In answer
to the question, "What church is this?" one of these grave men said,
with a good broad Scotch accent, "It's a Presbyterian church." The
accent gave a double confirmation to the answer. "Is it Mr. Plummer's
church?" I continued. With the same accent, and in a tone of gentle
rebuke, I was told, "Yes, it is _Doctor_ Plummer's." We entered. The
congregation were assembling. We were left either to stand in the aisle
or to take a seat as we pleased. We preferred the latter. The building
was new, but built in the old Gothic style. The pews, the pulpit, the
front of the gallery, the organ, and the framework of the roof, which
was all exposed, were of oak, which had been made to resemble in colour
wood that has stood the test of 400 or 500 years. The windows also were
darkened. The whole affair was tremendously heavy, enough to mesmerize
any one. The congregation was large, respectable, and decorous. After a
few glances around, to see if there was a negro pew anywhere, I
observed several coloured faces peeping from a recess in the gallery,
on the left side of the organ,--there was the "Negro Pew," In due time
_Doctor_ Plummer ascended the pulpit.
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