Year: 1859

The Old Village Minister.


Many 8 readers heart will respond in al
most fearful sympathy, to the emotions un-
der which this beautiful picture of the "Old
| Village Minister" and the Sabbath Associ-
ations of other days must have been
sketched:


In an eastern paper we read 3 line or two,
the other dey-the brief announcement oi
death. It was in little type; it was with
out note or comment; only the death Of the
old village minister,


And so, the gray-haired man who min.
istered at the altar, is dead; whose feet. as
| they walked on Zion's hill, were very beau
tiful in our eyes. How well do we remem-
Der, when the storm came up, and the sun
was hidden, and cloud called out to cloud.
| that We wished ''the minister" would come,
for surely no harm could enter the dwelling
that he blest We used to forget about the
| falling sparrows, but then We had faith in
him. and many a time did We wonder and
doubt whether be ever could not be waited
away, like the prophet of old in a chariot
of fire.


Then, they had not thrown away the old
deacon and got one that was new; sleek
looking juvenile deacon, with glossy black
hair. The gallery was not gay with red
curtains on rings, from behind which came
whispers and song. Then we had St. Mar
tins, st. Thomas and Near.


Shall we ever hear Denmark and Corinth
again ? Sweetly rose Dundee's wild war
BILE in those long-gon days; Old Hundred.
and Wells and Peterboro'-how grand they
were when the breath of the great congre-
CATION went up together, and the voices oil
matron and maiden were blended.


How distinctly the picture rises in mem
ory; the plain old church and the people
singing before the Lord. The mir lister
''read for their instruction" every Sabbath
morning, and prayed for the Lambs of tt e
flock and for them that were feeble and old
that God would have them all in his good
keeping, guide them in green pastures, and
lead them beside the still waters, and gath
er them all in the fold at the last. How
much snow there used to be sprinkled about
them in June-time's SHOWS on the locks of
the old. They tell us there is less of il
now; that the children whose feet swung
clear of the floor, are the men and women
to-day; and the voice of theselder is stilled.
and the prayers that he uttered are ended.
They have removed the old square pulpit,
as high as a house, that succeeded the
swallows nest of predecessor, against the
wall; the swallows nest of a pulpit, that
hung there beneath flower shaped bell that
Linnaus never numbered OF named.


We are sorry that the old square look out
between heaven and earth is removed, for
1t was for years among the mysteries OF
childhood, what there might be in it--if
ever an angel, and where the minister went
when we could not see him. Often had we
stood at the foot of the stairs that led up to
! the mystery; but only once did we ever
venture to ascend them. Judge of our dis
appointment, that there was nothing of
gold there; no glories that we had read OF
in the Apocalypse; for we fancied there
were; there was rough, bare floor, an un-
cushioned bench, an old, worn Bible, an
ancient copy Of Watts PsaImody, and a
little pile of Sunday school books in corner.
| And it was thence, from the midst OF
such place, those words of eloquence had
come, that charmed, and thrilled, and awed
| in memory yet. We ascended the little
platform, and standing upon tiptoe, looked
over the high breast-work upon the empty
pews; there was something very grand
about it, we thought, that almost made us
breathless, and, stealing down, we left the
sacred place; more sacred to US than any we
have seen since, save the spot where the
minister had wearied and slept.


The members of the old congregation
have gone up to loftier courts, and we shall
see them no more. The grandmothers, in
sober black, that came tottering in with
their white handkerchief smoothly folded
and laid upon their arms; the fair -browed
girls, that sung the alto and the air; the
children, with the sprigs of carraway and
dill; the deacon, whose head blossomed like
an almond tree, hard by the pulpit door
the old women, that in winter time brought
the tin foot-stoves for solace; the little pa.
per fans, that waved, when days were sum
mer, like so many little wings about the
church, as if the old minister had a family
of chsrubim for audience; the old doxoIogy
they used to sing last in the forenoon; the
trembling benediction, like the blessing of q
patriarch, they received; these we shall new
er see and hear again as they were.


No loager, IN Sabbath moons. do they sii
upon the grass beneath the old poplars. and
talk in tones subdued, while taking their
frugal meal; no longer do they linger among
the old, gray gravestones of ''the burying
ground's that is since Cemetery" and
contemplate the stone willows that never
put forth leaf; for the times have changed
and there is but one sermon day, and
those who brought their dinners of old,
have sat down, the most OF them, to the
feet of the Lamb, where the tree of life, the
true tree of heaven. and 40 poplar is bloom.
ing forever.


The deaf who sat on the pulpit stairs in
those old times, can hear the waving of Z
seraph's wing to-day. for the daughters O
music have been lifted from the dus
wherein they were lying; the old blind man
whose doubtful feet young eyes did guide
lives now in morning light, and old blael
Jonah. that stole softly in, and sat hunbly