Sad and strange was that disappointment which awaited the first emigrants to Massachusetts Bay.  But there was a divine mercy in it; they came to seek peace, but a sword awaited them.  I refer to the famous Anne Wheelright controversy, which rent the infant settlement of Boston for more than ten years.  The excitement extended through the entire colony, affording many a bitter and vindictive argument.  The pulpit belabored it in sermons of two hours’ length, after which the deacons in their official seats occasionally expatiated to audiences whose patience on this theme was inexhaustible.  As the controversy waxed hot, it got into the hands of the civil authorities, and some of its disputants were thrust into jail as heretical.  Anna Wheelright was a woman of great mental vigor, and could hold her own in a debate with her reverend disputants.  Unfortunate as this controversy may appear, it proved a benefit, by sharpening the public mind to a prodigious degree.  Indeed, the very children of Boston could define the terms of the covenant of grace.  Weary of a controversy bordering on persecution, Anne Wheelright sought a new home in the wilderness, and was subsequently murdered by the Indians.  But the force of mental exercise which she had put in motion still continued.  It is worthy of remark that almost the only intellectual peculiarity to which Franklin refers, in speaking of his father, is ‘a turn for polemics.’  The great features of New England character were, at that day, opinion and faith.  It was these, as boldly and defiantly expressed, which excited the fears and jealousy of Charles the Second, and instigated the deprival of the colonial charters.

The studious and prayerful habits of the clergy continued from generation to generation, and their piety was most tender and touching in their ministrations.  We might dwell, had we time, on the Cottons, the Mitchells, and the Sheppards, but, revered above all others, comes before us the venerable form of John Elliott, the missionary, clad in homespun apparel, his face shining with inward peace, while his silver locks overhang his shoulders.  He was the Nestor of divines, and the character of his labors might be judged from his motto—­’ Prayers and pains with faith in Christ Jesus can accomplish anything.’  His efforts and successes amongst the Indians were remarkable, and it was commonly reported that he possessed the gift of prophecy.  But he was not the only man of that day who dwelt so close to the confines of the spiritual world as to be alternately visited by angels and devils.  Indeed, what tales of the supernatural Mather relates, what a juxtaposition of saints and demons!  Of course, there was a foundation to build upon,—­had not Mather himself in his family for more than a year a possessed girl, whose familiar haunted the house and made it ring at times like a bedlam?  It was a peculiar characteristic in this chapter of diablerie, that when the Scriptures were being read, or prayers attended, the spasms became terrific; but when any ungodly book was substituted in place of the Bible, there was an immediate relief.