The two ministers mounted one of the curving staircases leading to the broad box pulpit, which lifted them to a level with the heavy galleries. The deacons ranged themselves in a long pew, which ran across the front, far below. On a narrow platform stood a table of cherry-wood, on which was a silver trencher of unleaven bread, cut in small fragments; a tankard and a goblet, over which a snowy napkin had been reverently cast: and, a little apart from these, stood a large china bowl filled with pure water. These preparations, simple as they were, seemed to strike that primitive congregation with unusual awe. Each member cast a solemn glance at the table before he seated himself, and the funereal silence that reigned through the house before the service commenced became almost painful. That was a long, labored sermon, full of quaint wisdom and ponderous theology. But the congregation listened to its innumerable divisions with intense interest, while the governor sat wrapped in thought, much paler than usual, and with a holy sadness creeping over his face. The gentle lady by his side raised her eyes now and then to his, with a look of wistful sympathy. The sermon was over; the long prayer said; then Samuel Parris arose from a back seat in the pulpit, and came down the steps; his gray hair streaming over his temples, his eyes full of strange light, and his hand pressed hard on the banisters to help his descent. The old man stood up on the platform in front of the deacons, and turned his gaze upon the governor's seat. Sir William Phipps arose, followed by a faint sob from that crimson-lined pew, and with a firm, slow tread, advanced in front of the communion-table. Perhaps in his whole life that strong man had never been more intensely agitated. Danger he had endured without flinching--sorrow, deep, deep sorrow, he had suffered in profound silence, seeking neither counsel nor sympathy; but to the very depths of his soul Sir William was a proud man, and it was with a great struggle that he stepped down from his high estate, and consented to become as a little child in the presence of so many people, mentally inferior to himself, and who could never comprehend the sublime strength which possessed his soul. He stood up before the people, and in a firm but very gentle voice addressed them. He touched briefly on the salient points of a most eventful life; spoke with great humility of his own shortcomings, and with solemn and touching dignity laid his heart in genuine faith on the altar of God. It was an eloquent address, full of sincerity and earnestness. In his whole life, perhaps, Sir William Phipps had never appeared so great before his people, or had so completely taken possession of their respect.