^, t^ _-^_ DISCOURSE. Job, 8, 8. — " Enquire, I pray thee, of tlie former afre." We have met, to-day, my hearers, and dedicated this lioiise of worship. We have engaged in these interesting services with various emotions ; we are in a neio edifice. This pulpit, and these shps, and galleries, and windows, and walls and lamps are new; they have yet upon our minds all the charm of novelty — and, it is in the fresh light of this new scene, that I propose to contemplate the past. The old is always seen in the most vivid Hght, when in contrast with the new — and, by choosing this time and place to paint the past of this community, I have all the advantages of a striking light for my picture. In the sketch to be drawn, I would first direct the eye of my audience to the dim objects which lie in the dark and far oflf back-ground. Go back with me sixty-five years, to the period 1790, and im- agine yourselves standing upon the site of this village. Most of the tall forest trees on this spot, have been burnt down by the Indians. Here and there, stands one, spreading out its dead and blackened limbs — around is a thick undergrowth of oak saplings, and, scattered through these openings, appear a few Indian wigwams. In the place of roads, are some hard beaten paths, leading to the difierent dwellings. This is the site of Mt. Morris. As you look off to the norths as you turn to the rising ground on the iuest, as you face the south, you are met on each side by an unbroken forest; but, as you turn to the east, broad and beautiful bottom- lands are at your feet, as treeless, and shrubless then as at this day. "My father," says an early resident, "rode over these flats at that time, upon a large horse, and he remarked that the grass was so high ~^^^^;(^? V ^3S22^_ _^(?5^S 6 DISCOURSE. that lie could tie it over the neck of the animal." The truth of his statement will not be doubted by any who know the fertility of the land. Standing amidst tliis undergrowth of oak, with this plain stretching below at your feet, and the rising ground on the other sides, appearing one unbroken forest, turn your steps to the north ; following an Indian path, you cross a ravine, and draw near the edge of that bluft", where now, on the plain above, is the residence of Hon. George Hastings — and here, almost on the very site of his residence, (probably between his house and barn,) you find a long, log house, the residence of Ebenezer Allen. However uncouth the appearance of the dwelling, the owner has certainly shown an eye for the beautiful in the selection of this locality. If this man had lived to the present day, and retained a fortieth part of his land, his fortune would have been princely. A short time pi-evious to his residence here, Allen built a mill where Rochester now stands, and owned much of the site of that city. When residing here, a tract of four miles, embracing this village and country around, was liis property, Ebenezer Allen was a had man. He had courage, talent and energy, was remarkable for accomplishing his ends, knew how to please, and had great influence over the Indians ; but he was guilty of many crimes. His hands were stained with the blood of the innocent. As white settlements increased, "Indian Allen" fled from those whose vengeance he had provoked. His childi-en hold not a foot of his land, and the name which seemed destined always to live asso- ciated with these grounds, (called, as they were, "Allen's Hill,") has been dropped for another. The honor was taken from him who was a cui-se and a scourge to his race, and given to that great benefactor of his country, Robert Morris. In Allen's history it is verified that "the name of the wicked shall rot." "Though a sinner," says the wise man, "do evil an hundred times, and his days be prolonged, yet surely I know that it shall be well with them that fear God, who fear before him. But it shall not be well with the wicked, ^5e3^^-^" "^"-^^^^^bC^i .V^. DISCOURSE. "^ neith^T^ITi^i^d^l^days, which are as a shadow, because he feareth not before God." Let us travel from this residence of Allen, which combined a store, a tavern, and a harem, and pass a little farther to the north. Entering the woods, we ascend, and, in less than half a mile, reach a level. Turning to the right, we emerge from the forest, and stand upon the brow of a steep declivity— at our back is a dense forest— nov.' the grounds and residence of John R. ISIurray, Es(^., and adorned with the beauty which wealth and taste can give. But, before us, how magnificent the view ! Some hundred feet below, these broad and noble plains, as level as a lake, stretch off for miles to the north, and east, and south. At the right, and between high banks, enters the Genesee, and as this stream winds its way through the plain, shining afar off, in the sun, like a glittering ser- pent, It is met by the slow Canaseraga, coming in from the south, and these two streams, uniting their waters in the midst of this plain, move noiselessly on. But not through an unbroken solitude, for, in sight, are Indian villages. Across the river, to the left, not a mile from where it entere the plain, is Squaw hj Hill. On a little forthcr, where now stands Cuylerville, is Little Beard, snd still far- thei-. Big Tree— and then turning round to the south, is seen Allen's Hill Thus, the smoke is seen ascending from four Indian villages, and, at other points, are signs of human habitations. These natives of the forests have dwelt upon the bordei-s of this valley for ages; sometimes, in far greater numbers than at this period; so the large mounds which have been found, would indicate. Little is now left besides some old huts and mouldering bones to mark that such a people here dwelt, if we except some of those fine Indian names given to different localities and streams. These will never be elianged- God designs that this departed peo])le shall live in the minds of coming generations, by this homage paid to the rich melody of their language. Before we pass on from this scene of beauty and magnificence, let us ask, "Why has God spread out these scenes around usT' Why i^SP^' ^Ov^t^};, ,(♦) <; _^£S£S DISCOURSE. has be here moulded the eaiih iuto such glorioite forms, and clothed those forms with such magnificent drapery ? Is it that those who dwell among these beauties shall have an e3'e merely to the utility of the land, thinking only of the grain it will produce, or the price it will bring? Is it noi that these works may speak of Him? Are not these His thoughts ? Do they not sing His praise ? Is there not in this silence and repose, a strain, loud, majestic, holy, and, one never to cease, till " the earth, and the works therein, shall be burned up." A woik of art — a temple, like this, within whose walls we meet, speaks of God, but, there is no monument of man's skill and power that can so bi'ing a ])\o\\s soul into the presence of the Deity, as can these magnificent forms in the great temple of Nature. Passing on from this scene, let us move ferthei- to the north, de- scend from the heights, enter the valley, cross the river, and turn to the west. We are in a dense forest, atid are ascending the river on the north side — the stream runs through perpendicular clifts, which grow higher for two or three miles as we ascend — the scene, all along, increasing in grandeur and beauty. We look, now and then, from the dizzy heights and see the river, like a small creek, moving slowly on — the trees upon the opposite shore are seen as bushes. Yon throw a stone that you think will reach them, and it seems to turn in and hide itself under the bank at your feet. It reminds you of the great English bai'd's description of Dover clifts : * • * " How feftrfiil And dizzy 'tis to cast one's eyes so low ! The crows and daws that wing the ilrkl-way air, Show scarce so gross as beetles. * * e '} The fishermen that walk npon the Leftch, Appear liUe mice ; * * * * The murmuring siirp:e Tiiat on the nnnnmbered idle pebb)ts chafes, Cannot be heard so high." We fi;'.low along these banks, tAvo or three miles farther, and reach a point where they suddenly recede from the river, leaving a spot of rich bottom-land below. The Indians name this, Gardeau. It is the home of the " White Woman," This remarkable pei-son is before you. She has light hair, fair complexion, regular features, and a fonn little below the medium size, symmetrical and indicating much ll^zyP^ ^"■^^Gr^: tr->-_. .^.^x^i^'k discoursp:. strength and power of endurance. Ten years previous to this, in the fall of the year, she had come from Ohio on foot, with an infant on her back, proving what the women of her own race can endure, with the physical training of the Indians, The army of Sullivan had just before driven the Indians from the country, and destroyed their crops. This little spot called Gardeau was overlooked — -here alone, could she find food. And, was it not chiefly for her, that this spot was spared ? She was a chosen vessel — 'Ordained to life, and God remembers His hidden ones. Let us glance at her histoir, as it strikingly illustrates a law in the kingdom of grace. She was born upon the ocean. Her pa- rents came to this country from England, in 1742, and settled in the beautiful valley of Wyoming, in Pennsylvania. At ten yeare of age, she was captured by the Indians, and forever separated from her friends. Her mother was pemiitted to speak a parting word. " Do not," says that mother, " forget yom- own language, and never fail to repeat your catechism and the Lord's prayer, every morning and evening while you live." This she promised to do — she then kissed her mother, and they parted foi'ever. The seed sown was buried deep in the heart of that child, but not destroyed. For a time, she remembered the promise made to her mother, but, after a while, forgot it, and became in all her habits, an Indian. Years rolled on, and she returned from the west, and again met those of her own race who sought to instruct her in the Christian faith — but, to no purpose. Her mind seemed not at all disposed to receive the truth. " The Indians' religion," said she, "is good enough for me, and I desire no chanfje." She left Gardeau, and settled with her adopted people on the Buftalo reservation, and there, one morn- ing, when at the age of ninetij years, she sent a messenger to the missionaries, asking them to visit her. "Oh," says she to them, "I have forgotten liow to pray. My mother taught me, and told me to remember this, though I should forget all things else" — and then she exclaimed, "Oh, God, have mercy upon me I" The divine truth which her mother had taught her, had been buried in her heart for eighty years — it had stood the shock of an hundred calamities — (^ \Ci "%•' ^?<5€' 9^b^ ■^-^-tfCr^i c7 10 DISCOURSE. it had lived amid tlie chills and darkness of a pagan faith. Eighty yeai-s had rolled away since her mother breathed the last prayer over her — and, now, a still, small voice of the Spirit comes again, and she repeats the prayei', '' Our Father which art in heaven.'' As she prayed, a now light overs}>read her feature>i, copious tears were shed, and her pag.ui associates who stood around, wept in sympathy, at her new found joy. What an encouraging lesson is this! How plainly it is here taught that " Tlioufrli seed lie buried lonp; in dust, It sha'n't deceive the hope ; The precious grain shall ne'er be lost, For grace ensures the crop." We will now slowly lea\-e the distance and approach the middle- gronnd of our picture. Seven years have passed away, and the site of our village has but little changed. We will now take another direction. We descend into the valley, move eastward, turn to the north, and have reached the point now known as the half-way house between Geneseo and Mt. Morris. We have traveled three miles, and, if in the fall of the year, over a road far different from the present one. And, Avhat is here ? A wilderness ? or, a farm just beginning to be reclaimed from the for- est ? We might infer this to be the condition of this quiet spot, sixty yeai-s ago. But, no. Here is the site of Williamsburg — here are two stores, a large tavern, and about thirty houses. Here a Presbyterian church has been organized. When, in the year 1 794, Wm. and James Wadsworth arrived in Geneseo, (then Big Tree,) Williamsburg was a village of two yeai-s groAvth. Half a century ago, this quiet spot was full of bustle and acti-^ity. Hei'e, each year, persons would as- semble from all these border-lands, to attend the great fair and horse race. Now, how changed ! Little did Mr. Williamson, that enter- prising Scotchman, anticipate that his thriving village was so soon to become extinct — that, gradually, the inhabitants would scatter, the houses disappeai', and e\"ery vestig-e that a village had there stood, be removed. As }ou now pass by the spot, on a plank road, (a reaUty^ not among the dreams of our fathers,) you see, a little to the east, a '~^^(l€\ \c^ i^9V_. 'G^ll-^ DISCOURSE. 11 grave-yard thickly studded with stones. There sleeps a village, Williamsburg was once the largest village for thirty miles around. The ardent Mr. Williamson painted the future of this country with glowing enthasiasm. He said, in a letter to his friends, "The pro- gress of settlement is so rapid, that you and myself may very probably see the day when we can apply these lines to the Genesee country : " Here happy millions their own lands possess. No tji'uiic awes them, nor no lords oppress." "Many times," he writes, "did I break out in an enthusiastic frenzy, anticipating the probable situation of this wilderness, twenty years hence. All that reason can ask, may bo obtained by the indus- trious hand ; the only danger to be feared, is, that luxuries will flow too cheap." And, to show what these expectations were, when brought out, more in detail, hear another extract from the same letter : " On this Genesee river, a great many farms are laying out ; sixty-five miles from its mouth, is a town marked out by the name of Williamsburg, and will, in all probability, be a place of much trade ; in the present situation of things, it is remote, when consid- ered in a commercial point of view ; but, should the fort of Oswego be given up, and the lock navigation be completed, there ivill not be a carrying place between New York and Williamsburg.^' The organization of a Presbyterian church at this settlement, was mentioned. Little more is known to the speaker than the fact, and that the Rev, Mr, Thatcher was the minister, and that the name of one elder was John Ewart, In the year 1V97, the Rev. Samuel Mills came to Williamsburg — formerly a Presbyterian minister, but then belonging to the Bap- tist denomination. He delivered the first sermon that was ever preached in Mt. Morris. He resided many years in these parts, de- voting much of his time to preaching in different localities. His son. Gen. Wm. A. Mills, came the year after, in '98, to Mt. Morris. It was literally coming to live among the Indians, whose language he soon acquired, and spoke with quite as much fluency as his own. The log dwelling which he erected, and which was for many yeai-s his home, stood upon a beautiful site, commanding a noble view of the valley, now the residence of his son, Samuel J. Mills, Esq. /<*; m^t^^p^' "-^s^^? i^>9V^ _-,.<:Ki€i 12 DISCOURSE. For the first ten or fifteen years of the settlement of Mt. Morris, there were but very few who took up their residence here. I find among those wlio came before the year 1810, the names of Mills, Satterlee, Baldwin, Solomon, Eaton, Wilson, Demon, Houselander, Holland, Stanley and Chappell. One or two of these are still among the living — but most, are not. Some of my hearers knew all these pei-sons, and, most who are present, recognize these names as belong- ing to families that still reside among us. Let us come forward to the picture of Mt. Morris in 1813. "We will enter on what is now the plank road across the flats. Ascend- ing the hill, we pass what is now Beach's Temperance House. There stands the frame dwelling of widow Baldwin — on the corner opposite, towards the north, is the frame dwelling of Capt. Baldwin — going a little farther, we are near the frame residence of deacon Jesse Stanley, now the site of the residence of James R. Bond, Es<|. In reaching this point, we pass the school-house, a few rods to the left — that building which is so plainly pictured to the minds of some of this audience — around which so many associations of early days cluster. Its unpainted and mutilated seats, and dingy walls, bring with them pleasing thoughts, for they are fresh, strong impressions of early days. This building is not seen from the road, for, though we stand in front of what is known as Dean's brick store, and look no farther than what was lately the law office of R. P. Wisner, Esq., yet the oak bushes and saplings completely conceal it from view. A little farther on, and we are opposite the site of this church building. On the other side of the road stands the old block-house, into which all the inhabitants fled, on one occasion, the year before, for fear of a coming army of British and Indians. A few rods farther, and on the north side of the road, is the frame dwelling of Mark Hopkins, Esq., on the site of the residence of the late David A. Miller, Esq. We ascend, and from Prospect Hill look over the village, and we can count the four framed dwellings just mentioned, and no more. These, with twenty-two log houses, constitute the Mt. Morris of 1813. The eye can rest upon two streets — the one we have passed over, coming from the Viilley, passi ng the site of this church edifice, turn- ing to the left, and winding np the hill towards Nunda, and the U>Ni i^9V_. DISCOURSE. other running through the place noilh and south, being what is now Main street. These two streets, or roads, the sides of which are well lined with oak shrubs and sajiling-s, are the only streets of the village. Here is now and then a remaining tree of the forest, and plenty of undergrowth. On every side, except that of the valley, is a dark forest, the impressions upon which, by the woodman's axe, are, as yet, hardly perceptible. Going towaids Nunda, we pass through an unbroken forest for three and a half miles — we then reach a solitaiy dwelling — that of Mr. Houselander — and for six miles beyond that (where now is a succession of fine farms, with their neatly painted dwellings,) is an unbroken forest. I next briefly notice the sickness of Mt. Morris, in its early settle- ment. There is a class of diseases peculiar to new localities. The breakino- up of a vii-giu soil, and the clearing away of woods, sets free certain gases which are prejudicial to health — a soil like that of this rich valley, could not be disturbed from its long repose, without ' throwing upon the atmosphere much that was unfriendly to life — and, if these early settlei-s found Mt. Morris a spot to be marked for its fertility and beauty, they found it, also, a place to to be remembered for its fevers. The turning up the soil, and clear- ing away the forest, wej-e not the only causes of sickness. On the edge of the valley that borders our village was a strip of low, marshy gi'ound. Those who lived here thirty years ago, well remember it as being bridged by a corduroy road. The diaining of this wet land by the mill-race, cut from the river to the Canaseraga, has operated, with other causes, to promote the health of the village. There was a fever common to this region, known as the Genesee fever, which prevented the rapid immigration there would other- wise have been. Nearly all the first settlers were attacked, and many fell as its victims. The disease generally took a severe hold at first, assuming afterwards a slow, typhoid form, and, often, when there was a recovery, leaving the constitution permanently impaired. In this is explained why so very few of the early settlei^s are now found among us. 14 DISCOURSE. _/cf^QC( Father Hudson, who was a Methodist circuit preacher in this region, in an early day, speaks, in his autobiography, of an epidemic that raged in Geneseo in 1812, and mentions tliat Mt. Morris largely shared in its ravages, and tliat he was frequently called here to attend funei'als. "My recollections," he says, "of those times and events, are naturally associated with the names of deacons Stanley and Beach, who, together with Col. Hopkins and Gen. Mills, were always forward and ready to render assistance in all cases of distress and emei'gency." At latur periods, epidemics have raged with great power. Many stones in our grave-yard are marked with the date of 1817— a me- morable year— one that brought sorrow into many a dwellino-.— Hardly a family in the place escaped sickness--and, one family, (a member of which told me of the ravages of the disease,) lost four of its members. The year 1826 is noted for the prevalence of a destructive dysentery. The mortality was principally among children. Dr. Lyman was then pastor of the Presbyterian church— his venerable widow who now lives among us, said to me, "I well recollect counting up, at tlie time, how many funerals my husband attended within two weeks. There were twenty, mostly of children." I can say, in contrast with this fact thus given, that in the four years I have resided in Mt. Morris, I have not attended the funeivals of twenty children. Few places can be found more free from sickness than this has been for the last few years. We come now to speak of the early religious character of Mt. Morris. Until the year 1814 there was no religious society in the place. Deacon Jesse Stanley, who came about 1809, in writing to his friends in Connecticut, said that he thanked the Lord that he had found one man in Mt. Morris who loved his Savior. He referred to Mr. Chappell, the father of Mrs. Deacon Weeks. Soon aftei- this, going to Connecticut for his family and returning, he had to write that that one man was dead, and that he was left alone. About this time Mrs. Duncan, a pious Methodist woman, died, and no one could be found to offer prayer at the funeral. Such incidents help ^^^ """^^'dsm k\ iX^»P.^ J^^l ^\\ DISCOURSE. 15 to show what trials Christians who came in had to meet, a.s well as to reveal the moral condition of the place. The two prevailing sins of those days were intemperance and sab- bath-breaking. Not long after this time the smoke of five dis- tilleries might be seen ascending from this town, and most of them in sight of the village — and, be it remembered, the population was very small compared with the present. Ardent spirits, in those days, if not the lai-gest article of consumption, was certainly the most important article of export. This was years before the great temperance reform, and good men engaged in the manufacture of, and traffic in, alcohol. The wonder is, not that so many were des- troyed by it, but that so many escaped. To the poor Indian it proved a scourge more destructive thnn the ])lague. How sad a picture to see an Indian with all the refinement of feeling and native politeness of "Tall Chief," bowing to the power of this destroj'er. There were some noble spirits among those Senecas — but rarely has one been found who could resist the power of this enemy. On the sabbath, white people would come from Moscow and other places around, and Indians from Squaw ky Hill would here congregate and spend this holy day in drinking, wrestling, shooting, horse-racing and the like. It is sad to mention that Mount Morris, in its moral condition, was not an exception to other new settlements in the valley. The character of other towns in this vicinity was much the same. The first Baptist minister who preached in Mt. Morri?;, was, (as has been mentioned,) Rev, Samuel Mills. The first Presbyterian minister, was the Rev. Robert Hubbard. The preachers who most frequently visited Mt. Morris, were from amons: the Methodists — amono- whom occur the names of Jesse Lee, and John B. Hudson. The Methodists are, in Christ's church, as the light-infantry of an army. They are in the fore ranks — moving in scouting bamls, and penetrating where the main body of the forces do not go. These soldiers battling for the Lord Avill follow close on to the footsteps of the hardy pioneer — are first to find men in the 'O to the solitary, and him who hath no helper. AdmimLle is the system, which the great Wesley, under God, devised to meet the Avants of the ..parse and scattered people of border lands. May this system never cease its efficacy, till the dark and benighted portions of the earth are filled with the glorious light of the gospel. Before 1810 a small Methodist class was formed in^this settlement, ^vh.ch soon disappeared from deaths, removals, and other causes, and yet, the place was visited at stated times by preachers of this order. must not, m this place, omit to mention an effl.rt made to evan- gehze the Indians. About the year 1813, Rev. Daniel D. Buttrick came to tlus section with a design of laboring a. a missionary among the LKhans near this village, if the way seemed opened. He made some efforts fur them, but, for some reason, soon al>andoned his plan and spent his days as a missionary among the Cherokees. In an effort to evangelize Indians, situated as these Senecas near this Village were, one had more than the vices of paganism to contend With .ALnghng, as they did, with the floating population of white people, attempts for their reform were most discouraging. It was in the year 1814 that the Presbyterian church^of Mt. Morris was organized. On the 29th of April of that year, the following fourteen mdn.duals n.et in the school house, and were formed into a church :-Jesse Stanley, Jonathan Beach, Luther Parker, Enos Bald- wm, Abraham Camp, Luman Stanley, Russel Sheldon, Almira p'f 'm ^•"^^""■^^' ^^■■-«- ^-•^-'•' Sarah Baldwin, Mary Camp, Pa ty- M Stanley, and Clarissa Sheldon^all of whom except the ^t wo have now gone to their long home. There was one who should not be forgotten, although not present at this organization. I speak of Susannah, the wife of Cxen. Mills. She wa.^for years .1 most the only christian in Mt. Morris-and, while finding so little christian sympathy, lived a devoted life. She was liberal in her views, had a heart f nil of charity, and is remembered by all as one ot marked and uniform piety. In the winter following the organization of this church, a revival ^^^l^^^^^^he^^ that occmred in this village. Rev. :9Q3'i Q\ DISCOURSE. 17 Mr. Wlieelock wjis their minister. He said tliat lie did not, at the time, anticipate the work, nor was he aware of the feehug there was in the community, until, one day, in passing by a hay stack, he overheard some voices in prayer. He stepped around, and there found some boys hokling a prayer meeting. It seemed that the spirit of God had been moving upon their hearts, and they had met together to pray. This sight encouraged his own heart, lie felt that the Lord had indeed visited them, and he engaged with greater earnestness in his work. The church received a comparatively large accession at that time — for about thirty persons were added, some of whom are still with us. The next re\ ival occurred about seven years after, under the ministry of Rev. Bartholomew F. Pratt, at which time about eighty persons united with the church. A fact to be remembered in this revival, is this : of a bible class of about forty members, all but four made a profession of religion. God will use His word as the instrumentality for saving men, and where persons can be induced to engage in a diligent study of that word, there is great reason to hope and beUeve that the fruits will appear in their salvation. As we follow along the history of this church, we find that there were other times of religious awakening. The next, of which I speak, was in 1833, while Rev. George Elliot was pastor. During this revival, meetings were held conjointly with the Methodists in their church, which had just been completed. It was in the year 1831 that the present society of the Methodist Episcopal church was organized and their present house of worship was completed the following year, at which time there was a powerful work of grace, before alluded to, which in its influence pervaded the whole commu- nity. At this time there were large accessions to the ISIethodist church and a number added to the Presbyterian, the only two chur- ches in the village. About this period, different causes were operating to produce im- provement in the place. As the fruits of these revivals, there was less intempei-ance, a belter observance of the sabbath, a larger attendance on the preaching of the word; and an increasing interest f rjiyp^ ■^""'^^i '<*5 ^d^QS^l ^\ DISCOURSE. in sabbath -scbools, in the cause of education, and the Hke. Then, also, Ihe village began to grow more rapidl}'. The cutting of the race gave milling privileges which had not before been possessed. The first rafill was erected the same year that the fii-st edifice of the Presbyterian church was completed — which was in the beginning of 1832. Eight years afterwards, the Genesee Valley canal was completed to Mt. Morris. It was between these two periods, mark- ed by an increase of business and j^opulation in the place, that the other churches were formed. The Protestant Episcopal church was organized in the spring of 1833, the Rev. Thomas Meacham presiding — the first wardens being Jesse Clute, Nehemiah Barlow and David A. Miller. The vestrymen were John W. Montross, W. M. Hinman, Phineas Canfield, Stephen Summers, C. B. Stout, James J, S. Heald, and Hiram Hunt. Six years after, in 1839, the Baptist society was constituted. Among its founders, I find the names of Dr. Ebenezer Childs, Ben- jamin Bills, Deacon John Burt, Henrj' Turner, Asahel Norton and Philo MUls. A few words concerning church edifices — and in this connection, I would speak of that school-house, for a long time the only public room for holding religious services. This allusion brings it to the minds of many of my hearers, as it stood forty years ago — with its unpainted seats, its swing partition, made to meet the double wants of school and church — its fire-place at each end, and its box pulpit in the middle. Allen Ayrault, William A. Mills and Jes- se Stanley assisted in putting seats in this school-house, for the purpose of holding meetings, about the year 1815. "They were constructed with high wooden backs, and they felt prouder," says the survivor, Hon. Allen Ayrault, "with the accommodations thus afforded, than many would on the completion of the most costly church edifice." The first Presbyterian church was dedicated January 1832. It stood where is now the orchard of Dr. Branch, back of his residence. Ten years aft,erwards it was removed a few rods to the south, front- ing State street, enlarged by an addition of twenty feet in length, f 'C- Q, 5^9b^ _.^. _.^tFCLq DISCOURSE. 21 of our lives. It tells us to "do with our might what ovir hands find to do." It proclaims that our days are passing as a dream of the night. The voice of the past ever is, act with energy. Where are those who forty years ago united in the formation of this church ? All but two have passed into eternity. One, who was summoned away the last year, often said that he only wished to live to see this day — but the messenger could not wait. And, how long before xve shall be called hence ? This building may stand — another audience may assemble within its walls — after the beating of each heart now here, has ceased forever. What a call for the improvement of the passing hour ! There are many here to-night, who were in this place at an early day. Your thoughts, my friends, have this hour been busy with the past. Memory has brought " The light of other days around you, The hopes, the fears of by-gone years, The words of love then spoken ; The eyes that shone, now dimmed and gone." How sad the remembrance — how mournful the retrospect ! " You feel like one who treads alone, Some banquet hall deserted. Whose lights are fled, whose garlands dead, And all but he, departed." God has given us the past that we may improve the present. He would that we be up and doing, working with our might, living for eternity. We are embarked upon life's stream — a stream, my dying hearers, which is rolling on, and bearing us to a country where time is not measured by years. How many, as we have floated down the resistless current of the river, have disappeared by our side — we are following them, going to the same shore — with us the stream is widening, and soon the watei-s will become more rough and the winds will rise, revealing that our barks are nearing the wide and deep waters. Soon, in the twilight, forms will grow shadowy, the roar of coming waves will be heard, our barks will be gone, and we shall float out into the dai-k and boundless sea. ~"^^;C^? "inr >ey jgo/ ' I T ■ik LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 014 224 112 2 wum^