CHAPTER 11.

“And fools who came to scoff, remained to pray.”—Goldsmith.

Notwithstanding the united labors of Richard and Benjamin, the “long
room” was but an extremely 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 woodwork 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; amid 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 favored 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 the chair that was placed behind another table, in the
capacity of clerk; while Benjamin, after heaping sundry logs on the
fire, posted himself nigh by, in reserve for any movement that might
require co-operation.

It would greatly exceed our limits to attempt a description of the
congregation, for the dresses were as various as the 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 connection
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 dyes 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 favorite 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 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 gartered 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 color, 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 English man.  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 with Mr. Grant.  Timidity, therefore, confined her
observation of the appearances which we have described to stoles
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 pro found 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 on the divine.

At this moment, a heavy stamping of feet was heard in the passage
below, as if a new-corner 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 immovable, 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 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 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 went slowly through this exordium; until, something
unfortunately striking the mind of Richard as incomplete, he left his
place and walked on tiptoe 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 they 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 of 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 natural
timidity, Miss Temple turned her eyes in the direction of the
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 was neat and becoming;
and her countenance, though pale and slightly agitated, excited deep
interest by its sweet and melancholy expression.  A second and third
response was made by this juvenile assistant, when the manly sounds of
a 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 reappeared 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 “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,
sonorously, “Amen.” The eyes of the congregation, very naturally, were
turned to the windows, as Mr. Jones entered with his 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 admirably qualified him to perform
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 of any such temporal
assistance as form into their spiritual worship 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 endeavored 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 fervor
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, Richard found in
the divine, during the evening, a most powerful co-operator in his
religious schemes.  In preaching, Mr. Grant endeavored 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 roles of moral government which would
reduce the Saviour to a level with the teacher of a school of ethics.
Doctrine it was necessary 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 the superficial nature of his creed.  We have already said that,
among the endless variety of 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 the 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 irreconcilable 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 rigor
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 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 thresh old
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 attack 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 arc
most strong; it forcibly points out to us the vainglory 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
humility.  On the heading and essential points of our faith, there is
but little difference among 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 fruit of disputation.  In order to arrest these dangers, and to
insure 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 labors in
clearing what was revealed from the obscurities of language, and the
results of their experience and researches have been em bodied 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,” etc.

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 so perfect demonstration of respect.  This was
by no means an intended slight of that liturgy to which the divine
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 further at that time; and the congregation, after
receiving the blessing of Mr. Grant., dispersed in Silence, and with
great decorum.