1775.] THE OLD MEETING-HOUSE. 211 the old meeting-house. This building was commenced in 1769, and was completed in the year following. The superintendence of the work was given to a man named Brown, who dwelt at Westmoreland, New Hampshire, and who fulfilled his contract to the satisfaction of his employers. The church was formerly placed, as was the custom of the times, in the middle of the high road, but it was afterwards removed, and now stands on the line of the street. For many years the people of the village, united in faith and doctrine, were accustomed to assemble within its walls, for the purpose of worshipping in conformity with the usages of the New England Congregationalists, *but when, in the lapse of time, some of the people had embraced an oppugnant belief, inte vexatious disputes arose as to be which of the two denominations should have possession o of the building. In the end, a new edifice was erected by the Congregationalists, and their opponents, after retaining possession of the original structure for a few years, left it tenantless. Thus it remained for years undisturbed, except on town-meeting and election-days, and by the occasional visits of the peering antiquarian, the summer loiterer, or the leisurely-going traveller. * The first minister settled in Westminster, is said to have been a man by the name of Goodell, and the year 1766 or 1767 is generally regarded as the time of his coming. Tradition affirms, that his wife was the daughter of a man distinguished in the annals of New Hampshire. In the year 1769 his faithlessness to her became known, and this discovery was soon after followed by his secret departure from the town. Mrs. Goodell's brothers, on being informed of these circumstances, took her and her two children to their home in New Hampshire, and made provision for their future support. It is not known who first occupied the pulpit of the "old meeting-house." Mice-those lovers and digesters of literature of every kind, sacred and profane-have destroyed the early records of the church, and the memory of the oldest inhabitant is at fault to supply the blank thus occasioned. The division in the church at Westminster is, with a few modifications, the history of almost all the religious societies in New England The causes which led to the formation of Christian unions were identical, with a few exceptions, in all, and the same is also true of the causes which in the end created dissensions and division, Although lately used for educational purposes, it still stands a model of its kind, a monument of former days. Its architecture is simple, and the soundness of its timbers bears witness to the excellence of the materials which were used in its construction. Within, all is strange to the eye of a modern. The minister's desk, placed directly in front of the huge bowwindow, is overshadowed by the umbrella-like sounding-board, from which, in former days, words of wisdom and truth were often reverberated. Our ancestors were a frugal people. They regarded the air, not as an element in which to waste words, but as a medium by which ideas were to be conveyed; and in order that nothing, especially of a sacred character, should be lost, they fell upon this contrivance, designed to give to the hearer the full benefit of all that the preacher might choose to utter. As one stands beneath this impending projection, a stifling sensation will steal over the senses, and a ludicrous dread lest its massiveness may descend and crush him as he gazes, is not entirely absent from the mind. One might also feel like comparing it in situation, with the sword of Damocles. But otherwise, the comparison fails, for the hair which holds it is a bar of iron, and the structure itself bears a striking resemblance to a stemless toadstool. Modern theologians might find in it a personification of the cloud which in ancient times overhung the mercy-seat, and this, perhaps, is the most orthodox view in which it can be regarded. Underneath the pulpit is a small apartment, in which the powder and lead belonging to the village were usually stored. Who can describe the feelings which now and then must have shot across the mind of the preacher, or imagine the nature of his secret thoughts, as Sunday after Sunday he warned his hearers of the dangers of this world and besought them to seek for safety in the next, while latent death lay barrelled beneath his feet? Immediately in front of and below the desk, are arranged the benches where once sat the deacons. Beside them, stood long whips, with which they were wont to drive from the temple the farmers' dogs which would sometimes intrude during the protracted service. Terrible instruments were these long whips to the little boys, and the least wriggle of their utmost tip, although caused by the breathing of some kind-natured zephyr, was more potent to them than the most pointed denunciations winged with fire and sulphur, and impelled by the breath of "brazen lungs." Above the deacons' 1775.] THE CHOIR. 213 seats, on a couple of nails, rested a pole, at the end of which was attached a silken pouch. This was the collection-box, which, like the spear of Ithuriel, brought forth from those whom it touched, solid, though, not always willing confessions, to the cause of truth. If there were any exercises of the sanctuary, which more than others received attention, it was those which were under the care of the village choir. There sat the young men clad in homespun and the young women gay in ribbons, occupying the whole front of the long gallery, and at the announcement of the hymn, the confusion into which they would be thrown, might have appeared to a stranger to be almost inextricable. The loud voice of the choragus proclaiming the page on which the tune was to be found in the selection "adapted to Congregational Worship by Andrew Law, A.B.," the preparatory scraping of the fiddle with a "heavenly squeak," or the premonitory key-note of the flute as it went always afforded infinite amusement to the young children, and were regarded by the old men as necessary evils, to be endured patiently and without complaint. Then would succeed a moment of silence, to be broken by the discordant harmony of ear-piercing falsettos, belching bassos, and airs, by no means as gentle as those which float from Araby the blest." But the music was inspiriting, if not to the listeners, yet to the performers; and when the excited fiddler, who was also the leader, became wholly penetrated with the melodies which his vocal followers were exhaling, regardless of the injunction of the minister to "omit the last stanza in singing," he would, with an extra shake of his bow and a resonant, Young America "put her through," conclude the hymn as the poet intended it should end, winding up with a grand flourish, the intensity of which was sure to excite, even in the breasts of the "oldest fogies," the most ecstatic fervor. For years, every old lady used regularly to bring her footstove to meeting, and the warmth of her feet was of great service, no doubt, in increasing the warmth of her heart. But when a new-fashioned, square-box, iron stove was introduced within those sacred precincts, with a labyrinth of pipe, bending and crooking in every direction, the effect was fearful. Two or three fainted from the heat it occasioned, and shutters sufficient would not have been found to convey the expectant swooners to more airy places, had not an old deacon gravely informed the congregation, that the stove was destitute of both fire and fuel. Just beyond the meeting-house lies the old burying-ground, crowded with the silent dwellers of the last hundred years. These tenants pay no rent for their lodgings, and shall never know any reckoning day but the last. The paradises of the dead which are found to-day in the suburbs of almost every American city, speak well for the taste and refinement of the age; but beautiful as they may be, there is a coldness around them of which the marble piles that adoin them are fitly emblematic. More acceptable to a chastened taste, is the village graveyard with its truthfulness and simplicity. The humble stone, with its simple story simply told, conveys to the contemplative mind a pleasanter impression than the monument with its weary length of undeserved panegyric. There is a quaintness, too, in the old inscriptions, which is more heart-touching than the formality and stiffness of the epitaphs of a modern diction. Sometimes, too, there is noticed an original or phonetic way of spelling; and again, when poetry is attempted, the noble disdain of metre which is often seen, is sure evidence that Pegasus was either lame or was driven without bit or bridle. Enter now this old burial-place. At the right of the path, but a short distance from the gate, stands an unpretending stone, not half as attractive by its appearance as many of its fellows. Some there are, who, like Old Mortality, take a certain innocent pleasure in endeavoring to preserve these milestones to eternity from the decay of which they are commemorative. Such may be the inclina tion of the reader. Stop then for a moment in this consecrated spot. Brush off the moss which has covered the letters of this simple Ain slate stone. Put aside the long bugrass which is Dwaving in rank luxuriance at its foot, and now read its pa triotic record: 1775.] CONDITION OF THE COLONIES BEFORE THE REVOLUTION. 66 ❝IN Memory of WILLIAM FRENCH. Son to Mr, Nathaniel French. Who 1775. by the hands of Cruel Ministereal tools. HERE WILLIAM FRENCH his Body lies. For Murder his Blood for Vengance cries. he Loft his Life his Deareft blood." 215 Starting with the indignant language of this epitaph as a text, it will not be amiss to explain its meaning, and collate some of the circumstances connected with the tragedy to which it refers. A correct estimate of the feelings of many of the inhabitants of Cumberland county, may be formed from the conduct of the people of Dummerston in the rescue of Lieut. Spaulding, as related in the preceding chapter. The fuel which success on that occasion added to the flame which before was not dimly burning, did not fail to increase a desire to attempt other and more important deeds. By the old French War, and by the depreciation of bills of credit consequent thereupon, many, in all the colonies, had become reduced in their circumstances. The sufferers were mostly those who had been officers or soldiers in the colonial service, and who now returning from their toils and struggles, found themselves weakened by suffering, their families starving around them, parliamentary acts of unusual severity enforced in the cities, creditors clamoring for their dues, and their own hands filled with paper-money worthless as rags, to pay them with. "In Boston," remarks an historian of those times, "the presence of the royal forces kept the people from acts of violence, but in the country they were under no such restraint. The courts of justice expired one after another, or were unable to proceed on business. The Inhabitants were exasperated against the Soldiers, and they against the Inhabitants; the former looked on the latter as the instruments of tyranny, and the latter on the former as seditious rioters."* In Cumberland * MS. History of the American Revolution, among the papers of Governor William Livingston, of New Jersey, chap. iv. p. 75, in N. Y. Hist. Soc. Lib. 1 |