USA > Massachusetts > Worcester County > Spencer > Historical sketches relating to Spencer, Mass., Volume II > Part 3
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This house of worship that crowned the hilltop was in plain accord with early New England church architecture. It was simply a square pine box. The spire generally rising from such structures was wanting in this instance. But the building was stoutly timbered and never yielded to the fury of the winds annually sweeping its unsheltered site.
Two broad doors sunned themselves at the south front. Two rows of square windows on the eastward side caught and admit- ted without hindrance the morning light and their fellows on the western side blazed as the day waned and the setting sun glowed before its vanishing beyond the Oakham hills.
The churchyard had a rough enclosing wall on three sides, the front being open to the highway. There were no sheds for horses. A row of sturdy posts for the tieing of such family ser- vants was along the enclosing stone fence. At the bases of these posts, valleys were hollowed out by the stamping of tethered horses impatiently waiting the pleasure of those they had safely drawn in wagon or chaise to the place of worship on the Lord's day. During two long preaching services, plus the noon hour for Sunday school, they were left to gnaw post meat. In winter few of these faithful servants had adequate blanket protection against wind and cold. The society founded by Henri Bergh to secure proper reverence and care of domestic animals, even after its form- ation, had no representative worshipping at this wayside altar.
But then the people within the hallowed walls were none too warm. The driving blasts often made the loose shutters shiver and shake. The cold came boldly in through many a crevice and more than balanced the oft failing fire. In the vestibule across the front, separated from the auditorium by a close partition broken only by two narrow entrance doors and two circular open- ings for the smoke pipes, were two box stoves for wood fires. The long, black smoke carriers passed through the audience room to a chimney at the north end of the house. These pipes were
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at times, indeed, superheated and all too often creosote from them served as "droppings of the sanctuary." While heat might be overhead, cold was ever regnant at one's feet and generally throughout the closely boxed pews with their safely button-fas- tened doors.
When the morning service ended, what a rush would follow stove-ward! The first comers would fill the hungry iron boxes afresh and then amid an unusually pleasant strife of tongues there would be brave effort to secure a fair division of proximity to the glowing fires. Alas, the coveted space where heat radiated geni- ally, was far too smal and the strong would generously yield vantage to the weak.
I clearly recall one foot stove brought by the mother of Jotham Randall, long the prosperous farmer on the half-tenant Bemis place, a half mile south on the road to the centre. The stately pile of ample buildings now called "The Owls" still stands a landmark of the elder days when great families of chil- dren called for generous housing.
Mother Randall used to fill her foot-comfort afresh from these noonday fires, so having glowing coals at her feet for the afternoon sermon. But the many would be, at close of services, as eager for a quick drive homeward as the shivering horses outside.
There was a high gallery on three sides of the auditorium. The pulpit, also high, was at the north end. Behind it hung a heavy red drapery. As a boy I wondered greatly what might be hidden by that unmoved curtain! The minister opened a very narrow door from the eastern aisle, mounted by several steps to a leather-cushioned bench along the wall. When he rose to open the service he stepped upon a stool of as much height as breadth and not over long. Upon this small base he stood during the long and short prayers, the reading of hymns and lessons and the delivery of his sermon, unless, because of special stature like Saul the King, he could spurn the stool for the pulpit floor. Even ยท then the space was scanty for much "bodily exercise."
On either side this pulpit, an awesome place to child-life in its day, was a low window. From my father's pew I could look through the one on my left to the hills, and often when the ser- mon failed to attract I took my fill of day dreams gazing at hill and sky. A fault in some of the panes of glass enabled me at a certain level to cut the crown of one hill from its broadening base and hold it in apparent mid-air. This gave a pleasing variety in vision and dream. In winter Jack Frost so thickly curtained this window that I was forced to forego such wandering of at- tention. Fortunately I very often found some new hat during the service that served my boy mind for stimulus and thought.
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RECOLLECTIONS OF THE BAPTIST CHURCH
"Ye singing men and ye singing women" had the south gal- lery. As I recall the matter, the side galleries were seldom used for family sittings. They had long forms, instead of box pews as on the floor below. In these upper sittings might usually be see11 certain lonely bachelors and some unwedded women of un- certain ages. Beside these were groups of young men and mai- dens, of boys and girls. Attention to other things than public worship was often in evidence. Rude, unasked and non-perti- nent, sometimes irreverent, carving of seats and desks evinced the active though undisciplined, Yankee mind. As some had executed such carving every vigorous lad ached to make his mark also. The deacons seated below could not and the minister, devoutly busy with his closely written sermon, was too seriously engrossed to keep a watchful eye on the gallery activities. Thus there was ample opportunity for the use of pocket knives as made these sittings all too generously and grotesquely illuminated and embellished.
To most of the active youth of both sexes these gallery seats were, for various reasons, at a premium. On the other hand de- vout and thoughtful parents ruled generally that their children should be with them in the family pews. There, between father and mother, youthful invention and wandering could be checked by a spray of "meet'n seed," a rap from the knuckle, or the sharp dominance of the steady eye.
I recall a day when for some unremembered reason my par- ents were detained at home and the three elder children were duly sent to meeting with clear admonition to sit in the pew and keep in reverent order as is fitting in public worship on the Sab- bath day. These orders were respected in the morning. At the noon hour temptation overcame the spirit of obedience, none too firmly seated in either. In the afternoon the pew was empty and three elated and giddy children swelled the usual gallery groups.
Returning we were duly questioned. "Yes, we sat in the pew, we remembered the text morning and afternoon, we had been obedient and good," I was bold to affirm. My sisters spake not to the contrary. Alas, we learned after dinner that it was easy for youthful giddiness to miscalculate. Just next door lived my uncle, the worthy and well remembered Dea. Amasa Hinds and his good wife, "Aunt Mary" to all the people of the vicinity. He came in and added materially to my report, placing us all under the ban of disobedience and the hasty boy under the more severe one of falsehood. Reproof and punish- ment followed both for ill behavior in the house of the Lord and deception, yes, lying, afterward. Nevertheless, such was my youthful, bad eagerness, I secretly exulted that I had once sat in that gallery !
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SKETCHES OF SPENCER HISTORY
The song-service at the old Meeting House was greatly varied in the years of its history. Sometimes there was a full choir with noble voices that live in memory still. There was a tenor more than fifty years ago most worthy of grateful mention. He was a bootmaker at Capt. Prouty's shop. His pure, full tones used to flood all the house with melliffluous sound. His name I have forgotten long, I know nothing of his career sub- sequent to his early departure from North Spencer. Possibly he continued to sing church music only as when my soul was ravished by the beauty of his song. Possibly he became an
SAMUEL BOYDEN, (Copy by Currin)
Born in Spencer January 16, 1813; died in Spencer August 12, 1893.
operatic star ; I know not. But I think I shall know that voice if it be heard in Heaven.
On some red letter days of my boyhood there was the presence at meeting of Dea. Barton and family of Holden. The family was ever welcome to honored place in the choir.
Dea. Barton sang bass with contagious vigor and evident delight. One daughter had a great soprano voice, pure and sweet. She was queenly in stature, bearing and song. To me
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as I looked from my seat on the floor upon her in the high choir she was as an angel singing at the open door of Paradise. Wor- ship at such times was real in my boy soul. I paid homage to the queenly woman, the rich song, the sunlit day, the house of God that glowed with celestial beauty there, plain and severe as it was, and in some quick, reverent apprehension I bowed all within me to God Himself, the Source and Giver of all.
Again I remember bleak and barren days when one cracked violin yielding to the uncertain handling of a man of enfeebled mind tortured the peaceful Sabbath air, while a woman unblessed with vocal sweetness strove for harmonious accord with the doubtful melody. Yet both these loved the Church and were worshipful in spirit. They valiantly served and, I trust, long since met approval and reward. Then, at a later day, there was an orchestra, two violins, a 'cello, double bass, flute, clarionet and reed organ, with a full choir of youthful voices. The song-service then was of high grade.
The study of church music was often the center of great interest to this people. Samuel Boyden gave years of faithful service in the direction of such study. He went to his reward years ago and gladly I pay here this tribute in his memory. He often called the choir together Sunday evening, for a " sing," as usually no other service was held. New music would be re- hearsed and preparation made for better things in public service. To one at least, simply a listener, the memory of such occasions is precious. Hymn tunes and anthems enriched a dull, yet .wak- ing soul as they were voiced in the old house in the long ago by a choir that has vanished from the earth.
There were singing schools in the years. Willard Lyon kept the first I remember. I shared his trial of voices, only to be told to be silent, as I failed to make musical sound. Later Mr. Boyden was singing master again and again. A choir leader from Rutland taught a school also, but for that, the parlor in the old tavern house hardby was utilized. William Sumner of Worcester, a master indeed, had the Meeting House full of learners for two successive winters.
Many pleasing memories cluster about these schools in which some things outside of musical study received much at- tention. Young life was there. Sighing swains and shy maid- ens bore themselves according to their kind everywhere. The "'eyes looked love that spake again," even as the master sharply called to renewed effort for fitting musical expression. Then at dismissal, after the rich blending of tones in some familiar hymn, would be seen the bold, yet often hesitant advance to some blushing fair one with the old question, "May I see you
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SKETCHES OF SPENCER HISTORY
home?" and then the dual, tender movement homeward of the happy youth.
Whence came they? Why from the full homes about the country-side. Large families of children were the rule in all the neighborhood. From farm house and from the dwellings of bootmakers vigorous youth gathered at the Meeting House in those days of memory.
Ah, those days have fled. The love-making ceased long since with all the other interests and activities that once clustered at Jocktown. In the Meeting House neither the tremulous tones of age nor the ringing calls of youth are heard. Song and prayer rise no more in the peaceful Sabbath air from that far suncrowned hill.
In those old days strong men preached mightily the word of God. Many leading Baptist divines were heard from that high pulpit. They came often from Worcester; some as oc- casional preachers, others for stated and prolonged service. Weaker men came also at times. The common people are many. All in all the ministries of those years of ecclesiastical life and history were valuable, a benefaction to many families of a wide bit of Worcester county.
The names of some are recalled: Harrington, Cutler, Cady, Lintel, Thompson among pastors; Graves, Simmons, Barber, Brown, Smith, Stone, Jones and Tandy, among stated and oc- casional supplies. Most, if not all, of these have finished their work on earth.
Strong people gathered there to be ministered unto. The pews offered no slight challenge to the pulpit. Some as noble men and women as I have ever known used to sit quietly, reverently in those closed, highbacked pews, for the more part innocent of the comfort of upholstery. Eagerly they waited for the "strong meat " of doctrinal discussion and the fervor of application and appeal.
Piety sweetly bloomed and had excellent fruitage. Quiet, deep, pervasive piety. Saintly men and women, worshipped, served, sacrificed, had victory and later went home to Heaven and God leaving behind a hush, a fragrant memory and a blessed influence in home and Church.
Thus Father and Mother Lyon departed, especially Mother Lyon whom the Lord spared years after her husband passed on. She loved the Church, the meetings, her Bible and the people, one and all, though in age and feebleness she long made the weekly pilgrimage to God's house and kept so in touch with young life that all sought her presence and Christian word. In peace and ripe for translation, she was not, for God took her.
Mrs. Tyler Newton was another saint, also living near the Meeting House and ever present on Sundays at covenant meet-
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ings, always devout, prayerful, humble, sweet and true. In the midst of usefulness she went from labor to reward. But here can be no adequate memorial of many. I can only mention such devout ones as Mrs. Dwight Walker, Mrs. Samuel Boyden, Miss Sally Duncan, Mrs. S. H. Cunningham and her sister, Miss Sally Bellows, Mrs. Horace Knight, my own inother, Father Warren, Horace Snow, Lucius Snow, Mrs. Bryant, two of that name, Mr. and Mrs. L. Monroe, all these and others too, whose names are written in Heaven, helped to the enrichment of church life and of the conimon life on every side.
So the years rolled by. Changes came, families were broken, attendance lessened, the support of a minister became more and more difficult, money for church necessities by sub- scription and common contribution came to be inadequate. Social assemblies, levees, suppers were planned and often made financially successful. Great loads of friends who had moved to business centers came to these gatherings bringing good cheer, hilarity, open purses and sometimes a wildness none too pleasing to those who loved the Church and sought to bless and prolong its life amid manifold discouragement.
Another glance at the history must be before I turn away. In the years memory covers, some precious revivals of religion had place. The first I recall was early in the fifth decade of the nineteenth century, and during the ministry of Stephen Cutler. For months previous to his coming there had been no pastoral oversight, and so far as memory serves, no preaching. Yet the Meeting House was open on Sunday and week by week a com- pany of the devout and prayerful met to read the Word together, to sing, to pray, and to cheer and stimulate their common faith and love by mutual, reverent speech. Sometimes the number was so small that all were grouped in one of the big, four-square corner pews. I dinily remember the things said and done. I hear across the sixty years hymns and chorus, impassioned prayer and burning testimony. I see again the awe-struck faces, the streaming eyes of those Godly ones of a day that is past. Their prayer was heard, divine blessing, divine leadership was assured and a revival followed as naturally as fruitage follows the passion- ate blossoming of an apple orchard. A lad only and full of wonder at phenomena beyond my ken, yet somehow sure the Lord was with that little unnoted company in an humble house of prayer on a hilltop alone, the blessing of it all has been a frequent inspir- ation in times of need.
Interest in these quiet Sabbath meetings for prayer grew. I do not recall any talk of effort to secure a minister. Doubtless such a matter was duly discussed. However that may have been, prayer for the help of God continued. Then, as I recall the past
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SKETCHES OF SPENCER HISTORY
Dr. Cutler very unexpectedly appeared. He was a physician. How he came to North Spencer I know not, but judge that he was "a man sent from God." He was unordained, I think, and without large experience as a preacher. His ministry proved deeply evangelistic. The work already in the hearts of the people broke forth in power. Many confessed desire and purpose to become the disciples of Jesus. The meetings were of exceeding interest. Crowds came, listened and their hearts were touched.
A day of baptisms came. Dr. Cutler had been ordained and was ready for the service. Northward from the Meeting House was a deep and broad pool in the Seven Mile River, where from the earliest days baptisms had been. The irreverent long before the time of which I write had named it "The Dipping Hole." This name took nothing from the sacredness of this day of reverent service and prayerful observance of the sacred ceremony. It was indeed a day to be remembered.
After the baptisms, in the second service, there was a line of candidates for the "right hand of fellowship" extending from the Communion Table down the aisle to the entrance door. One note of sadness was in that impressive hour. In the choir sat a man with shadowed face, who had that day received Christian baptism with the others and yet shrank from farther identifica- tion with the people of God. I think he continued to halt. I remember another day of baptismal service. Near the high- way bridge a little below the residence of Mr. Dwight Walker I saw my father and mother baptised. I cannot say whether or not others joined them in this step. I ought to say, farther, that I think this work was as genuine and deep as any I have known, albeit the preparation for it was so largely the humble service of lay people who simply waited on God in prayer and supplica- tion.
Another time of refreshing merits notice and record. It came in the fall of 1857. Came in advance of the country-wide movement that spread from the noonday prayer meeting instituted by Mr. Jeremiah Lanphier in the Fulton Street Church of New York, and made the winter of '57 and '58 remarkable in the history of the century.
A student had begun preaching at the old Meeting House. This student, Joseph Barber, was devout and earnest, though only a novice in the work of a minister. On a certain sunlit September day, not long after his coming to the Church, he visited my father. I was at home that season caring for the farm as a way to renewed health and frequently went with the rest of the house to Church as in my boyhood. After dinner Mr. Barber asked me to walk with him to the wood nearby. He
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opened his heart and the afternoon was mostly given to united prayer among the trees. In the evening of that day there was a prayer meeting at the home of Josiah Lyon. There was no special interest of which any found occasion to speak. The young pastor alone was responsible for the appointment of this cottage meeting for prayer. Yet before it closed some of the young people openly set themselves unto the following of Christ. To most of the Church, even, such a meeting was as unexpected and startling as lightning and thunder from an unclouded sky.
DANIEL AMASA BALL, Born in Spencer August 16, 1832; died in Spencer January 3, 1878.
The good work went forward from that night. Many were en- rolled as converts and brought new vigor to the Church. Among these was Daniel A. Ball, who ripened into a noble Christian man of great value at the center of the town in later years. All too soon for his many friends the final ripening came and he went from town, Church and home to the Lord he sought so eagerly in the revival that marked the waning years of the ancient Church of his kindred and prolonged for a season its Godly work and influence.
Indeed, after this awakening and blessed increase of Christian life, the interior of the meeting house was remodelled
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and the exterior painted, the galleries were taken out, the high pulpit ceased to be with its ancient drapery and the box pews gave place to more modern sittings. Seats for the choir were arranged at a moderate elevation opposite a new pulpit and a pleasing auditorium was the result.
A fitting dedicatory service followed this labor of love. But despite these material improvements and the general quick- ening and enrichment assured by the recent revival the drift of Protestant life to other and more central places continued and the Church suffered accordingly. The ancient homesteads in the vicinity passed, one by one, from the historic names. The Burnap, the Smith, Pond, Bellows, Ball, Bryant, Knight, Mon- roe, Lyon, Livermore, Cunningham, Hinds, Walker, Hubbard, Isaac Prouty, Newton, Boyden, Boice and Randall estates passed to people uninterested in the Baptist Church. The few remain- ing families were all too few to bear the burdens of public wor- ship. Zadok Pike, Calvin Woodbury, son-in-law of Elisha Prouty and living at that farin, Jonas Wilson and my father were all I now recall as left at the old homes, who would generously share such burdens. At this writing C. Woodbury alone is left.
So the time came when meetings at the old house ceased to be. Not a few, near and far, felt the sadness of it all and for a while sat in shadow. The major part were already housed and interested in the places whither the common necessities of life had compelled removal. The history remains. Mostly it is and will be unwritten. It is not lost. The good work done helped the shaping of many lives of Christian service elsewhere. Multi- form influence for truth and righteousness, for godly sobriety and saintly living for many years radiated from this humble Church through all the adjacent neighborhoods. Many homes were made wholesome centers of life as its holy communion and fellowship were shared though the passing years. Prayer, sermon and song live on and will. Hallowed memories abide.
The organic life of the early Baptist Church of Spencer after an interim of some years was renewed at the center of the town in a nobler edifice. There reverent memory of the earlier Baptist service and faithfulness will, in measure, be preserved by custody of the Church register and the record of the olden days.
The venerable house of the fathers has been torn down, carried away and used for other purposes. The stream of travel past the deserted and desolate place where once the Church stood is less rather than more. The neighboring homes have been decimated by fire. A lonely feeling oppresses one who visits the hallowed spot with quick remembrance of the days gone forever by. Yet such visitor may find, by lingering a little, the heart within warmed as though watchers on high still keep guard of a holy place.
SCHOOL DISCIPLINE SEVENTY
YEARS AGO
It was once thought that only a man could adequately fill all the requirements of a teacher of our district schools and the reason, largely, was that there were headstrong and undisciplined young men in almost every district who attended these schools, especially during the winter term, and so only a teacher of greater physical strength could maintain order in a schoolroom with several such characters under his charge. Moral suasion in those days was hardly thought comparable in value with physical force. The disobedient were not so much to be labored with in words as belabored with the rod, and the com- munity generally believed this to be the correct doctrine. But there are two cases in point which illustrate the fact that even male teachers did not always succeed in securing obedience to to their commands and it is quite probable they were more to blame than their pupils, by assuming a belligerent attitude when occasion did not require it, thus offering virtually a challenge to a test of physical strength. In the early days in District No. 2, among the scholars was one Maurice Livermore, a well built and vigorous young man. One day the teacher commanded him to do some service which to him was very distasteful. He refused compliance, whereupon the teacher advanced and gave him a ter- rific blow on the head with a ruler. Young Livermore at once grappled with the teacher, bore him to the floor, took the ruler away, but otherwise it does not appear that he punished him. He then marched out of school with the ruler in hand. In about half an hour he again appeared at the schoolroom door with a long black all-leather whip, stood it up carefully in a corner and took his seat. By this action he intended to give the teacher warning as to what was in store for him did he make any more attempts to discipline him without reason, and the warning was heeded. That night the whip was taken home and the affair ended. But it is said the small boys and girls were as much afraid of the sight of that whip as they would have been at the sight of a black snake.
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