The visits of the parson were prized events. An atmosphere of dignity and solemnity seemed to emanate from his black clothes, high stock and white cravat. A reverence now unknown was felt for him, and he was looked up to as the fountain head of theology and religion. The doctrines of election, predestination and eternal punishment were talked of, filling my childish mind with dire forebodings of literal fire and brimstone. After a “season of prayer,” and dinner (always an extra good one), he drove away, to my great relief. Visits in those days did not mean calls. Company came from miles away to spend the day, often uninvited, but not unwelcome. To “drop in and take pot luck” was not, as to-day, a figure of speech, but literally true, for a “boiled dish” was the regulation dinner. Corned beef, salt pork, and vegetables were served together on a big pewter platter, with a boiled bag-pudding of Indian meal. This may not sound as well as Beef _à la mode_, _entrées_ and desserts; but, when well cooked, it was by no means to be despised; and on it our ancestors lived; thrived, and were content, thankful and happy. Possibly it _did_ give them bilious and depressed views of the hereafter! Sunday began Saturday night, when the sun went down behind the hills. With the lengthening shadows came a seeming stillness, in advance of the long day of rest to follow. The Sunday breakfast was early, giving plenty of time for the long drive to “meeting.” Come sun, come rain, snow or wind, nothing but sickness excused absence from the two long sermons, morning and afternoon, with prayer meeting between. The day was kept to the very letter of the old Sabbatical law. Dinner was prepared Saturday, and eaten cold. For Sunday reading, the leather-bound Family Bible and Psalm Book were brought out; also Baxter’s Saints’ Rest, Pilgrim’s Progress, and the Book of Martyrs. A walk beyond the garden and dooryard was not allowed, till after sundown; a drive, except in case of necessity, was never thought of. Only “York State folks” did that. A maiden aunt reproved me for cracking nuts on Sunday, giving me to read the Fourth Commandment, and Isaiah 58: 13-14, “If thou turn away thy foot from the Sabbath, from doing thy pleasure on my holy day,” etc. The remembrance of those well-kept, solemn Sundays still remains; and, to this day, my inherited New England conscience never fails to accuse any transgression of the Fourth Commandment. Howells says, “The devout spirit of the old Puritans remained to their descendants long after the stern creed that had embodied that spirit had passed away.” Fast Day, too, was strictly kept in Puritan households, without reference to Good Friday. We might ramble in the woods for wild flowers, however, gather wintergreen, birch and sassafras for root beer, and have fritters and maple syrup for supper.