stout pillars, and the bulging body swinging from side to side on huge
springs of wood and leather. No healthy man or woman, however, unless he
or she were very old, travelled otherwise than on horseback.

Now and then exchanging grave but kindly nods with their acquaintances,
they rode slowly along the level upland, past the Anvil Tavern, through
Logtown,--a cluster of primitive cabins at the junction of the
Wilmington Road,--and reached the meeting-house in good season. Gilbert
assisted his mother to alight at the stone platform built for that
purpose near the women's end of the building, and then fastened the
horses in the long, open shed in the rear. Then, as was the custom, he
entered by the men's door, and quietly took a seat in the silent
assembly.

The stiff, unpainted benches were filled with the congregation, young
and old, wearing their hats, and with a stolid, drowsy look upon their
faces. Over a high wooden partition the old women in the gallery, but
not the young women on the floor of the house, could be seen. Two
stoves, with interminable lengths of pipe, suspended by wires from the
ceiling, created a stifling temperature. Every slight sound or
motion,--the moving of a foot, the drawing forth of a pocket-
handkerchief, the lifting or lowering of a head,--seemed to disturb the
quiet as with a shock, and drew many of the younger eyes upon it; while
in front, like the guardian statues of an Egyptian temple, sat the older
members, with their hands upon their knees or clasped across their laps.
Their faces were grave and severe.

After nearly an hour of this suspended animation, an old Friend rose,
removed his broad-brimmed hat, and placing his hands upon the rail
before him, began slowly swaying to and fro, while he spoke. As he rose