USA > New Hampshire > Hillsborough County > Peterborough > Historical sketches of Peterborough, New Hampshire : portraying events and data contributing to the history of the town > Part 29
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I early familiarized myself with the differences between Christian denomi- nations; loved all, as my father did. He usually worshipped with the Bap- tists, but there was a period during which, because of a very strict en-
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forcement, by an exceptionally rigid minister, of the old time custom, now obsolete, as to the Lord's supper, he went to the Methodist church. Meth- odists and Free Will Baptists held much in common. With the advent of a less rigid pastor of the Baptist church he returned to that church. I was not long in observing that much as the denominations differed from each other, they all prayed alike. I took what Christians in common said on their knees as my creed, rather than written creeds. It has been my lot to worship for considerable periods with, Baptists, Free Baptists, (now gradually coming together), Congre- gationalists, Episcopalians and Dutch Reformed. I have taken as active a part in the work of each as in the de- nomination of my choice.
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Peterborough cotton manufactories were then at the height of their pros- perity. Substantially, all the opera- tives were natives of this or neighbor- ing towns, in Hillsboro or Cheshire counties; scarcely a foreign-born man or woman among them; all of excellent, Protestant American families. There were very many devoted Christian . people among them. All the churches depended largely on the moderate con- tributions of these for the maintenance of services. This was perhaps a little more true of the Baptist and Metho- dist churches than the others. There were fewer men of means in these. No- body in either could be said to be rich. It was always a hard struggle. If they barely kept alive then it is a mys- tery how they live now, with the mills filled with Catholic help, and, finally, so largely suspending operations.
Thus far, I have spoken of general conditions in all the churches. Now I will consider the churches separately, what I saw in each, beginning with that in which this service is held.
THE PRESBYTERIAN OR CONGREGATIONAL CHURCH.
I have no distinct and clear recollec- tion of the old church on the hill, in the east part of the town. As a boy, I used to visit the Ethan Hadley fam- ily, who lived in that neighborhood, and probably my father, who was in hearty fellowship at least with all the so-called evangelical churches, took me, quite young, to that church. I have an indistinct impression that I visited it with the Hadley brothers. The period was marked by the removal of meeting houses from the hills to the valleys, not here only, but all over New England. I remember that soon after this the Unitarian church in Dublin, which used to stand at the top of the ridge, the water from one side finding its way to the Connecti- cut, that on the other side, to the ocean by way of the Nubanusit, then Goose Brook, the Contoocook and the Merrimac, was removed, in the early fifties, to its present location. This house was built, or at least completed, in 1840. I was present at its dedi- cation. Two of my brothers sang on that occasion: Oren B. Cheney, after- wards president of Bates college, at Lewiston, Maine, and Moses Cheney, Jr. The latter sang in the choir till he left town in 1843. I vividly recall a choir unpleasantness in which he was conspicuous on one side, and David Youngman, a medical student, and later principal of the Academy, on the other. I united with the Bap- tists in 1850, but that church was more than once pastorless for quite a time; and then I sang in yonder gallery, un- der Asa Davis and with Mr. and Mrs. John Barker. I have this additional interest here. I then attended regu- larly this Sunday school. I remember Fanny Smith, who I believe started this school, and the first private Sun- day school in Peterborough. Her
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name was a household word in my boyhood days.
About the most solemn, terrific hour I ever saw in any church was in this house, one Sunday afternoon, a year or two after it was dedicated. There was a terrific wind, rain and hail storm. The pastor was Rev. J. R. French, a cultured, consecrated man with a religious experience of his own, whom I loved dearly to hear. The worst of the storm was in the midst of the prayer. And prayers and sermons were long then, the preliminaries brief. There were no paid singers, no special music; only the two hymns before and the closing hymn after the sermon. The choir leader did not always know what those would be till they were given out. He must select the tune while the hymn was being read. I. knew a few breakdowns because the tune selected did not fit. There was terror on every face that summer Sunday afternoon. Mr. French kept right on with his prayer, with words of comfort and assurance from the Scriptures. It seemed as if the windows must give way and let the storm break in. There was no panic nevertheless; but the trees had to be cut out of the roads before those of us who lived a mile or two out could get home.
THE GREAT TEMPERANCE REVIVAL.
All these churches were early in the total abstinence movement. It burst suddenly on the country in the early thirties. It was not long, like the Sunday school movement, in striking Peterborough. Each and all respond- ed to this and all related educational or moral reform movements. Here was something on which they could and they early did unite. There had been temperance societies before; but it was for adults. It was in this house, in '1842, when I was ten years old, that I first took the total abstinence
pledge. A Mr. Hale came here and organized and directed the movement. I can see just where I sat. My right hand boy was Henry Gowing. There must have been near 200 of us, if memory serves me. Mr. Hale taught us juvenile songs, befitting the occa- sion. Here is a verse of one of them. May be we did not sing this; only repeated it in concert. I do not recall the music.
"So here we pledge perpetual hate To all that can intoxicate;
Cider, brandy, rum and gin,
And all that can intemperance bring."
My mother had been the first person in the old town of Holderness, whence we came, to take the temper- ance pledge. "Mrs. Cheney and another fool"-the way scoffers put it-were the only signers the first evening. But Abigail Morrison Che- ney was no fool. She had convictions; and she stood by and for them. My father returned to Holderness in 1845, resumed his place as deacon, and so long as he served, my mother made both the bread and the wine used at the Lord's Supper,-nearly thirty years. They would not use fermented wine. John Hawkkns, the eloquent leader of the Washingtonian movement, was here and drew crowds to hear and to take the pledge in 1842. I think he was here more than once; and that he spoke in the Unitarian church. Those were the days of Father Matthew, John B. Gough, Neal Dow, and many another noted temperance advocate. In the fifties came the Sons of Temperance-Goose Brook Division No. 25, and co- operating the Daughters of Tem- perance and the Cadets of temper- ance. Those organizations were very strong all over the state. Their hall was in the old McGilvray store, where the town library now is. For two
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years while I was learning my trade in the TRANSCRIPT office I took care of the hall. The printer's devil did not have much money. So earned I the money to pay my dues. The lamps were old whale oil lamps. I used turpentine on the wicks to get a quick light. Mills and churches were lighted in the same way, or by tallow candles. There were no street lights, no side walks, no sewers, no bath rooms. All refuse went to the garden; sink spout emptied there. There was no police. This to explain under what conditions the early churches wrought. The town the same popu- lation as now. In 1850 it was 2222; easy to remember. But, to offset, the taxes! I recall definitely the poll tax for 1854-$1.01, and the poll was then $350 instead of $100 as now. The tax on $100 would be 29 cents. That was near the average. How anybody lived under those sanitary conditions is a marvel. I can go to lots of graves in yonder cemetery whose occupants died of fever or consumption.
The demand for prohibition was already on. The town had been Democratic, but in 1853 temperance Democrats, Whigs and Free Soilers quietly sent a temperance Democrat, Isaac Hadley, and a temperance Whig, Person C. Cheney, to the house. They were partners in business; neither had sought the nomination of his party. The law did not come that ycar, but it did come two years later. My father was a member from Hol- derness, and voted for it, as my · seemed much devoted to reformatory
brother, Oren B., had been a member of the Maine legislature that passed the original Maine law. Maine keeps hers; is surer to keep it today than ever. New Hampshire kept hers 48 years; changed it for the least ob- jectionable license law of any state. If there can be a best bad law this is one. The drift today is obviously
towards state prohibition. Peter- borough took her stand then-thanks to these churches: Thanks to these churches, she has stayed "dry" ever since. The greatest triumph of the Sons was when Ira Spofford joined. His wife, a prominent Daughter, was very anxious. There was good stuff in him, but for one weakness. We voted him in; but when lodge night came his old friends contrived to have him unfit to cross the portal. Finally, some brother suggested that "If Ira Spofford once takes our pledge, he'll keep it; let's take him as he is to- night." And we did. I was con- ductor. I may not repeat all that took place. But Ira Spofford "stuck" for many years; was the leader in ferreting out rum sellers and bringing them to justice. And wasn't Mrs. Spofford happy? It was my brother Charles G. Cheney, a lawyer, who brought the suits for which Ira Spof- ford furnished the evidence. Charles G. was moderator that year when first temperance carried the town. A Democrat. I that year cast my first vote, Frec Soil. The Free Soilers nearly all voted the temperance Whig and Democrat for the legislature. These churches did it-under God. And they builded well; forgot creed; made religion a Life. Wherefore' I love them.
I tell this and the next following story in this connection because the incidents related took place so largely in this edifice. In its first years, it movements, not strictly religious.
THE SLAVERY QUESTION.
Scarcely less decided was the posi- tion of pastor, deacons and most of the membership of this church in the carly days of the anti-slavery move- ment. Dea. John Todd moved west in 1843 or 1844; great loss to church
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and town. Dea. Nathaniel H. Moore and Dea. Andrew A. Farnsworth; how blessed and how swcet the memo- ry of such men. How fortunate this church to have had them. I knew them best, and so must recall them specially. . But each was one among many like him. In 1842 John W. Lewis, a Free Will Baptist minister, and a fairly good preacher, as well educated and as refined as a majority of F. Baptists of that period, came to town, and preached in one of the revival meetings, in the Presbyterian church. He stopped at my father's house, the little, low two-tenement brick house just this side of the West Peterborough school house. Abraham P. Morrison, my mother's brother, lived in the east, my father in the west end. It was a regular station of the "underground railroad," of which you all have heard, and which was no myth, but a real entity; in fact, the first railroad in New Hampshire. I remember several ruanway slaves who came there, whom my parents kept for a night and sent them on, up Windy Row towards Hancock, to some trusted abolitionist there, the next day. I personally accompanied at least two some distance towards Han- cock. I drove the jet black minister to this church that evening, took him back home. This church denied no colored man its pulpit in those days, when it was not popular to entertain "'niggers." In this church, too, I heard Frederick Douglas, twelve years later, amid a stillness that was painful, picture the then recent so-called apostacy of Daniel Webster; his ap- proval of the "compromise measures" of 1850, including the fugitive slave law, which imposed a fine of $1000 on a man who should do what my father was doing, help a runaway slave. Liberty-loving Boston had surren- dered; delivered up Anthony Burns.
My brother Oren happened in Boston and witnessed a scene that came near deluging Boston in blood. Here is what he wrote to The Morning Star concerning it.
"Go back! Oh thou great and mighty God! Thou ruler of the land and sea! Why dost thou not in anger stretch out thine hand and let thy winds blow, thy tempests rise, thy. ocean rock in fury, thy thunder-bolts crash all on board-one only except- ed-go to the bottom! Why? Be- cause Thou art slow to anger and waitest to be gracious. Thou canst bear it. Help me to bear it in the spirit of an unworthy child of thine. My prayer then only shall be 'Forgive them; they know not what they do.' To my brother in bonds:
'Live and take comfort. Thou hast left behind
Powers that will work for thee: air, earth and skies.
There's not a breathing of the com- mon mind
That will forget thee. Thou hast great allies.'"
This, written by one well known here in those days, who helped by his splendid voice to dedicate this house, illustrates the spirit of those times; helps us to measure the intense mean- ing of what Frederick Douglas here uttered. We are looking charitably on Mr. Webster now; can see that he saw the coming conflict, and shrank from it. Possibly many more of us would so have shrank if we had fore- scen all. It is not to re-arouse any criticism of Mr. Webster that I here revive what Mr. Douglas said on that occasion, but to be true to history. I, more than any other, got him here for that occasion. I was of age now, editing the TRANSCRIPT, keeping house in the Sally Scott house on this street. He stayed with me, as he had stayed
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with my father on his first visit twelve years before. "These were Mr. Douglas' exact words:
"They told him to speak, and he spoke. They told him to jump, and he jumped. They told him to roll over, and he rolled over. And then- and then-they told him-to go-and lie down. And he went; and he laid down-and (whispered) he died."
Imagine the effect, in a packed house, in the midst of a publie feeling so intense; so soon after Mr. Web- Webster's decease, a little more than a year. I sang in yonder gallery that evening. Asa Davis was leader. I cannot recall all the selections, but this for one:
"The might with the right and the truth shall be;
And come what there may to stand in the way,
That day the world shall see."
At this time slavery was at its very strongest in possession of every branch of the Federal Government. A sena- tor from South Carolina had just declared from his seat: "Capital should own labor." And not a man of his party rebuked him. It took courage and it took faith to stand for the right. It was a trying time for churches. I have thought that some of the words which echoed from within these walls should be re-echoed down the ages, ere they who heard them drop out. "Lest we forget" I speak. No churches anywhere rose to the occasion better than Peterborough churches. None better than this ehureh. God bless and perpetuate her.
How little the strongest of us in faith then dreamed that within a dozen years Slavery would be dead, not only in America, but in all the West Indies, in Brazil, and its like, serfdom, in Russia. What hath God wrought!
THE BAPTIST CHURCH.
The Baptists early caught the spirit of removal from hill to valley, sold their house, a pretty good one with ample grounds, at the summit of High street, and built their present home. The house on the hill was made a tenement house; but was burned many years ago. My carliest recollection of going to church was there. Soon ¿ as I was big enough I had to walk the mile and a half. Usually from the beginning of Union street I used to "cut across," over the hill through the pasture. I used sometimes to take my shoes off, go barefoot, elear to the wall near the church, put them on there. So precious were the shoes that John Perry, the cobbler, made me out of father's old boot legs. We had to save shoes then; it was hard for father to keep us all supplied. We were eleven. There were no shoe stores. The cobbler did it all. Just before this, late in 1839, Deacon Thomas Wilson, the leading man in this church, died. It was a great loss; discouraging, just as it seemed neces- sary to go where the people were, instead of asking them to climb Zion's Hill, as it was sometimes ealled. Dea. Franklin Mears took the labor- ing oar in building, became the owner of the business basement. A portion was, however, reserved and used as a vestry, continued so as long as I lived here. I saw the building, from founda- tion to spire top, go up. I wish that had stayed. A real church spire, pointing to heaven, has always im- pressed me. This was in 1841. There was my religious home. There, under the tender, sweet, scholarly preaching of Rev. Zebulon Jones, the first minister whose preaching I really took in, I came to years of understand- ing; began to take life seriously. Zebulon Jones stands out as the first mountain peak which I encountered
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in my religious life. The very tones of his voice ring in my ears to this day. I loved him. He was principal of the Academy; in school or church a born educator of youth. I was too young for the academy. His days have seemed to me its palmiest days. He passed through the waters in the loss of the wife of his youth; married again into a leading family, all of whom I think were Presbyterians, the Allison family, of whom John P. is best known. I remember, when he left, thinking his place could never be filled in my heart. It never was. There was an excellent Sunday school in connection with this church. I was early in it, so early I do not remember when. Can see exactly where our class sat. Miss Nancy Farnsworth was our teacher. Sunday schools were not what they are now. We simply learned and rccited choice portions of the Bible, and teachers made them plain to our child minds. She was wise in selection. There was no Sunday school literature then. The Bible was our only text book. Well, what I committed then never left me. It served me when, for three years at a time in a foreign land I did not hear a prayer or a sermon that I could understand. The word was hid in my heart, and my deprivation only made me prize more highly my church privileges. A character that greatly interested me in connection with this church was David Smiley, senior, a revolutionary soldier. He was ninety years old when I united with the church, in 1850; but I had known him ten years of my boyhood, and he was still an attendant of the social meet- ings as late as 1854. I can see his attitude in prayer, and remember his usual closing words. I venerated him as a patriot and as a Christian. Another character who impressed me was a boy, four years older than I, who
carly united with the church, de- veloped wonderful musical talent, was alto enough for a whole choir; and the seats were full. His voice sounded out above all the rest, a rich alto, Ethan, son of Ethan Hadley. I envied him his genius. He became my brother-in-law, grew to be leader of the choir, but removed early, led choirs, and led bands in Keene and for long years in Chicopee Falls, Mass. With no other one man save my father did I ever take so much, so varied and so sweet counsel on sacred subjects. He went home a year ago at the age of 86. At 83, I found him conducting the Home Department of his Sunday school. He told me that when first he saw the keyboard of the old melodeon-there were no pianos then in country places-he took in instinctively the whole scheme, could sit right down and play it, without a teacher. He never had a teacher, but became a successful teacher. With a musical education, he would have shone.
This leads me to say that the use- fulness of all these churches is shown perhaps best of all in the men and women they have sent forth to useful lives into every part of the country.
THE METHODIST EPISCOPAL CHURCH.
I am not sure in what year the present Methodist meeting house was erected or where the church wor- shipped previously. Possibly 1840; possibly even 1839. It is of course known. I was a small boy; remember seeing it when building, the talk about it in our family. There were several Methodist sisters, and two or three Methodist families, operatives in or boarding-house keepers in connection with "Steele's Factory." They were much at my father's house, and my ears were bigger then than now. They were the life of the prayer meetings
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in the old kitchen. Methodist minis- ters led those meetings more than any other. The one I best remember was a Mr. Cromack, simply because somc mischievous lad onc cvcning drew a rude profile of him, true to life, on the white kitchen wall, and wrote under it, nccdlessly-"Cromack." It
stayed a long while. A younger sister, sccing .it, cxclaimcd "All sings, Komac." To this day shc is occa- sionally reminded of it. I remember also an Elder Adams. Some of those sisters were gifted in prayer and cxhortation. All about the new house was much discussed therc. Whether my father helped any l do not know. It would be like him. They had to build modestly; it took all they could raisc; and they necdcd morc. But the "Faith of our Fathers, holy Faith" was in them to a large degree. 1 re- member hearing whether the house should have a steeple or not talked over. Methodists then dressed plain, worc no jewelry, built unpretentious churches, usually spircless. When the house was completed it had a modest stecple. The steeple of today secms to me larger, but I am not sure if the original was ever enlarged. The whole inside arrangement is reverscd. The pulpit and altar rail were then be- tween the doors, the congregation facing entrances; the floor if I remcm- bcr right, slightly inclincd. The church membership grew healthily all through the period of which 1 spcak. Souls were added by conver- sions which seemed startling. I re- member when Dr. P. D. Badger, a botanical physician, "experienced religion," and what a changed man he was. He became a very active temperance worker; in his temperance addresscs so much uscd the term "besom of destruction" that to see him was to suggest the term. But other substantial men and women
came into that church in the years immediately following the advent of the new house of worship. The wis- dom of its crection was vindicated.
THE MILLERITE MOVEMENT.
In connection with this church, because so many mcctings were held there, I will speak of the Millcrite or Adventist excitement of 1843,of which I saw much, at the most easily im- pressible period of my life, and so re- member more than I may here pro- perly relate. William Miller had fixed 1843 as the year in which Christ should return, time end and eternity begin. All through 1842, I attended meetings in the Methodist and Baptist churches, and many in private houses, at which Elder Preble and others proclaimed the new and startling doctrine. I recall the great charts up back of the Baptist pulpit, by the aid of which the whole scheme, based on the prophecy of Daniel, was figurcd out; a simple matter of arithmetic. The Methodist and Baptist churches were both open to the advent preach- crs, who were really excellent men, with as they thought, a gospel mes- sage. It was hard to deny them. Large portions of the congregations werc more or less in sympathy or doubt. Why not? Jesus taught his disciples to expect his return and kecp doing so till he should comc. William Miller might be right. Simultaneous- ly, whether aided or caused by it, an unusual revival spirit pervaded churches all over the land, and in England. All these churches were quickened by it. There were many conversions-many radically changed lives-many additions to all the churches. All distinct from the Ad- ventist movement. Men and women who were wont getting together to talk anything but religion, now talkcd religion. Wherever people met it was
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the common theme. Call it what you . will, it was a fact. There was scoffing and ridicule, more or less; but in gencral people were more than ordi- narily serious.
The 31st of December came. At evening, there was a watch mccting in the Methodist church. I was there. The house was filled. Elder Preble, the leading adventist, and the pastor whose name I forget, were within the altar rail. There was preaching and prayer and exhortation, very earnest, early in the evening. I was tremendously wrought up; not that I feared; I had given my heart to God. My father had assured me that Christ's appearance was to be desired; could only mean good to those who loved him. I have hanging in my bedroom today a beautitu walli lithograph of Jesus, life size, head and shoulder, (I do not know from what painting) which my father brought home from Boston, possibly two or three years before. As a boy, a look at it was sufficient to convict in me of sin if I had sinned. It has been a help to me all through life. Under it is Publius Lentus' lettter to ' the Roman Scnate describing Jesus of Nazareth. The face is the embodi- ment of love. Nobody could fear to see the like. There was a long period of silent prayer before midnight. Elder Preble stood watch in hand. It was solemnly still. When the hand indicated 12 midnight, Eldcr Preble calmly, sweetly, solemnly, said: “Wc have now entcred on the year in which I expect to see my Lord." Imagine the effect. What else was said I for- get. Probably not much. We soon went each to our homes.
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