The Waterbury Democrat., 1939-01-28

tracted by the quiet dignity of the church edifice. It has been standing here since 1846, when 1t was dedicated. Joseph o. Wells, the architect, copied, m part, the Church of St. Saviour, in Bath, England. But the central tower, which gives the church its solid grandeur, is taken directly from the tower of Magdalene col- lege, oxford. When visited Ox- ford, a few years ago, I had Q pe- culiarly haunting feeling about the central tower. of that college. was sure I had seen 1t before. Here 1t Is. It took several years for me to clear up the mystery of where I'd met that tower before.
 Within, peace. There were few lights on, and those few were so distant that you could not place them. One woman, dressed in black, was sitting immobile in a pew, ten paces down the long cen- ter aisle. I thought she was the only other person in the church. Yet I could hear rising and falling sounds, as of feminine voices. I walked slowly about the aisles, dr4nklng in the glory of the green ish west window, faintly illumi- mated by the cold light ot @ winter sun, strained through snowfall.
 No carnival, th.s. The dark oaken pews and woodwork softly rettecved the pale light. The som- Der stained glass windows were in ecnpse, for the weak light of the dy4ng day could not penetrate them.
 The church is spacious, austere, wlCh an aLmospnere of worsnip. l thought ot the I.ttie group of eres- pyGerians who held prayer meet ings away oown town m 17U6; of the organ.zation of this First church In 17l6. Of the determina- ton of these people, who, exiled while the British occupied the city during the Revolution, re- turned to find their church in runs. after the redcoats had been sent home. How they rebuilt, re- newed, worshipped.
 No, I don't thnk you can destroy religion in this country, MT. Stalin, as you seem to have done in Rus sia. There's 8 certain spirit here. These Presbyterians have 1t still, as they had 1t in l776 and 1785, and you'll ind most of the rest of the people have 1t, too.
 I'm not @ Presbyterian, but as I walk reverently apout the alsles of this, which may be the most peau- tiIul of all tnelr churches in this country, I pay my respects to the Pre-. py Cer4ans wno maue 1t poss.ple for me to be here, dolng thls work toaay. (4ulCe a numper of them have been important m the back ground of my experience. l almost cervall4iy would never nave gone beyond the ungraded rural scnool If @ freSpy.er.an academy haon t otIered me a ScnolarsnAp. Four years spent there, ana learned something aoout the brotherhood of men wno believe what tneir Chef Teacher taught about good wlll. Well, well, so LnAs Is the rirst Presbyterian cnurcn of New York!
 The baptismal font is a simple piece of sLoneworK. Around the cage is carved 8 brief statement. Theodore Roosevelt was baptized out of this font.
 Night is closing in. I feel the throD of the pulse of history. Above this stone urn baby bawied wnile water was poured over his head. On a day as gray and cold as this one, I saw the weary pail- bearers carry him to rest in a coun- try cemetery, out near Oyster Bay. And the whlstling buoy m the bay intoned its weird, monotonous warning: Rock aheadl"
 Now I solve the mystery of those subdued voices. In the very front pew, center, two women s.t. One, an elderly, frail lady in black, is weeping ulscvl.soia.ely, but not loud. The other, young and strong, is talking to her. keassuringiy, comfortlngiy, but insistently. l do not want to know the story. But it has to do with a broken heart, and someone has sought courage here, in the holy hush of bitter evening, in the heart of old Man. hattan.
 Dear old ladyl Life and death have done you in, for the moment. But here is not lacking, here in the city so much reviled, a gentle soul to hold your trembling hand and speak the words the broken-heart- ed must hear, if they survive. It is a good place. 8 good city, a good hour. Let me tip-toe silently out into the storm.
 Copyright, 1889, McNaught
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