The early colonists of the Cape were a plain but very pious people and in view of the hardships they endured in the building of a new land it was little wonder that they turned to their God for help, and in Thanksgiving for His bounty in the new surroundings. In many cases they built their churches before they had built their homes and they used them. Someone who visited the Cape remarked that “there are too many churches for any of them to prosper”, but, at one time or another each of them was filled to the rafters. The settlers came to church out of choice and necessity and as the land prospered the farmers and the tradesmen and the Captains came in humility and thanksgiving, giving generously to the support of the beautiful, white edifices that were the symbol of their devotion to Christianity. They have survived waves of free thought, of come-outers, Quakers, and bad times and good and they still stand, a monument sculptured in wood to man’s best dreams, their plain, dignified and honest lines a living testimony to the character of the Cape men who built them. Thankfully, after the custom of the forefathers, Cape people still gather at the churches on Sunday and there are none here that stand empty and abandoned. In the early times on the Cape the activities of the whole week were directed toward the Sabbath, and its observance took much longer than the hour or two now devoted to it. Sunday in all the villages really commenced on Saturday night when the diversions and duties of a workaday week were finally and quite definitely put aside. On Saturday afternoons Cape kitchens were warm and fragrant with the aroma of a week’s baking, part of which would first be savoured at Saturday night supper when the succulent baked beans and brown bread would make its traditional appearance on the kitchen table. And Sunday breakfast was almost as traditional with the warmed-over beans frequently accompanied by fish cakes of local cod which had been taken from a cool Cape cellar or buttery where it had been put down in native salt. Breakfast done, Sunday-go-to-meeting clothes came out from their week’s retirement, usually to the utter distress of the younger members of the household who, from the stiff postures and unhappy looks and squirmings could have been in fetters, rather than in starched-bosom shirts, black store clothes, and--most repulsive of all--highly polished, imprisoning boots. So restrained did the young feel without the casual freedom of their weekday clothes that they would have had neither taste nor heart for play, even had it been allowed. So they sat stiffly with the other members of the family, as if awaiting the judgment, until, at quarter to eleven, the commanding tones of the great church bell were heard. Then the great movement commenced along the narrow, twisting lanes, with each house emptying its very sedate and formal members into the streets which led to their common destination, the Meeting House. There