University of Virginia Library

11. CHAPTER XI.

Notwithstanding the united labours of Richard
and Benjamin, the “long-room” was but an
extremely plain and inartificial temple. Benches,
made in the coarsest manner, and entirely with a
view to usefulness, were arranged in rows, for the
reception of the congregation; while a rough, unpainted
box, was placed against the wall, in the
centre of the length of the apartment, as an apology
for a pulpit. Something like a reading desk
was in front of this rostrum, and a small mahogany
table, from the mansion-house, covered with a
spotless damask cloth, stood a little on one side, by
the way of an altar. Branches of pines and hemlocks
were stuck in each of the fissures that offered,
in the unseasoned, and hastily completed
wood-work, of both the building and its furniture;
while festoons and hieroglyphics met the
eye, in vast profusion, along the brown sides of
the scratch-coated walls. As the room was only
lighted by some ten or fifteen miserable candles,
and the windows were without shutters, it would
have been but a dreary, cheerless place for the solemnities

of a Christmas-eve, had not the large
fire, that was crackling at each end of the apartment,
given an air of cheerfulness to the scene, by
throwing an occasional glare of light through the
vistas of bushes and faces.

The two sexes were separated by an area in the
centre of the room, immediately before the pulpit,
and a few benches lined this space, that were occupied
by the principal personages of the village and
its vicinity. This distinction was rather a gratuitous
concession, made by the poorer and less polished
part of the population, than a right claimed
by the favoured few. One bench was occupied by
the party of Judge Temple, including his daughter;
and, with the exception of Dr. Todd, no one else
appeared willing to incur the imputation of pride,
by taking a seat in what was, literally, the high
place of the tabernacle.

Richard filled a chair, that was placed behind
another table, in the capacity of clerk; while Benjamin,
after heaping sundry logs on the fires. posted
himself nigh by. in reserve for any movement
that might require his co operation.

It would be greatly exceeding our limits, to attempt
a description of the congregation, for their
dresses were as various as there were individuals.
Some one article, of more than usual finery, and
perhaps the relic of other days, was to be seen
about most of the females, in connexion with the
coarse attire of the woods. This, wore a faded
silk, that had gone through at least three generations,
over coarse, woollen, black stockings; that, a
shawl, whose dies were as numerous as those of
the rainbow, over an awkwardly fitting gown,
of rough, brown “woman's-wear.” In short,
each one exhibited some favourite article, and all
appeared in their best, both men and women;
while the ground-works in dress, in either sex,

were the coarse fabrics manufactured within their
own dwellings. One man appeared in the dress
of a volunteer company of artillery, of which he
had been a member, in the “down-countries,” precisely
for no other reason, than because it was the
best suit he had. Several, particularly of the
younger men, displayed pantaloons of blue, edged
with red cloth down the seams, part of the equipments
of the “Templeton Light Infantry,” from a
little vanity to be seen in “boughten clothes.”
There was also one man in a “rifle frock,” with
its fringes and folds of spotless white, striking a
chill to the heart with the idea of its coolness; although
the thick coat of brown “home-made,”
that was concealed beneath, preserved to the wearer
a proper degree of warmth.

There was a marked uniformity of expression in
countenance, especially in that half of the congregation,
who did not enjoy the advantages of the
polish of the village. A sallow skin, that indicated
nothing but exposure, was common to all, as
was an air of great decency and attention, mingled,
generally, with an expression of shrewdness,
and in the present instance, of active curiosity.
Now and then a face and dress were to be seen,
among the congregation, that differed entirely
from this description. If pock-marked, and florid,
with gaitered legs, and a coat that snugly fitted
the person of the wearer, it was surely an
English emigrant, who had bent his steps to this
retired quarter of the globe. If hard-featured,
and without colour, with high cheek-bones, it was
a native of Scotland, in similar circumstances.
The short, black-eyed man, with a cast of the
swarthy Spaniard in his face, who rose repeatedly,
to make room for the belles of the village, as
they entered, was a son of Erin, who had lately
left off his pack, and become a stationary trader

in Templeton. In short, half the nations in the
north of Europe had their representatives in this
assembly, though all had closely assimilated themselves
to the Americans, in dress and appearance,
except the Englishman. He, indeed, not only adhered
to his native customs, in attire and living,
but usually drove his plough, among the stumps, in
the same manner as he had before done, on the
plains of Norfolk, until dear-bought experience
taught him the useful lesson, that a sagacious people
knew what was suited to their circumstances,
better than a casual observer; or a sojourner, who
was, perhaps, too much prejudiced to compare,
and, peradventure, too conceited to learn.

Elizabeth soon discovered that she divided the
attention of the congregation, equally with Mr.
Grant. Timidity, therefore, confined her observation
of the appearances which we have described,
to stolen glances; but, as the stamping of feet
was now becoming less frequent, and even the
coughing, and other little preliminaries of a congregation
settling themselves down into reverential
attention, were ceasing, she felt emboldened to
look around her. Gradually all noises diminished,
until the suppressed cough denoted, that it was
necessary to avoid singularity, and the most profound
stillness pervaded the apartment. The
snapping of the fires, as they threw a powerful
heat into the room, was alone heard, and each
face, and every eye, were turned in expectation on
the divine.

At this moment, a heavy stamping of feet was
heard in the passage below, as if a new comer was
releasing his limbs from the snow, that was necessarily
clinging to the legs of a pedestrian. It was
succeeded by no audible tread; but directly Mohegan,
followed by the Leather-stocking and the
young hunter, made his appearance. Their footsteps

would not have been heard, as they trod the
apartment in their moccasins, but for the silence
which prevailed.

The Indian moved with great gravity across
the floor, and, observing a vacant seat next to the
Judge, he took it, in a manner that manifested his
sense of his own dignity. Here, drawing his blanket
closely around him, so as partly to conceal his
countenance, he remained during the service immoveable,
but deeply attentive. Natty passed the
place, that was so freely taken by his red companion,
and seated himself on one end of a log, that
was lying near the fire, where he continued, with
his rifle standing between his legs, absorbed in reflections,
seemingly, of no very pleasing nature.
The youth found a seat, among the congregation,
and another dead silence prevailed.

Mr. Grant now arose, and commenced his service,
with the sublime declaration of the Hebrew
prophet—“The Lord is in his holy temple; let
all the earth keep silence before him.” The example
of Mr. Jones was unnecessary, to teach the
congregation to rise: the solemnity of the manner
of the divine, effected this as by magic. After a
short pause, Mr. Grant proceeded with the solemn
and winning exhortation of his service. Nothing
was heard but the deep, though affectionate, tones
of the reader, as he slowly went through this exordium;
until, something unfortunately striking the
mind of Richard as incomplete, he left his place,
and walked on tip-toe from the room.

When the clergyman bent his knees in prayer
and confession, the congregation so far imitated
his example, as to resume their seats; whence no
succeeding effort of the divine, during the evening,
was able to remove them in a body. Some
rose, at times, but by far the larger part continued
unbending; observant, it is true, but it was the

kind of observation that regarded the ceremony as
a spectacle, rather than a worship in which all were
to participate. Thus deserted by his clerk, Mr.
Grant continued to read; but no response was
audible. The short and solemn pause, that succeeded
each petition, was made; still no voice
repeated the eloquent language of the prayer.

The lips of Elizabeth moved, but they moved
in vain; and, accustomed, as she was, to the service
in the churches of the metropolis, she was beginning
to feel the awkwardness of the circumstance
most painfully, when a soft, low, female
voice repeated after the priest, “We have left undone
those things which we ought to have done.”
Startled, at finding one of her own sex in that
place, who could rise superior to their natural timidity,
Miss Temple turned her eyes in the direction
of the humble penitent. She observed a
young female, on her knees, but a short distance
from her, with her meek face humbly bent over
her book. The appearance of this stranger, for
such she was, entirely, to Elizabeth, was light and
fragile. Her dress, without being either rich or
fashionable, was neat and becoming; and her
countenance, though pale, and slightly agitated,
excited deep interest, by its sweet, and perhaps
melancholy expression. A second and third response
were made by this juvenile assistant, when
the rich, manly sounds of a youthful, male voice,
proceeded from the opposite part of the room.
Miss Temple knew the tones of the young hunter
instantly, and, struggling to overcome her own
diffidence, she added her low voice to the number.

All this time, Benjamin stood thumbing the
leaves of a prayer-book with great industry, but
some unexpected difficulties prevented his finding
the place. Before the divine reached the close of
the confession, however, Richard re-appeared at the

door, and, as he moved lightly across the room he
took up the response, in a voice that betrayed no
other concern than that of not being heard. In his
hand he carried a small open box, with the figures
of “8 by 10” written, in black paint, on one of
its sides; which having placed in the pulpit, apparently
as a footstool for the divine he returned
to his station, in time to say, most sonorously,
“amen.” The eyes of the congregation, very naturally,
were turned to the windows, as Mr. Jones
entered with this singular load, and then, as if accustomed
to his “general agency,” were again
bent on the priest, in close and curious attention.

The long experience of Mr. Grant had admirably
qualified him to perform with success his
present duty. He well understood the character
of his listeners, who were mostly a primitive people
in their habits; and who, being a good deal
addicted to subtleties and nice distinctions in their
religious opinions, viewed the introduction into
their spiritual worship of any such temporal assistance
as form, not only with jealousy, but frequently
with disgust. He had acquired much of his
knowledge, from studying the great book of human
nature, as it lay open in the world; and,
knowing how dangerous it was to contend with
ignorance, uniformly endeavoured to avoid dictating,
where his better reason taught him it was
the most prudent to attempt to lead. His orthodoxy
had no dependence on his cassock; he could
pray, with fervour and with faith, if circumstances
required it, without the assistance of his clerk;
and he had even been known to preach a most
evangelical sermon, in the winning manner of native
eloquence, without the aid of a cambric handkerchief!

In the present instance he yielded, in many places,

to the prejudices of his congregation; and
when he had ended, there was not one of his new
hearers, who did not think the ceremonies less
papal and offensive, and more conformant to his
or her own notions of devout worship, than they
had been led to expect from a service of forms.
Truly, Richard found in the divine, during the
evening, a most powerful co-operator in his religious
schemes. In preaching, Mr. Grant endeavoured
to steer a middle course, between the mystical
doctrines of those sublimated creeds, which daily
involve their professors in the most absurd contradictions,
and those fluent rules for moral government,
which would reduce the Saviour to a level with
the teacher of a school of ethics. Doctrine it was necessary
for him to preach, for nothing less would
have satisfied the disputatious people who were
his listeners, and who would have interpreted silence
on his part, into a tacit acknowledgment of
either the superficial nature of his creed, or his
own inability to defend it. We have already said
that, amongst the endless variety of their religious
instructors, the settlers were accustomed to hear
every denomination urge its own distinctive precepts;
and to have found one indifferent to this
interesting subject, would have been destructive to
his influence. But Mr. Grant so happily blended
the universally received opinions of the Christian
faith, with the dogmas of his own church, that, although
none were entirely exempt from the influence
of his reasons, very few took any alarm at
the innovation.

“When we consider the great diversity of the
human character, influenced as it is by education,
by opportunity, and by the physical and moral
conditions of the creature, my dear hearers,” he
earnestly concluded, “it can excite no surprise,
that creeds, so very different in their tendencies,

should grow out of a religion, revealed, it is true,
but whose revelations are obscured by the lapse
of ages and whose doctrines were, after the fashion
of the countries in which they were first promulgated,
frequently delivered in parables, and in a language
abounding in metaphors, and loaded with
figures. On points where the learned have, in
purity of heart, been compelled to differ, the unlettered
will necessarily be at variance. But,
happily for us, my brethren, the fountain of divine
love flows from a source too pure to admit of
pollution in its course; it extends, to those who
drink of its vivifying waters, the peace of the
righteous and life everlasting; it endures through
all time, and it pervades creation. If there be
mystery in its workings, it is the mystery of a
Divinity. With a clear knowledge of the nature,
the might, and majesty of God, there might be
conviction, but there could be no faith. If we
are required to believe in doctrines, that seem not
in conformity with the deductions of human wisdom,
let us never forget, that such is the mandate
of a wisdom that is infinite. It is sufficient for
us, that enough is developed to point our path
aright, and to direct our wandering steps to that
portal. which shall open on the light of an eternal
day. Then, indeed, it may be humbly hoped,
that the film, which has been spread by the subtleties
of earthly arguments, will be dissipated by
the spiritual light of heaven; and that our hour
of probation, by the aid of divine grace, being
once passed in triumph, will be followed by an
eternity of intelligence, and endless ages of fruition.
All that is now obscure, shall become plain to our
expanded faculties; and what, to our present
senses, may seem irreconcileable to our limited notions
of mercy, of justice, and of love shall stand,
irradiated by the light of truth, confessedly the
suggestions of Omniscience, and the acts of an
All-powerful Benevolence.

“What a lesson of humility, my brethren, might
not each of us obtain, from a review of his infant
hours, and the recollection of his juvenile passions!
How differently do the same acts of parental
rigour appear, in the eyes of the suffering
child, and of the chastened man! When the sophist
would supplant, with the wild theories of his
worldly wisdom, the positive mandates of inspiration,
let him remember the expansion of his own
feeble intellects, and pause—let him feel the wisdom
of God, in what is partially concealed, as
well as in that which is revealed;—in short, let
him substitute humility for pride of reason—let
him have faith, and live!

“The consideration of this subject is full of consolation,
my hearers, and does not fail to bring
with it lessons of humility and of profit, that,
duly improved, would both chasten the heart, and
strengthen the feeble-minded man in his course.
It is a blessed consolation, to be able to lay the
misdoubtings of our arrogant nature at the
threshold of the dwelling place of the Deity, from
whence they shall be swept away, at the great
opening of the portal, like the mists of the morning
before the rising sun. It teaches us a lesson
of humility, by impressing us with the imperfection
of human powers, and by warning us of the
many weak points, where we are open to the attacks
of the great enemy of our race; it proves to
us, that we are in danger of being weak, when
our vanity would fain soothe us into the belief that
we are most strong; it forcibly points out to us
the vain-glory of intellect, and shows us the vast
difference between a saving faith, and the corollaries
of a philosophical theology; and it teaches
us to reduce our self-examination to the test of

good works. By good works, must be understood
the fruits of repentance, the chiefest of which
is charity. Not that charity only, which causes
us to help the needy and comfort the suffering,
but that feeling of universal philanthropy, which,
by teaching us to love, causes us to judge with
lenity, all men; striking at the root of self-righteousness,
and warning us to be sparing of our condemnation
of others, while our own salvation is
not yet secure.

“The lesson of expediency, my brethren, which
I would gather from the consideration of this subject,
is most strongly inculcated by our humility.
On the leading and essential points of our faith,
there is but little difference, amongst those classes
of Christians who acknowledge the attributes of
the Saviour, and depend on his mediation. But
heresies have polluted every church, and schisms
are the fruits of disputation. In order to arrest
these dangers, and to ensure the union of his followers,
it would seem that Christ had established
his visible church, and delegated the ministry.
Wise and holy men, the fathers of our religion,
have expended their labours in clearing what was
revealed from the obscurities of language; and the
results of their experience and researches have
been embodied in the form of evangelical discipline.
That this discipline must be salutary, is
evident from the view of the weakness of human
nature that we have already taken: and that it
may be profitable to us, and all who listen to its
precepts and its liturgy, may God, in his infinite
wisdom, grant.—And now to,” &c.

With this ingenious reference to his own
forms and ministry, Mr. Grant concluded his
discourse. The most profound attention had been
paid to the sermon during the whole of its delivery,
although the prayers had not been received

with such a perfect demonstration of respect.—
This was by no means an intended slight of that
liturgy, to which the divine had alluded, but was
the habit of a people, who owed their very existence,
as a distinct nation, to the doctrinal character
of their ancestors. Sundry looks of private dissatisfaction
were exchanged between Hiram and
one or two of the leading members of the conference,
but the feeling went no farther at that time;
and the congregation, after receiving the blessing
of Mr. Grant, dispersed in silence, and with great
decorum.