deal pews and pulpit, contains a closely-packed congregation, as
different in dress, as they are opposed in manner, to that we have
just quitted. The hymn is sung--not by paid singers, but by the
whole assembly at the loudest pitch of their voices, unaccompanied
by any musical instrument, the words being given out, two lines at
a time, by the clerk. There is something in the sonorous quavering
of the harsh voices, in the lank and hollow faces of the men, and
the sour solemnity of the women, which bespeaks this a strong-hold
of intolerant zeal and ignorant enthusiasm. The preacher enters
the pulpit. He is a coarse, hard-faced man of forbidding aspect,
clad in rusty black, and bearing in his hand a small plain Bible
from which he selects some passage for his text, while the hymn is
concluding. The congregation fall upon their knees, and are hushed
into profound stillness as he delivers an extempore prayer, in
which he calls upon the Sacred Founder of the Christian faith to
bless his ministry, in terms of disgusting and impious familiarity
not to be described. He begins his oration in a drawling tone, and
his hearers listen with silent attention. He grows warmer as he
proceeds with his subject, and his gesticulation becomes
proportionately violent. He clenches his fists, beats the book
upon the desk before him, and swings his arms wildly about his
head. The congregation murmur their acquiescence in his doctrines:
and a short groan, occasionally bears testimony to the moving
nature of his eloquence. Encouraged by these symptoms of approval,
and working himself up to a pitch of enthusiasm amounting almost to
frenzy, he denounces sabbath-breakers with the direst vengeance of
offended Heaven. He stretches his body half out of the pulpit,
thrusts forth his arms with frantic gestures, and blasphemously
calls upon The Deity to visit with eternal torments, those who turn
aside from the word, as interpreted and preached by--himself. A