The meeting-house, I knew, was the place where all the town, as well as religious, meetings were held. Here it had been agreed to take up arms. Here in the gallery was stored the town's supply of powder. From the windows of the building several soldiers of the King had been shot. I could not help wondering for the moment how all these things could be reconciled with religion. From the appearance and conversation of many of those in the crowd I took them to be men and women of honour, of excellence of character, people who would not willingly violate what they considered to be the laws of God. But this was one of the days I began to learn the meaning of religion as well as of war; and I do not hesitate to confess now, in looking back, that I was quite ignorant of both. My horse had shied fiercely at the dry bloodstains on the road as I came out; I was then quite unmoved, but the dark, irregular marks on the steps of the Lexington meeting-house, have not proved to be things I can easily forget. It was surely a strange place for men to shed each other's blood. But I was interrupted in my thinking by the arrival of the funeral processions at the church. The sight was a singular one. As the mourning friends gathered about the graves, all thought of war seemed swallowed up in grief. It was not like the soldiers' funerals of which I had read. There was no military display, no firing, no flag, nothing to mark the occasion off from the ordinary funeral of the country. There were many who wept; some threw flowers into the graves; but the great mass of the people looked on, and listened to the words of the clergyman with expressions upon their faces that spake other feelings than those of grief. These people were standing by the graves of the first dead of a great war. The greatness and suddenness of the recent events in their midst had stunned them. The quiet country was unused to such scenes. The surroundings were singularly beautiful. The gay note of birds, preparing to nest in the magnificent trees around the meeting-house and belfry, mingled in the solemn hymns sung with tremulous emotion by those at the side of the graves; and the freshness of late April was over all. How had it all come about? How long would it be before these men would go back to the unsown fields and to their ploughs standing in the furrows? I had formerly moved mainly with those who sympathised with the King; almost in spite of myself as I stood there looking into many honest faces I felt my sympathies being divided. And yet could these people be right? It was something, at least, to die. And some had already died. Were there honest men on both sides? Were both causes right?--the cause of these people and the cause of the King also? But the last sods were being placed upon the graves, and I moved toward the church. I gained an entrance only with difficulty.