"I have a word to say of our dear good friend, Mrs. Patten. About four weeks before she left us, I had a long talk with her. She told me of her pleasant anticipations and also that she expected to see me there ere long. Her last words on that memorable occasion were, as nearly as I can remember, these: 'I go from death to life, from bondage to freedom. All I have of earth I want to leave where it shall point toward heaven, or a higher condition of things. If you were to stay, Brother Davis, you should do some of this work, but you must get yourself ready, and you need no more to dispose of.' I feel that this is true, and I ask you, children, to feel that I shall hope to be remembered by you through time. The lesson of harmonious action has been taught upon these hills, and when the years to come shall brighten our pathway, tired hearts will still be waiting. The angel of deliverance will be present then, as now, and the munificence of those who have gone from us, as well as of those who are yet in the body, has made the strong foundation on which to stand; and in the blest future your hands will be helpful, while your hearts shall sing of those whose hearts and hands did great service for the advancement of love and truth. My heart is glad; I have learned much; I know that our Father holds so closely his beloved, that no one of his children shall call to him unheard." We had a real meeting, as Jane expressed it, and I said to Louis: "What a great fire a small matter kindleth!" He replied: "We have claimed the promise and brought to our hearts the strength we need 'where two or three are gathered together.' You know I often think of this, and also of the incomparable comfort the entire world would have if the eyes that are blinded could see; if the hearts that beat slow and in fear were quickened into life. Ah! Emily, the years to come hold wondrous changes. The cruel hand of war would never have touched us had the first lesson in life's book been well read and understood." "That is true," said my father, as we entered the gate at home, and looking up I saw two stars, and said: "Clara and Aunt Hildy both say 'Amen!'" CHAPTER XXIII. AUNT HILDY'S LEGACY. It was the spring of 1862, when "Aunt Hildy's Plot" was the scene of happy labor. Uncle Dayton made the survey of the land and a map of it. All the children knew the boundaries of their individual territories; and the youngest among them, five-year-old Sammy, strutted about with his hands in his pockets, whistling and thinking, now and then giving vent to his joy. When he saw Louis and me coming, for we all went over to see the ground broken for the schoolhouse, he came toward us hurriedly, saying with great earnestness: "I shall raise much as three dollars' worth of onions on my land. Do you s'pose I can sell em, Mr. Desmonde? I want to sell 'em and put the money in the bank, for when I get money enough I'm going to build a house, and get married, too, I guess."