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"Je—ru—sa—lem . . . Je—ru—sa—lem." They passed Salem Chapel, and Bethel and Zion. The names of strange sects stared out at her from walls—"Friend's Meeting House"—"Disciples of Henry Coke"—"North Chapel Saints"—for thither the tribes go up even, the tribes of the Lord, to give thanks unto the Lord, unto the God of Jacob. "Je—ru—sa—lem . . . Je—ru—sa—lem," Oh, pray for the peace of Jerusalem; they shall prosper that love thee. Peace be within thy walls and plenteousness within thy palaces. The street was full of palaces—the palaces of Quakers, Cokelers, Ebenezers, Adventists. Where should she find the palace of the Colgates? Ah, here it was at the meeting of two streets, a palace indeed with its brick walls and tiled roof and high arched windows—"fine as the Church of England," which blessed them all from behind and above the Causeway trees, sending music down among them like a flock of birds—"Je—ru—sa—lem . . . Je—ru—sa—lem."

The little company halted opposite the chapel of the Colgate Brethren. It was market-day, and the streets were full of people, many of whom stared curiously at the group of dirty children with their poverty-stricken cart. Susan was wondering what she should do. She had decided that the first duty of the Brethren was to supply her and her brothers and sisters with food, and to receive kindly and honourably these who had come as Israel out of Egypt, who had been so singularly blessed with divine favours and wondrously led.