Canfield announcing his text. It was, 'Love the brotherhood; fear God; honour the king.' He repeated the words twice with much deliberation. A great, strained silence fell upon the vast congregation. I was startled; for a time my breath came short and uncertainly. Had the reserved, hitherto-silent man, made up his mind to declare himself? One great question--the question raised and forced home to each of his hearers by the papers such as my mother had received--filled every mind. But great and pressing as this question was, could it be discussed? I felt sure I knew what Doctor Canfield would say; he was an honest man, and would honestly speak his mind. But was he sure of the temper and sympathies of his hearers that day? Had he counted the cost? I glanced at my mother, and saw that she was plainly agitated. Even Elizabeth, my sister of but twelve, seemed to realise that a crisis was at hand. Caroline's face was serenely calm. On every countenance that I could see there sat an expression of profound, even painful interest. The silence deepened, and the interest grew, as the minister proceeded. He first briefly discussed the part of his text bearing on love of the brotherhood; then touched briefly, but with earnestness, on the necessity for fearing God, and passed to the third and last part of his subject. As he approached this, I noticed that a note of emotion had crept into his voice, and some of the colour had slipped down from his face; but he was still very calm, and spoke unbrokenly as he finished his second heading, and then twice repeated the words, 'Honour the King!' At this point he suddenly stopped. The silence that fell was painfully intense. People leaned forward; here and there heads went down on the pews in front. I felt my heart beat quick and unevenly. But the apparent calmness of Doctor Canfield reassured me.