VOLNEY, OSWEGO COUNTY, NEW YORK.
We are now suddenly introduced into a new country of heavy timber. The
people have settled near together, and yet so thick are the woods, and so
small the clearings, that nearly every family is alone, and cannot see out
in any direction but by looking up toward heaven, a habit they learned
before settling in these woods.
It is a Massachusetts colony from Lenox, Pittsfield, and Washington
Mountain. These people came here for two purposes: to "get land for their
children," and to "take the new country for God and Methodism." But the
last object was first, and ever held its rank.
As you call around upon these detached families you find them thoughtful,
intelligent, and decidedly religious; although each family is alone in the
woods, they are not very lonesome, for familiar sounds reach them almost
every hour of the day. The deep-sounding cow bells, the dinner horns, the
ring of the ax, and the thunder of the falling tree keep them in happy
remembrance of their brethren and of their diligence and success, and often
wake the anticipation of the coming Sabbath, when they will blend their
songs and prayers around the mercy seat.
And now the longed-for Sunday morning has dawned. The woodman's ax lies
still, the dinner horn hangs upon its peg, and no treefall breaks the
sacred silence. The half-burned "backlog" is buried in ashes on the broad
stone hearth, and the door of each log cabin is simply shut--it needs no
lock--and from every direction all the people are seen approaching a large
log dwelling in a small clearing of central situation. It is the newest
house in the settlement, as its occupants have been here only a few weeks.
But they are well known in the colony, and have cordially "opened their
doors" and "provided for the meetings."
Joshua and Elizabeth Arnold are once more in their much-loved relation to
Methodism, the master and mistress of the "cottage chapel." And now, as the
meeting hour draws nigh, you see the people entering this little clearing
by two or three footpaths and two highways, a few in wagons and sleds drawn
by oxen, but mostly on foot. They are plainly but neatly clad, and every
requisite of becoming Sabbath decorum is plainly to be seen in both adults
and children, and even in young men and misses. The family chairs are
occupied by the aged and the ailing, while most of the people sit upon
benches without backs. The singing is superior, both in the structure of
the tunes and the fullness and sweetness of voice of most of the singers.
Such tunes as China, Mear, Northfield, Windham, Exhortation, etc., set to
our most solid hymns and sung with the understanding and in the spirit,
have never been excelled, and probably will not be in this world. The
preaching also is excellent, and the hearing corresponds. Tears are
abundant, and responses neither scant nor misplaced, and impressions deep.
At the close of the public service nearly all "remain for class meeting."
The speaking is clear, direct, and candid; the singing spontaneous, brief,
and spirited. When the class meeting closes, hand-shaking and shouts close
the scene, and most of the people return immediately home.
No tobacco smoke has polluted the air of the place. No gossip or worldly
talk has profaned the sacred day. Such as by distance, feebleness, or any
other cause would be likely to fail of coming back to the late afternoon or
evening meeting are led, if possible, to remain and eat with the family.
From half a dozen to a dozen usually accept of the cordial invitation, and
find a strong evangelical influence in the very atmosphere of this place of
worship.
At the closing meeting in the latter part of the day some fruit usually
appears from the personal labors bestowed upon guests between meetings;
thus putting the divine seal upon the hospitality and influence of the
cottage chapel.
The picture of this day is substantially the description of the Sabbaths of
years at this meeting place.