Some time later my knees began to squeak and a warm spot appeared on a little toe, but just at this juncture a house swung into view and I knew Oak Park was nigh.
It was heartrending to learn that they did not and would not take boarders, and that the only man who did in those parts lived a half mile further on. No amount of looking pleasant had the least effect, and I must compromise on a glass of water, which my dry and withered interior sadly needed. Testing my knees gently and finding that they would bend without breaking, and that my feet could be lifted and pushed forward if care were exercised, the journey was again taken up; but why linger further on the sad scene?
Mr. Charles M. Crowell was counting his chickens when I arrived. He did not know whether I could stay the night or not; the old woman had the say on such subjects, and she had gone to see a sister. I said that I would go in and sit down to wait. The kitchen seemed the warm spot, and I snuggled up to the stove and was having a nice, comfortable time when my host dropped in and remarked that there was no fire in the stove. However, if I wanted one, it was no trouble, and soon there was a roaring blaze and I began to steam. When one has been sweating for hours it is a great comfort to sit close by a fire as the cool of evening comes on, although it seems quite evident that a good imagination can be a wonderful aid to comfort. As the poet has said: “There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so.”
Seven o’clock came and went and the better half of the Crowell family was still absent. I had in the meantime become intimate with two ginger cookies which, having been overbrowned in the making, were left on the kitchen table, but felt that a hard worker like myself could not live on ginger cookies alone, at least not on two, and made no attempt to disguise my joy when my hospitable friend supposed I would like something to eat. He made tea and gathered up various cold fragments of pie and cookies, bread and apple-sauce, and we did very well.
The missis came along about nine o’clock, and shortly thereafter I was dreaming that little devils were twisting my legs off.
When it was time to depart on the following morning Mrs. Crowell thought that fifty cents would be sufficient as the meals had not been very substantial, which was true enough, but the room was clean and my host and hostess were kindly people, and so far as I was able to judge the food was sustaining.
The two and one-half miles into Barrington were without incident, except for a strange bird that crossed my path. It was not a partridge, nor was it any ordinary escape from the barnyard. It stood as though its usual occupation was looking for berries rather than worms, and walked with a dignity that the domestic hen never possessed.
It is claimed for the old meeting house in Barrington (1765) that it is the only church in Canada of its age that has been retained in its original form inside and out; others that remain have been altered and built over until little or nothing is left of the original. This only escaped destruction by a narrow margin, as some time in the eighties the Legislature decreed that the building should be demolished, owing to its dangerous condition. But local pride came to its aid at the last moment, and by the application of two or three hundred dollars where most needed, it was put in good repair, and at the present time two denominations worship every Sunday within its old fashioned box pews.
Some eighty families from Nantucket and Cape Cod emigrated to this place between the years 1761 to 1763; about half remained to form a permanent settlement. Work was probably commenced on the church shortly after, as by 1765 the building was finished and dedicated. With the first settlers came Samuel Wood, a Congregational pastor. He held services here and at other points along the shore as far as Yarmouth, but when the Revolution broke out, returned to his former home and became a chaplain in the American army.
In the meantime, about 1770, the New York Methodist Conference sent Freeborn Garretson to this region to proselyte. He was received but coldly, however, though permitted to preach in the meeting house. He failed entirely to win any converts to his cause, and finally withdrew to the woods to commune with his Maker. While offering up his supplications for light and guidance he was overheard by some of the people, and these, spreading the report abroad, aroused much curiosity which led to a considerable attendance when a second meeting was held. It does not appear, however, that any were deeply impressed.