Memoirs of John Adams Dix; comp. by his son, Morgan Dix.

1798-1821.] GLANCES AT MY NATIVE VILLAGE.

15

me; it said to me more distinctly than any words could have
done: " I am satisfied-you will not be found wanting in trying emergencies." I have often thought, if some wild beast
had come out upon us, as I expected, how poor a match I
should have been for it, with my slender fowling-piece and
the small shot with which it was charged. Relieved by my
father's explanations from all apprehension of any such unequal adversaries, I now lived, in fair weather, in the woods,
pursuing my studies at home only on rainy days. In a few
months my cheeks had become ruddy again and my constitution invigorated with fresh strength.
The period was approaching when I was to be sent away
from home for my classical education; but, before I enter
upon it, let me cast back some glances at my native village.
I have spoken of the meeting-house at one of its extremities.
The society was Congregational in its form. It acknowledged
no earthly head. I had a distinct idea of this peculiarity in its
doctrine from the conversations which I heard at my father's
house. My mother was a sincere, devout, and trustful Christian. My father was a believer, but not a member of the
Church. I sometimes thought his views did not accord with
those of the preacher; but he said nothing to warrant such
an inference. No man was more regular than himself in his
attendance on divine worship on Sundays, and they were the,
only days in the year on which any religious exercises were
observed, except the first Monday of every month, on which
evening a prayer-meeting was held. I derived no agreeable
impression whatever from these religious observances. The
meeting-house was, like most others at that day, painted white,
covered with shingles, full of windows, with plain, plastered
walls inside; it was cold and dreary in its aspect within and
without. It had no window-blinds; and as the sun moved
round the building in summer the congregation moved about
in their pews, to escape from his burning rays. The winters
were awful: the thermometer often fell twenty or thirty degrees below zero. There was no fireplace or furnace, not even