Meeting-House. This faces a grassy common where six roads meet, as if the
early settlers had determined that no one should lack salvation because of a
difficulty in reaching its visible source.

The old church has had a dignified and fruitful past, dating from that day in
1761 when young Paul Coffin received his call to preach at a stipend of fifty
pounds sterling a year; answering "that never having heard of any Uneasiness
among the people about his Doctrine or manner of life, he declared himself
pleased to Settle as Soon as might be Judged Convenient."

But that was a hundred and fifty years ago, and much has happened since those
simple, strenuous old days. The chastening hand of time has been laid somewhat
heavily on the town as well as on the church. Some of her sons have marched to
the wars and died on the field of honor; some, seeking better fortunes, have
gone westward; others, wearying of village life, the rocky soil, and rigors of
farm-work, have become entangled in the noise and competition, the rush and
strife, of cities. When the sexton rings the bell nowadays, on a Sunday
morning, it seems to have lost some of its old-time militant strength,
something of its hope and courage; but it still rings, and although the Davids
and Solomons, the Matthews, Marks, and Pauls of former congregations have left
few descendants to perpetuate their labors, it will go on ringing as long as
there is a Tabitha, a Dorcas, a Lois, or a Eunice left in the community.

This sentiment had been maintained for a quarter of a century, but it was now
especially strong, as the old Tory Hill Meeting-House had been undergoing for
several years more or less extensive repairs. In point of fact, the still
stronger word, "improvements," might be used with impunity; though whenever
the Dorcas Society, being female, and therefore possessed of notions regarding
comfort and beauty, suggested any serious changes, the finance committees,
which were inevitably male in their composition, generally disapproved of