from our town, who piously bestowed the bell on the meeting-house where
he had been a worshipper for half a century. The good man had his
reward. By a strange coincidence, the very first duty of the sexton,
after the bell had been hoisted into the belfry, was to toll the funeral
knell of the donor. Soon, however, those doleful echoes were drowned by
a triumphant peal for the surrender of Quebec.

Ever since that period, our hero has occupied the same elevated station,
and has put in his word on all matters of public importance, civil,
military, or religious. On the day when Independence was first
proclaimed in the street beneath, he uttered a peal which many deemed
ominous and fearful, rather than triumphant. But he has told the same
story these sixty years, and none mistake his meaning now. When
Washington, in the fulness of his glory, rode through our flower-strewn
streets, this was the tongue that bade the Father of his Country welcome!
Again the same voice was heard, when La Fayette came to gather in his
half-century's harvest of gratitude. Meantime, vast changes have been
going on below. His voice, which once floated over a little provincial
seaport, is now reverberated between brick edifices, and strikes the ear
amid the buzz and tumult of a city. On the Sabbaths of olden time, the
summons of the bell was obeyed by a picturesque and varied throng;
stately gentlemen in purple velvet coats, embroidered waistcoats, white
wigs, and gold-laced hats, stepping with grave courtesy beside ladies in
flowered satin gowns, and hoop-petticoats of majestic circumference;
while behind followed a liveried slave or bondsman, bearing the psalm-
book, and a stove for his mistress's feet. The commonalty, clad in
homely garb, gave precedence to their betters at the door of the
meetinghouse, as if admitting that there were distinctions between them,
even in the sight of God. Yet, as their coffins were borne one after
another through the street, the bell has tolled a requiem for all alike.