CHAPTER 10.

“And calling sinful man to pray,
Loud, long, and deep the bell had tolled.”—Scotts Burgher

While Richard and Monsieur Le Quoi, attended by Benjamin, proceeded to
the academy by a foot-path through the snow, the judge, his daughter,
the divine, and the Major took a more circuitous route to the same
place by the streets of the village.

The moon had risen, and its orb was shedding a flood of light over the
dark outline of pines which crowned the eastern mountain.  In many
climates the sky would have been thought clear and lucid for a
noontide.  The stars twinkled in the heavens, like the last
glimmerings of distant fire, so much were they obscured by the
overwhelming radiance of the atmosphere; the rays from the moon
striking upon the smooth, white surfaces of the lake and fields,
reflecting upward a light that was brightened by the spotless color of
the immense bodies of snow which covered the earth.

Elizabeth employed herself with reading the signs, one of which
appeared over almost every door; while the sleigh moved steadily, and
at an easy gait, along the principal street.  Not only new
occupations, but names that were strangers to her ears, met her gaze
at every step they proceeded.  The very houses seemed changed.  This
had been altered by an addition; that had been painted; another had
been erected on the site of an old acquaintance, which had been
banished from the earth almost as soon as it made its appearance on
it.  All were, however, pouring forth their inmates, who uniformly
held their way toward the point where the expected exhibition of the
conjoint taste of Richard and Benjamin was to be made.

After viewing the buildings, which really appeared to some advantage
under the bright but mellow light of the moon, our heroine turned her
eyes to a scrutiny of the different figures they passed, in search of
any form that she knew.  But all seemed alike, as muffled in cloaks,
hoods, coats, or tippets, they glided along the narrow passages in the
snow which led under the houses, half hid by the bank that had been
thrown up in excavating the deep path in which they trod.  Once or
twice she thought there was a stature or a gait that she recollected;
but thc person who owned it instantly disappeared behind one of those
enormous piles of wood that lay before most of the doors, It was only
as they turned from the main street into another that intersected it
at right angles, and which led directly to the place of meeting, that
she recognized a face and building that she knew.

The house stood at one of the principal corners in the village; and by
its well-trodden doorway, as well as the sign that was swinging with a
kind of doleful sound in the blasts that occasionally swept down the
lake, was clearly one of the most frequented inns in the place.  The
building was only of one story; but the dormer-windows in the roof,
the paint, the window-shutters, and the cheerful fire that shone
through the open door, gave it an air of comfort that was not
possessed by many of its neighbors.  The sign was suspended from a
common ale-house post, and represented the figure of a horseman, armed
with sabre and pistols, and surmounted by a bear-skin cap, with a
fiery animal that he bestrode “rampant.” All these particulars were
easily to be seen by the aid of the moon, together with a row of
somewhat illegible writing in black paint, but in which Elizabeth, to
whom the whole was familiar, read with facility, “The Bold Dragoon.”

A man and a woman were issuing from the door of this habitation as the
sleigh was passing, The former moved with a stiff, military step, that
was a good deal heightened by a limp in one leg; but the woman
advanced with a measure and an air that seemed not particularly
regardful of what she might encounter.  The light of the moon fell
directly upon her full, broad, and red visage, exhibiting her
masculine countenance, under the mockery of a ruffled cap that was
intended to soften the lineamints of features that were by no means
squeamish.  A small bonnet of black silk, and of a slightly formal
cut, was placed on the back of her head, but so as not to shade her
visage in the least.  The face, as it encountered the rays of the moon
from the east, seemed not unlike sun rising in the west.  She advanced
with masculine strides to intercept the sleigh; and the Judge,
directing the namesake of the Grecian king, who held the lines, to
check his horse, the par ties were soon near to each other.

“Good luck to ye, and a welcome home, Jooge,” cried the female, with a
strong Irish accent; “and I’m sure it’s to me that ye’re always
welcome.  Sure! and there’s Miss Lizzy, and a fine young woman she is
grown.  What a heart-ache would she be giving the young men now, if
there was sich a thing as a rigiment in the town! Och! but it’s idle
to talk of sich vanities, while the bell is calling us to mateing jist
as we shall he called away unexpictedly some day, when we are the
laist calkilating.  Good-even, Major; will I make the bowl of gin
toddy the night, or it’s likely ye’ll stay at the big house the
Christmas eve, and the very night of yer getting there?”

“I am glad to see you, Mrs. Hollister,” returned Elizabeth.  “I have
been trying to find a face that I knew since we left the door of the
mansion-house; but none have I seen except your own.  Your house, too,
is unaltered, while all the others are so changed that, but for the
places where they stand, they would be utter strangers.  I observe you
also keep the dear sign that I saw Cousin Richard paint; and even the
name at the bottom, about which, you may remember, you had the
disagreement.”

“It is the bould dragoon, ye mane? And what name would he have, who
niver was known by any other, as my husband here, the captain, can
testify? He was a pleasure to wait upon, and was ever the foremost in
need.  Och! but he had a sudden end! but it’s to be hoped that he was
justified by the cause, And it’s not Parson Grant there who’ll gainsay
that same.  Yes, yes; the squire would paint, and so I thought that we
might have his face up there, who had so often shared good and evil
wid us.  The eyes is no so large nor so fiery as the captain’s Own;
but the whiskers and the cap is as two paes.  Well, well, I'll not
keep ye in the cowld, talking, but will drop in the morrow after
sarvice, and ask ye how ye do.  It’s our bounden duty to make the most
of this present, and to go to the house which is open to all; so God
bless ye, and keep ye from evil! Will I make the gin-twist the night,
or no, Major?”

To this question the German replied, very sententiously, in the
affirmative; and, after a few words had passed between the husband of
the fiery-faced hostess and the Judge, the sleigh moved on.  It soon
reached the door of the academy, where the party alighted and entered
the building.

In the mean time, Mr. Jones and his two companions, having a much
shorter distance to journey, had arrived before the appointed place
some minutes sooner than the party in the sleigh.  Instead of
hastening into the room in order to enjoy the astonishment of the
settlers, Richard placed a hand in either pocket of his surcoat, and
affected to walk about, in front of the academy, like one to whom the
ceremonies were familiar.

The villagers proceeded uniformly into the building, with a decorum
and gravity that nothing could move, on such occasions; but with a
haste that was probably a little heightened by curiosity.  Those who
came in from the adjacent country spent some little time in placing
certain blue and white blankets over their horses before they
proceeded to indulge their desire to view the interior of the house.
Most of these men Richard approached, and inquired after the health
and condition of their families.  The readiness with which he
mentioned the names of even the children, showed how very familiarly
acquainted he was with their circumstances; and the nature of the
answers he received proved that he was a general favorite.

At length one of the pedestrians from the village stopped also, and
fixed an earnest gaze at a new brick edifice that was throwing a long
shadow across the fields of snow, as it rose, with a beautiful
gradation of light and shade, under the rays of a full moon.  In front
of the academy was a vacant piece of ground, that was intended for a
public square.  On the side opposite to Mr. Jones, the new and as yet
unfinished church of St. Paul’s was erected, This edifice had been
reared during the preceding summer, by the aid of what was called a
subscription; though all, or nearly all, of the money came from the
pockets of the landlord.  It had been built under a strong conviction
of the necessity of a more seemly place of worship than “the long room
of the academy,” and under an implied agreement that, after its
completion, the question should be fairly put to the people, that they
might decide to what denomination it should belong.  Of course, this
expectation kept alive a strong excitement in some few of the
sectaries who were interested in its decision; though but little was
said openly on the subject.  Had Judge Temple espoused the cause of
any particular sect, the question would have been immediately put at
rest, for his influence was too powerful to be opposed; but he
declined interference in the matter, positively refusing to lend even
the weight of his name on the side of Richard, who had secretly given
an assurance to his diocesan that both the building and the
congregation would cheerfully come within the pale of the Protestant
Episcopal Church.  But, when the neutrality of the Judge was clearly
ascertained, Mr. Jones discovered that he had to contend with a stiff
necked people.  His first measure was to go among them and commence a
course of reasoning, in order to bring them round to his own way of
thinking.  They all heard him patiently, and not a man uttered a word
in reply in the way of argument, and Richard thought, by the time that
he had gone through the settlement, the point was conclusively decided
in his favor.  Willing to strike while the iron was hot, he called a
meeting, through the news paper, with a view to decide the question by
a vote at once.  Not a soul attended; and one of the most anxious
afternoons that he had ever known was spent by Richard in a vain
discussion with Mrs. Hollister, who strongly contended that the
Methodist (her own) church was the best entitled to and most deserving
of, the possession of the new tabernacle.  Richard now perceived that
he had been too sanguine, and had fallen into the error of all those
who ignorantly deal with that wary and sagacious people.  He assumed a
disguise himself—that is, as well as he knew how, and proceeded step
by step to advance his purpose.

The task of erecting the building had been unanimously transferred to
Mr. Jones and Hiram Doolittle.  Together they had built the mansion-
house, the academy, and the jail, and they alone knew how to plan and
rear such a structure as was now required.  Early in the day, these
architects had made an equitable division of their duties.  To the
former was assigned the duty of making all the plans, and to the
latter the labor of superintending the execution.

Availing himself of this advantage, Richard silently determined that
the windows should have the Roman arch; the first positive step in
effecting his wishes.  As the building was made of bricks, he was
enabled to conceal his design until the moment arrived for placing the
frames; then, indeed, it became necessary to act.  He communicated his
wishes to Hiram with great caution; and, without in the least
adverting to the spiritual part of his project, he pressed the point a
little warmly on the score of architectural beauty.  Hiram heard him
patiently, and without contradiction, but still Richard was unable to
discover the views of his coadjutor on this interesting subject.  As
the right to plan was duly delegated to Mr. Jones, no direct objection
was made in words.  but numberless unexpected difficulties arose in
the execution.  At first there was a scarcity in the right kind of
material necessary to form the frames; but this objection was
instantly silenced by Richard running his pencil through two feet of
their length at one stroke.  Then the expense was mentioned; but
Richard reminded Hiram that his cousin paid, and that he was
treasurer.  This last intimation had great weight, and after a silent
and protracted, but fruitless opposition, the work was suffered to
proceed on the original plan.

The next difficulty occurred in the steeple, which Richard had
modelled after one of the smaller of those spires that adorn the great
London cathedral.  The imitation was somewhat lame, it was true, the
proportions being but in differently observed; but, after much
difficulty, Mr. Jones had the satisfaction of seeing an object reared
that bore in its outlines, a striking resemblance to a vinegar-cruet.
There was less opposition to this model than to the windows; for the
settlers were fond of novelty, and their steeple was without a
precedent.

Here the labor ceased for the season, and the difficult question of
the interior remained for further deliberation.  Richard well knew
that, when he came to propose a reading-desk and a chancel, he must
unmask; for these were arrangements known to no church in the country
but his own.  Presuming, however, on the advantages he had already
obtained, he boldly styled the building St. Paul’s, and Hiram
prudently acquiesced in this appellation, making, however, the slight
addition of calling it “New St. Paul’s,” feeling less aversion to a
name taken from the English cathedral than from the saint.

The pedestrian whom we have already mentioned, as pausing to
contemplate this edifice, was no other than the gentleman so
frequently named as Mr. or Squire Doolittle.  He was of a tall, gaunt
formation, with rather sharp features, and a face that expressed
formal propriety mingled with low cunning.  Richard approached him,
followed by Monsieur Le Quoi and the major-domo.

“Good-evening, squire,” said Richard, bobbing his head, but without
moving his hands from his pockets.

“Good-evening, squire,” echoed Hiram, turning his body in order to
turn his head also.

“A cold night, Mr. Doolittle, a cold night, sir.”

“Coolish; a tedious spell on’t.”

“What, looking at our church, ha! It looks well, by moonlight; how the
tin of the cupola glistens! I warrant you the dome of the other St.
Paul’s never shines so in the smoke of London.”

“It is a pretty meeting -house to look on,” returned Hiram, “and I
believe that Monshure Ler Quow and Mr. Penguilliam will allow it.”

“Sairtainlee!” exclaimed the complaisant Frenchman, “it ees ver fine,”

“I thought the monshure would say so.  The last molasses that we had
was excellent good.  It isn’t likely that you have any more of it on
hand?”

“Ah! oui; ees, sair,” returned Monsieur Le Quoi, with a slight shrug
of his shoulder, and a trifling grimace, “dere is more.  I feel ver
happi dat you love eet.  I hope dat Madame Doleet’ is in good ‘ealth.”

“Why, so as to be stirring,” said Hiram.  “The squire hasn’t finished
the plans for the inside of the meeting house yet?”

“No—no—no,” returned Richard, speaking quickly, but making a
significant pause between each negative—..  “it requires reflection.
There is a great deal of room to fill up, and I am afraid we shall not
know how to dispose of it to advantage.  There will be a large vacant
spot around the pulpit, which I do not mean to place against the wall,
like a sentry-box stuck up on the side of a fort.”

“It is rulable to put the deacons’ box under the pulpit,” said Hiram;
and then, as if he had ventured too much, he added, “but there’s
different fashions in different Countries.”

“That there is,” cried Benjamin; “now, in running down the coast of
Spain and Portingall, you may see a nunnery stuck out on every
headland, with more steeples and outriggers.  such as dog-vanes and
weathercocks, than you’ll find aboard of a three-masted schooner.  If
so be that a well-built church is wanting, old England, after all, is
the country to go to after your models and fashion pieces.  As to
Paul’s, thof I’ve never seen it, being that it’s a long way up town
from Radcliffe Highway and the docks, yet everybody knows that it’s
the grandest place in the world Now, I’ve no opinion but this here
church over there is as like one end of it as a grampus is to a whale;
and that’s only a small difference in bulk.  Mounsheer Ler Quaw, here,
has been in foreign parts; and thof that is not the same as having
been at home, yet he must have seen churches in France too, and can
form a small idee of what a church should be; now I ask the mounsheer
to his face if it is not a clever little thing, taking it by and
large.”

“It ees ver apropos of saircumstance,” said the French-.  man—” ver
judgment—but it is in the catholique country dat dey build dc—vat you
call—ah a ah-ha—la grande cathédrale—de big church.  St. Paul, Londre,
is ver fine; ver belle; ver grand—vat you call beeg; but, Monsieur
Ben, pardonnez-moi, it is no vort so much as Notre Dame.”

“Ha! mounsheer, what is that you say?” cried Benjamin; “St. Paul’s
church is not worth so much as a damn! Mayhap you may be thinking too
that the Royal Billy isn’t so good a ship as the Billy de Paris; but
she would have licked two of her any day, and in all weathers.”

As Benjamin had assumed a very threatening kind of attitude,
flourishing an arm with a bunch at the end of it that was half as big
as Monsieur Le Quoi’s head, Richard thought it time to interpose his
authority.

“Hush, Benjamin, hush,” he said; “you both misunderstand Monsieur Le
Quoi and forget yourself.  But here comes Mr. Grant, and the service
will commence.  Let us go in.”

The Frenchman, who received Benjamin’s reply with a well-bred good-
humor that would not admit of any feeling but pity for the other’s
ignorance, bowed in acquiescence and followed his companion.

Hiram and the major -domo brought up the rear, the latter grumbling as
he entered the building:

“If so be that the king of France had so much as a house to live in
that would lay alongside of Paul’s, one might put up with their jaw.
It’s more than flesh and blood can bear to hear a Frenchman run down
an English church in this manner.  Why, Squire Doolittle, I’ve been at
the whipping of two of them in one day—clean built, snug frigates with
standing royals and them new-fashioned cannonades on their quarters—
such as, if they had only Englishmen aboard of them, would have fout
the devil.”

With this ominous word in his mouth Benjamin entered the church.