upon which to climb upward--like Shakespeare, a new friend.

I may speak here of another matter which belongs to this same period.
A few persons in Allegheny--probably not above a hundred in all--had
formed themselves into a Swedenborgian Society, in which our American
relatives were prominent. My father attended that church after leaving
the Presbyterian, and, of course, I was taken there. My mother,
however, took no interest in Swedenborg. Although always inculcating
respect for all forms of religion, and discouraging theological
disputes, she maintained for herself a marked reserve. Her position
might best be defined by the celebrated maxim of Confucius: "To
perform the duties of this life well, troubling not about another, is
the prime wisdom."

She encouraged her boys to attend church and Sunday school; but there
was no difficulty in seeing that the writings of Swedenborg, and much
of the Old and New Testaments had been discredited by her as unworthy
of divine authorship or of acceptance as authoritative guides for the
conduct of life. I became deeply interested in the mysterious
doctrines of Swedenborg, and received the congratulations of my devout
Aunt Aitken upon my ability to expound "spiritual sense." That dear
old woman fondly looked forward to a time when I should become a
shining light in the New Jerusalem, and I know it was sometimes not
beyond the bounds of her imagination that I might blossom into what
she called a "preacher of the Word."

As I more and more wandered from man-made theology these fond hopes
weakened, but my aunt's interest in and affection for her first
nephew, whom she had dandled on her knee in Scotland, never waned. My
cousin, Leander Morris, whom she had some hopes of saving through the