Well—Religion they say has grown too scant a robe for human reason. Through its rents is seen the glorious nakedness of science; yet surely the strongest of us must feel a tender reverence for the faith typified by such a church as this. The home of simple faith, where simple folk found peace.
In sect this Church was one of those independent bodies of which there are so many in America, which having retained the severe rectitude of the Puritans are yet leavened with evangelical tenderness, and vivified by evangelical zeal. It approximated perhaps more closely to the Congregational Body than any other, and was self-governing and self-sustaining. As the Chicago people date everything from “The Fire” so Dole people dated all their reminiscences from the “Opening” of the “Church,” which meant the dedication of the present church, which, in old Mr. Lansing’s boyhood, had replaced the humbler log building of earlier days. The minister was chosen for life, and was by far the most important personage of the community. No one disputed his pre-eminence, and public opinion was moulded by his mind. The ministers tilled their gardens, lived simply as their fellows, and beyond a black coat on Sunday, wore no insignia of office; yet that office wrapped them in a mantle of distinction. There was no laughing at holy things in Dole. No Dole children heard the minister and his sermons criticized. The shadow of the great Unseen rested above the humble church and hallowed it.
Mr. Didymus was an old, old man, and his white-headed wife was bowed and frail. The death of their only daughter, Martha, had been a bitter blow. Outwardly they strove to manifest the resignation of God’s anointed. At night when they sat alone they held each other’s hands, and wept over the bits of needlework the girl had left.
Deacon Simpson was a stern and upright man. No one recognised more clearly than he, that his son Len was no fit mate for brown-haired Martha Didymus. And yet, he loved his boy.
The two young people accepted the judgment upon them. Len’s sullen acceptance of the inevitable was broken by fits of hot-headed rebellion against the decorum of the community, which evidently regarded this bitter dispensation as his just due, yet he never gave up hope until pale Martha Didymus told him to go his way. Then indeed he departed upon his solitary road, and an evil one it seemed to village eyes.