Those early Sabbaths were kept Holy. At sunset Saturday night all work and play ended, and the Sabbath was one long day of peace and rest. To us children, the Sabbath hours seemed long; but to look back upon them, they are radiant with Heavenly light and beauty. I suppose the greatest event of the first fifty years was the revival of 1843 when we had no pastor. Mr. Smythe had been dismissed and Mr. Brewster had not yet come to us. A Baptist Preacher, Rev. Waterbury, wished to hold revival meetings in this church. It was thought not best, but the fourth district schoolhouse was offered and a large tent added to receive the crowds who came to witness and to receive God's great salvation. That January was like Indian summer, no fires were needed, the bare ground had no chill for the prostrate seekers. Without, the nights were like day. A great comet blazed from the zenith to the horizon, and terrified the hearts of the unsaved ones. It seemed like the searching eye of God, and a sign of His coming to judge the world. Old and hardened sinners were in the dust seeking mercy. It was said the whole town was converted. When Mr. Brewster came to the pastorate in the Spring of 1843, he had the unusual joy of welcoming eighty into the church at his first communion Sabbath. I was then a child of ten years, and sitting in the front gallery witnessed the solemn service. And I thought I would give the whole world to find what they had found, and be numbered with the people of God. The years of Mr. Brewster's stay with us were the most beautiful of any I remember. The converts were holding meetings in private houses and in schoolhouses, and the light on their faces, and their song:
"Oh how happy are they
Who their Saviour obey,"
often thrilled my heart. Mr. Brewster, as preacher, pastor, comforter, and friend, was dear to all the people. The family life at the parsonage was unusually lovely and refined and was uplifting in its influence over all.