ove, and basking in the
sunlight of her eyes, nor to stop an elderly man from nestling
peacefully under the wing of his spouse; but it is understood that
they will not do this, and will at least submit to a deed of
separation during hours of worship. In addition to the 70 actual
members of the society there are about 60 persons in Preston who pay
a sort of nominal homage at the shrine of George Fox.
They have two meetings every Sunday, morning and evening, and one
every Thursday--at half-past ten in the morning during winter
months, and at seven in the evening in summer. The average
attendance at each of the Sunday meetings is about 70. The character
of the services is quite unsettled. Throughout Christendom the rule
in religious edifices is to have a preliminary service, and then a
discourse; in Quaker meeting houses there is no such defined course
of action. Sometimes there is a prayer, then another, then an
"exhortation"--Quakers have no sermons; at other times an
exhortation without any prayer; now and then a prayer without any
exhortation; and occasionally they have neither the one nor the
other--they fall into a state of profound silence, keep
astonishingly quiet ever so long, with their eyes shut, and then
walk out. This is called silent meditation. If a pin drops whilst
this is going on you can hear it and tell in which part of the house
it is lying. You can feel the quietude, see the stillness; it is
"tranquil and herd-like--as in the pasture--'forty feeding like
one;'" it is sadly serene, placidly mysterous, like the
"uncommunicating muteness of fishes;" and you wonder how it is kept
up. To those who believe in solemn reticence--in motionless
communion with the "inner light,"--there is nothing curious in this;
it is, in fact, often a source of high spiritual ecstacy; but to an
unitiated spectator the business looks seriously funny, and its
continuance for any length of time causes the mind of such a one to
run in all kinds of dreadfully ludicrous grooves.
Quakers don't believe in singing, and have no faith in sacred music
of any kind. Neither the harp, nor the sackbut, nor the psaltery,
nor the dulcimer will they have; neither organs nor bass fiddles
will they countenance; neither vocalists nor instrumentalists, nor
tune forks of any size or weight, will they patronise. They permit
one another to enter and remain in their meeting house with the hat
on or off, and with the hands either in the pockets or ou
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