Already a goodly crowd of mothers, babies, godfathers, and godmothers had assembled—a crowd of all grades, judging from their exteriors, for dress had not then ceased to be a criterion; and all ceremonies of this kind were performed in shoals—not singly. The Rev. Joshua Brookes, followed by his clerk, came through the door in the carven screen, between the choir and baptismal chapel, and took his place behind the altar rails. And now ensued a scene which some of my readers may think incredible, but which was common enough then, and there, and is notoriously true. The width of the altar could scarcely accommodate the number of women waiting to be churched; and the impatient Joshua assisted the apparitors to marshal them to their places, with a sharp “You come here! You kneel there! Yon woman’s not paid!” accompanied by pulls and pushes, until the semi-circle was filled. But still the shrinking lady, and another, unused to jostle with rough crowds, were left standing outside the pale. Impetuous Joshua had begun the service before all were settled. “Forasmuch as it hath pleased——” His quick eye caught the outstanding figures. Abruptly stopping his exordium, he exclaimed, in his harsh tones, which seemed to intimidate the lady, “What are you standing there for? Can’t you find a place? Make room here!” (pushing two women apart by the shoulder), “thrutch up closer there! Make haste, and kneel here!” (to the lady, pulling her forward). “You come here;—make room, will you?” and having pulled and pushed them into place, he resumed the service. Presently there was another outburst. There had been a hushing of whimpering babies, and a maternal smothering of infantile cries, as a chorus throughout; but one fractious little one screamed right out, and refused to be comforted. The nervous tremor on that kneeling lady’s countenance might have told to whom it belonged, had Joshua been a skilful reader of hearts and faces. His irritable temper got the better of him. He broke off in the midst of the psalm to call out, “stop that crying child!” The crying child did not stop. In the midst of another verse he bawled, “Give that screaming babby the breast!” He went on. The clerk had pronounced the “Amen” at the end of the psalm; the chaplain followed, “Let us pray;” but before he began the prayer, he again shouted, “Take that squalling babby out!”—an order the indignant nurse precipitately obeyed; and the service ended without further interruption. Then followed the christenings, and another marshalling (this time of godfathers and godmothers, with the infants they presented), in which the hasty chaplain did his part with hands and voice until all were arranged to his satisfaction.