Orleans County monitor. [volume] (Barton, Vt.) 1872-1953, 1885-06-15
A TENNESSEE MEETING-
HOUSE.

The little log meeting house at the
Notch stood high on a rugged spur
of the Great Smoky. Dense forests
encompassed it on every hand, OBJ
scuring that familiar picture of noun
tain and cloud and cove. From it's
rude, glassless windows, one could
look out on no distant vista save, per-
haps, in the visionary glory of heav-
en- or the climatic discomforts of hell.
according to the state of the con-
science, OF perchance the liver The
laurel tangled the aisles of the woods.
Sometimes from the hard benches q
weary tow-headed brat might rejoice
to mark in the monotony the frisking
of squirrel on bough hard by, or
a wood-pecker soemnly tapping. The
acorns would rattle on the roof, if
the wind stirred, as if in puctuation
of the discourse. The pines, muster
ing strong among the oaks, joined
their mystic threnody to the sad
voiced quirlng within. The frs stretch
ed down long, pendulous, darkling
boughs, and filled the air with their
balsamie fragrance. Within the
house the dull light fell over a few
rude benches and platform with a
{, chair and table, which was used as a
pulpit. Shadows of many deep, rich
tones of brown lurked among the raf-
ters. Here and there cobweb, woy-
en- to the consistence of fabric,
swung in the air. The drone of
blue-bottle, fiuttering in and out of
the window IN slant of sunshine,
might invade the reverent silence. as
Bro. Jake Tobin turned the leaves
to read a chapter. Sometimes there
would sound, too, a commOtion
among the horses without, unharness-
ed from the wagons and hitched to
the trees then in more than one of
the solemn faces might be deserted
an anxious purturbation-not fear of
equine perversities, but because of
the idiosyncrasies of callow human
nature in the urchins left in charge
of the teams. No one ventured to
investigate, however, and, with that
worldly discomfort contending with
the spiritual exaltations they sought
to foster, the rows of religionists
swayed backward and forward in
rythm to the readers voice, rising in
long, billowy sweeps of sound, like
the ground swell of ocean waves.
1t was strange, looking upon their
faces, and with a knowledge of the
limited phases of their existence,
their similarity of experience here,
where hundred years may come and
go, working no change save that,
like the leaves, they futtered awhile
in the outer air with the spurious an
imation called life, and fell in death,
and made way for new bourgeonings
like unto MISUNDERSTANDING to mark
how they differed. Here was man
of stern, darkly religious conviction,
who might either have writhed at the
stake or stopped to kindle the flames !;
; and here was an accountant soul that
knew only those keen mercantile mo-
tives-the hope of reward and the
fear of hell and here was an enthu-
siast's eye, touched by the love of
God; and here was an unfinished,
hardly humanized face, that it SEEM
ed as presumptuous to claim as the
exponent of soul as the faces of the
stupid oxen out of doors. All were
earnest; many wore the expression
of excited interest, as the details of
the chapter waxed to a climax, like
the tense stiffness of a metropolitan
audience before an unimagined coup
de theatre. The men all sat on one
side, chewing their qulds; the women
on the other side, almost masked by
their limp sun bonnets. The ubiquit-
Gus baby-several of him-was there,
and more than once babbled aloud
and cried peevishly. Only one, be-
coming uproarous, was made pub
lie example; being quietly borne out
and deposited in the ox-wagon, at
the mercy of the urchins who presid-
ed over the teams, while his mother
creaked in again on the tips of dep
recating, anxious toes, to hear the
word.
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