I decided that meetin’s were not a successful form of entertainment.  Indeed, Sunday was for me a lost day.  It was filled with shaving and washing and reading and an overwhelming silence.  Uncle Peabody always shaved after breakfast and then he would sit down to read the St. Lawrence Republican.  Both occupations deprived him utterly of his usefulness as an uncle.  I remember that I regarded the razor and the Republican as my worst enemies.  The Republican earned my keenest dislike, for it always put my uncle to sleep and presently he would stretch out on the lounge and begin to puff and snore and then Aunt Deel always went around on her tiptoes and said sh-h-h!  She spent the greater part of the forenoon in her room washing and changing her clothes and reading the Bible.  How loudly the clock ticked that day!  How defiantly the cock crew!  It seemed as if he were making special efforts to start up the life of the farm.  How shrill were the tree crickets!  Often Shep and I would steal off into the back lot trying to scare up a squirrel and I would look longingly down the valley, and could dimly see the roofs of houses where there were other children.  I would gladly have made friends with the Wills boy, but he would have nothing to do with me, and soon his people moved away.  My uncle said that Mr. Grimshaw had foreclosed their mortgage.

The fields were so still that I wondered if the grass grew on Sunday.  The laws of God and nature seemed to be in conflict, for our livers got out of order and some one of us always had a headache in the afternoon.  It was apt to be Uncle Peabody, as I had reason to know, for I always begged him to go in swimmin’ with me in the afternoon.

It was a beautiful summer morning as we drove down the hills and from the summit of the last high ridge we could see the smoke of a steamer looming over the St. Lawrence and the big buildings of Canton on the distant flats below us.  My heart beat fast when I reflected that I should soon see Mr. Wright and the Dunkelbergs.  I had lost a little of my interest in Sally.  Still I felt sure that when she saw my new breeches she would conclude that I was a person not to be trifled with.

When we got to Canton people were flocking to the big stone Presbyterian Church.  We drove our horses under the shed of the tavern and Uncle Peabody brought them water from the pump and fed them, out of our own bag under the buggy seat, before we went to the church.

It was what they called a “deacon meeting.”  I remember that Mr. Wright read from the Scriptures, and having explained that there was no minister in the village, read one of Mr. Edwards’ sermons, in the course of which I went to sleep on the arm of my aunt.  She awoke me when the service had ended, and whispered: 

“Come, we’re goin’ down to speak to Mr. Wright.”

We saw Mr. and Mrs. Horace Dunkelberg in the aisle, who said that they would wait for us outside the church.