reproduced. These faces were not modern American faces, but belonged
rather to the days of the early settlement of the country, the old
colonial times. We often heard quaint words and expressions which we
never had known anywhere else but in old books. There was a great deal
of sea-lingo in use; indeed, we learned a great deal ourselves,
unconsciously, and used it afterward to the great amusement of our
friends; but there were also many peculiar provincialisms, and among the
people who lived on the lonely farms inland we often noticed words we
had seen in Chaucer, and studied out at school in our English literature
class. Everything in Deephaven was more or less influenced by the sea;
the minister spoke oftenest of Peter and his fishermen companions, and
prayed most earnestly every Sunday morning for those who go down to the
sea in ships. He made frequent allusions and drew numberless
illustrations of a similar kind for his sermons, and indeed I am in
doubt whether, if the Bible had been written wholly in inland countries,
it would have been much valued in Deephaven.

The singing was very droll, for there was a majority of old voices,
which had seen their best days long before, and the bass-viol was
excessively noticeable, and apt to be a little ahead of the time the
singers kept, while the violin lingered after. Somewhere on the other
side of the church we heard an acute voice which rose high above all the
rest of the congregation, sharp as a needle, and slightly cracked, with
a limitless supply of breath. It rose and fell gallantly, and clung long
to the high notes of Dundee. It was like the wail of the banshee, which
sounds clear to the fated hearer above all other noises. We afterward
became acquainted with the owner of this voice, and were surprised to
find her a meek widow, who was like a thin black beetle in her pathetic
cypress veil and big black bonnet. She looked as if she had forgotten
who she was, and spoke with an apologetic whine; but we heard she had a