the treasures in this cave of Aladdin, I thought to make a first of
my visits by going in and buying something. But I hesitated, because
I could not think of anything I was in want of--at least that the
old woman was likely to have. To be sure I wanted a copy of Bengel's
"Gnomon;" but she was not likely to have that. I wanted the fourth
plate in the third volume of Law's "Behmen;" she was not likely to
have that either. I did not care for gingerbread; and I had no
little girl to take home beads to.

But why should I not go in without an ostensible errand? For this
reason: there are dissenters everywhere, and I could not tell but I
might be going into the shop of a dissenter. Now, though, I confess,
nothing would have pleased me better than that all the dissenters
should return to their old home in the Church, I could not endure
the suspicion of laying myself out to entice them back by canvassing
or using any personal influence. Whether they returned or not,
however, (and I did not expect many would,) I hoped still, some day,
to stand towards every one of them in the relation of the parson of
the parish, that is, one of whom each might feel certain that he was
ready to serve him or her at any hour when he might be wanted to
render a service. In the meantime, I could not help hesitating.

I had almost made up my mind to ask if she had a small pocket
compass, for I had seen such things in little country shops--I am
afraid only in France, though--when the door opened, and out came
the little boy whom I had already seen twice, and who was therefore
one of my oldest friends in the place. He came across the road to
me, took me by the hand, and said--

"Come and see mother."