him of right. Imagine the conspicuous dignity of one pew, in an unplastered barn-like structure, where the rest of the congregation probably sat on boards! The fancy for pews proved contagious, and in December it was decided that the house below stairs should be finished, and the front seats in the gallery, and that the cost should be met by the sale of pews by auction to the highest bidder. This was the most democratic feature that ever appeared in connection with the history of that meeting-house. The auction took place, and, of course, in a building with sixteen pews and a few "seats," among a population of a hundred or more families, several persons joined in buying one pew. It must be remembered that they were to be held, and to pass from sire to son like real estate. The highest price paid was £10 5s. The only person who "flocked by himself" was a great magnate in that pioneer community, Col. Williams. He undertook for the proceeds of the sale — £83 15s. — to see to the finishing of the house within twelve months, and he was to allow market price for lime and boards to those who chose to furnish them. Lime was one of the most precious of commodities,— the chimneys of the most pretentious houses in the town being laid in native clay for thirty years after this. A sub-contractor undertook the work, but failed to accomplish it, and in 1768, Col. Williams was called upon to finish the meeting-house according to contract; but he came short of his duty, and the people voted in 1770 "to accept it as it stood." Some young men had had leave in 1765 to build a pew over the gallery stairs, and in 1770 the young men generally combined in force, and built four pews in the front gallery, though it was provided "that they should be under the direction of the selectmen."
It seems as if it were an unfailing law of human nature that any company of people is bound to develop antagonisms. Here was a comparatively secluded and homogeneous community, that would seem able to dwell together in Arcadian simplicity and affection; but there was a "root of bitterness" in the distinctions between the original sixty lot owners and later comers. These people were English, and it took more than two hundred years to uproot their ingrained notions of the rights of an aristocratic class; and as yet they were living in a monarchy, under George III. The custom of "dignifying" the meeting-house existed at this time in almost every New England town; and it might have been labelled "An infallible recipe for keeping a town stirred up." Certainly the personal devil that flourished in the last century never had a more efficient instrument. Caulkin's history of Norwich, Conn., contains this account of it: —
"When the meeting-house was finished, a committee was appointed to dignify the seats, and establish the rules for seating the people. Usually the square pew nearest the pulpit was the first in dignity; and next to this came the second pew, and the first long seat in the front of the pulpit. After this the dignity gradually diminished as the pews receded from the pulpit. If the house was furnished, as in some in- stances, with square pews on each side of the outer door, fronting the pulpit, these were equal to the second or third rank in dignity. The front seat in the gallery and the two highest pews in the side galleries were also seats of considerable dignity. The rules for seating were formed on an estimate of age, rank, office, estate list, and aid furnished in building the house. These lists were occasionally revised, and the