remove from his dangerous situation, and earnestly entreated the king to restore him to his former humble position. 6. By this device, Dionysius intimated to Damocles how miserable he himself was in the midst of all his treasures, and in possession of all the honors and enjoyments which royalty could bestow. Cicero. LXXI. THE OLD MEETING-HOUSE. SKETCH FROM THE NOTE-BOOK OF AN OLD GENTLEMAN. NEVER EVER shall I forget the dignity and sense of importance which swelled my mind, when I was first pronounced old enough to go to meeting. On that eventful Sunday, I was up long before day, and even took my Sabbath suit to the window to ascertain by the first light that it actually was there, just as it looked the night before. 2. With what complacency did I view myself, when completely dressed! How did I count over the rows of gilt buttons on my coat! How my good mother, grandmother, and aunts, fussed, and twitched, and pulled, to make everything set up and set down, just in the proper place! How my clean, starched, white collar was turned over, and smoothed again and again, and my golden curls twisted and arranged to make the most of me! and, last of all, how I was cautioned not to be thinking of my clothes! 3. To my childish eye, our old meeting-house was an awe-inspiring thing. Its double rows of windows, of which I knew the number by heart, its doors with great wooden quirls over them, its belfry, projecting out at the east end, its steeple and bell, all inspired as much sense of the sublime in me as Strasbourg Cathedral itself; and the inside was not a whit less imposing. 4. How magnificent seemed the turnip-like canopy that hung over the minister's head, hooked by a long iron rod to the wall above! and how apprehensively did I consider the question, what would become of him if it should fall! How did I wonder at the panels on either side of the pulpit, in each of which was carved and painted a flaming red tulip, bolt upright, with its leaves projecting out at right angles! and then at the grapevine on the front, with its exactly triangular bunches of grapes, alternating at exact intervals with exactly triangular leaves. 5. I remember, still, with what wondering admiration I used to look around on the people that surrounded our pew. On one side there was an old Captain McLean, and Major McDill, a couple whom the mischievous wits of the village designated as Captain McLean and Captain McFat. Captain McLean was a mournful, lengthy, considerate-looking old gentleman, with a long face, digressing into a long, thin, horny nose, which, when he applied his pocket-handkerchief, gave forth a melancholy, minor-keyed sound. Close at his side was the doughty, puffing Captain McDill, whose full-orbed jolly visage was illuminated by a most valiant red nose. 6. Then, there was old Israel Peters, with a wooden leg, which tramped into meeting, with undeviating regularity, ten minutes before meeting time; and there was Jedediah Stebbins, a thin, wistful, moonshiny-looking old gentleman, whose mouth appeared as if it had been gathered up with a needle and thread, and whose eyes seemed as if they had been bound with red tape; and there was old Benaiah Stevens, who used, regularly, to get up and stand, when the minister was about half through his sermon, exhibiting his tall figure, long, single-breasted coat, with buttons nearly as large as a tea-plate, his large, black, horn spectacles, stretched down on the extreme end of a very long nose. There he would stand, vigorously chewing, meanwhile, on the bunch of caraway which he always carried in one hand. 7. Then, there was a whole bevy of little, dried old ladies, with small, straight, black bonnets, tight sleeves to the elbow, long silk gloves, and great fans, big enough for a windmill. On a hot day, it was a great amusement to me to watch the bobbing of the little black bonnets, which showed that sleep had gotten the better of their owners' attention, and the sputter and rustling of the fans, when a more profound nod than common would suddenly waken them, and set them to fanning and listening with redoubled devotion. 8. There was Deacon Dundas, a great wagon-load of an old gentleman, whose ample pockets looked as if they might have held half the congregation, who used to establish himself just on one side of me, and seemed to feel such entire confidence in the soundness and capacity of his pastor that he could sleep, very comfortably, from one end of the sermon to the other. 9. Occasionally, to be sure, one of your officious blue flies would buzz into his mouth, or flirt into his ears a passing admonition as to the impropriety of sleeping in meeting, when the good old gentleman would start, open his eyes very wide, and look about with a resolute air, as much as to say, "I wasn't asleep, I can tell you;" and, then, settling himself in an edifying posture of attention, you might perceive his head gradually settling back, his mouth slowly opening, wider and wider, till the good man would go off again soundly asleep, as if nothing had happened. 10. But the glory of our house was its singers' seat. There the singers sat, in the gallery that lined three sides of the house, treble, counter, tenor, and base, each with its appropriate leaders and supporters; there were generally seated our young people ;- sparkling, modest, and blushing girls on one side, with their ribbons and finery, making the place where they sat as blooming and lively as a flower-garden, and, on the other, fiery, forward, confident young men. 11. But I have neglected to mention the redoubtable chorister, who occupied the seat of honor in the midst of the middle gallery, exactly opposite the minister. Methinks I can see him now as he appeared to my eyes on that first Sunday, when he shot up from behind the gallery, as if he had been sent up by a spring. 12. He was a little man, whose fiery-red hair, brushed straight up on the top of his head, had an appearance as vigorous and lively as real flame. With what an air did he sound the important fa-sol-la in the ears of the waiting gallery, who stood with open mouths, ready to seize their pitch, preparatory to their general set-to! How did his ascending and descending arm astonish the zephyrs, when once he laid himself out to the important work of beating time! 13. How did his little head whisk from side to side, as now, he beat and roared towards the ladies on his right, and now, towards the gentlemen on his left! It used to seem, to my astonished vision, as if his form grew taller, his arm longer, his hair redder, and his little green eyes brighter, with every stave; and, particularly, when he perceived any falling off of time or discrepancy in pitch, with what redoubled vigor would he thump the gallery and roar at the delinquent quarter, till every mother's son and daughter of them skipped and scrambled into the right place again! 14. He was no advocate of your dozy, drawling sing ing, that one may do at leisure, between sleeping and waking, I assure you; indeed, he got entirely out of the graces of Deacon Dundas and one or two other portly, leisurely gentlemen below, who had been used to throw back their heads, shut up their eyes, and take the comfort of the psalm, by prolonging indefinitely all the notes. The first Sunday after 'Kiah took the music in hand, the old deacon really rubbed his eyes and looked about him; for the psalm was sung off before he was ready to get his mouth opened, and he really looked upon it as a most irreverent piece of business. 15. But alas, for the wonders of that old meetinghouse! how they are passed away! Even the venerable building itself has been pulled down, and its fragments scattered; yet still I retain enough of my childish feelings to wonder whether any little boy was gratified by the possession of those painted tulips and grape-vines, which my childish eye used to covet. I have visited the spot where it stood, but the modern, fair-looking building, that stands in its room, bears no trace of it; and of the various familiar faces that used to be seen inside, not one remains. Verily, I must be growing old; and, as old people are apt to spin long stories, I check myself, and lay down my pen. Harriet Beecher Stowe (abridged). LXXII. - UP IN THE WILD. P in the wild, where no one comes to look, UP There lives and sings a little lonely brook; Yet creepeth on to where the daylight shines. 2. Pure from their heaven, in mountain chalice caught, It drinks the rains, as drinks the soul her thought; And down dim hollows where it winds along, Pours its life-burden of unlistened song. |