Norwich bulletin. [volume] (Norwich, Conn.) 1895-2011, 1910-04-02
THE MEETING HOUSE AT THE TOP OF THE ROAD

tibuIe as a refuge from the dust and
glare. The passage down the aisle was
terrible, every eye in every pew look
ping into the safe shelter Of their own.
the seventh from the front, she would
climb to her own place on the red
cushion, between her two brothers, her
small person serving as a sort Of
buffer to prevent mischief. Fortu-
nately. the pew had a high back, so
that she felt somewhat protected from
the row Of eyes behind her; and the
book-racks were filled with hymn
books and Bibles and other resources.
The child carried her own hymn book,
which had her name In gilt letters on
leaves; she could do this with her
tired eyes shut But her hour of rest
had not yet dawned. She was expect
ed to stand while the congregation was
prayer. and to remember the text.
Now the pulpit was built I'D SO high,
and the minister's head reached so
near to the ceiling and she had to
her shoulders in order to bring her
aching eyes to the angle of vision, that
sermon texts meant to her a strained
throat and a pain in the back Of the
neck. with the grateful dropping of
tired eyeljds over tired eyes" when
the ministers voice dropped to the
period like a welcome drop OF lead
She loved the sermon, and was CRATE
full for it; not that she listened. but
that she was relieved from listening.
While it went droning on, rising and
falling like the surges of the sea, the
child went inside of herself and had a
beautiful time. She could always have
a beautiful time. If people would leave
her alone, and let her dream dreams
like the old men and see visions like
the young For the rest she liked to
watch the old man in the side row
twirl his thumbs to keep himself
%I4n 1z<x~
under the shed paw the earth and
neigh in protest and swish their tails;
and she loved the sunlight streaming
in through the high white windows and
amusement lay in leaning back until
her little silk coat stuck to the varnish
OF the woodwork and then pulling
slowly forward until the silk creaked
and cracked itself free. This had TO
be done cautiously, lest there be
forbiddfng nod of mothers lace bon
net. The old meeting house was
iin4ei afum moep a story Of early SET
tier days, of Indian warfare, and of the
Revolutionary fight for freedom If
the child had known these stories, she
could have re-peopled the aisies and
galleries with the heroes of old. and
would have loved the sermon-t time even
more.
IF only it had all been over when the
ter church came Sunday school, held in
the chapel adjoining, where the tired
and tortured child was put into a class
with other small victims and ques-
toned concerning high and holy mys-
teries, to which not even "a little child"
can give answer. At last, even this
was over, the closing hymn had been
shouted out by shrill childish voices,
her hot-held coin dropped into the
mission box and she was free to go.
She few. There was the long hot
dusty walk home in the glazing sun
light of an August noon, and il was a
tired but grateful child that heard
once more the rumble of the big front
door, and stepped into the cool dark
entry. and climbed the stairs to
mothers room, and begged to have her
Sunday gown taken of. 1t was hap
by child who drew a long breath, and
walked in the garden, and looked at
the sky, and breathed In the fragrant
air, and. in her dumb, childish way,
was glad that God had made the world.
THE RECLUSE.