s and differently directed force are
needed to extract the diamond from the earth, from the implements and
force needed to polish and cut the same diamond. So different phases of
religious development are called forth by progressive phases of
development. It has been said about the New England conscience: "It
fostered a condition of life and type of character doubtless never again
possible in the world's history. Having done its work, having founded
soundly and peopled strongly an exceptional region, the New England
conscience had no further necessity for being. Those whom it now
tortures with its hot pincers of doubt and self-reproach are sacrificed
to a cause long since won."

The Puritans themselves grew away from many of their excessive
severities. But as they gained bodily strength from their conflict with
the elements, so they gained a certain moral stamina by their
self-imposed religious observance. And this moral stamina has marked New
England ever since, and marked her to her glory.

One cannot speak of Hingham churches--indeed, one cannot speak of
Hingham--without admiring mention of the New North Church. This
building, of exquisite proportions and finish, within and without, built
by Bulfinch in 1806, is one of the most flawless examples of its type on
the South Shore. You will appreciate the cream-colored paint, the buff
walls, the quaint box pews of oiled wood, with handrails gleaming from
the touch of many generations, with wooden buttons and protruding hinges
proclaiming an ancient fashion; but the unique feature of the New North
Church is its slave galleries. These two small galleries, between the
roof and the choir loft, held for thirty years, in diminishing numbers,
negroes and Indians. The last occupant was a black Lucretia, who, after
being freed, was invited to sit downstairs with her master and mistress,
which she did, and which she continued to do until her death, not so
very long ago.

Hingham, its Main Street--alas for the original name of "Bachelors
Rowe"--arched by a double row of superb elms on either side, is
incalculably rich in old houses, old traditions, old families. Even
motoring through, too quickly as motorists must, one cannot help being
struck by the substantial dignity of the place, by the well-kept
prosperity of the houses, large and small, which fringe the fine old
highway. Ever since the days when the three Misses Barker kept loyal to
George IV, claiming the King as their lie