Amid the tombstones stood
the congregation, all in black and staring steadfastly at the
mysterious stranger, while over the door a plaintive little bell
creaked and clanged.
We entered the little church and I shall never forget my surprise. It was
the year 1914 without; it became the year 1514 (or perhaps some centuries
earlier still) within. On one side two minute windows pierced a wall
quite four feet thick. The other wall was broken only by a great empty
niche whence an image once adored had vanished. It is true there were now
pews, but they were not of yesterday--square boxes where people sat and
faced in four directions, and the odour of damp bibles smelt prehistoric.
The bell ceased clanging, the people trooped in and filled the boxes, and
presently there uprose in the pulpit a grim venerable man in black. By
this time my better feelings were under control and I studied this figure
critically. He represented one of those four "civilised" and suspect
houses. One was untenanted, two I had now visited, and the fourth I was
now almost ready to discharge with a cleared character. Outwardly at
least this sedate divine suggested nothing but the austerer virtues.
For two hours the minister prayed, the minister read and the minister
preached to us; at intervals we were allowed to sing, and abused the
privilege shockingly; and all the time I studied that congregation.
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