The Old Peabody Pew: A Christmas Romance of a Country Church
To a certain handful of dear New England women of names unknown to
the world, dwelling in a certain quiet village, alike unknown:-
We have worked together to make our little corner of the great
universe a pleasanter place in which to live, and so we know, not
only one another's names, but something of one another's joys and
sorrows, cares and burdens, economies, hopes, and anxieties.
We all remember the dusty uphill road that leads to the green
church common. We remember the white spire pointing upward against
a background of blue sky and feathery elms. We remember the sound
of the bell that falls on the Sabbath morning stillness, calling us
across the daisy-sprinkled meadows of June, the golden hayfields of
July, or the dazzling whiteness and deep snowdrifts of December
days. The little cabinet-organ that plays the doxology, the hymn-
books from which we sing "Praise God from whom all blessings flow,"
the sweet freshness of the old meeting-house, within and without--
how we have toiled to secure and preserve these humble mercies for
ourselves and our children!
There really IS a Dorcas Society, as you and I well know, and one