We Went Up Queen's Lane And Soon
Found The Building Occupied By The Free Church Of Scotland, Until A Temple
Of Fairer Proportions, On Which The Masons Are Now At Work, On The Top Of
The Hill, Shall Be Completed For Their Reception.
It was crowded with
attentive worshipers, one of whom obligingly came forward and found a seat
for us.
The minister, Mr. Frazer, had begun the evening service, and was
at prayer. When I entered, he was speaking of "our father the devil;" but
the prayer was followed by an earnest, practical discourse, though
somewhat crude in the composition, and reminding me of an expression I
once heard used by a distinguished Scotchman, who complained that the
clergy of his country, in composing their sermons, too often "mak' rough
wark of it."
I looked about among these descendants of the Norwegians, but could not
see any thing singular in their physiognomy; and but for the harsh accent
of the preacher, I might almost have thought myself in the midst of a
country congregation in the United States. They are mostly of a light
complexion, with an appearance of health and strength, though of a sparer
make than the people of the more southern British isles. After the service
was over, we returned to our lodgings, by a way which led to the top of
the hill, and made the circuit of the little town. The paths leading into
the interior of the island, were full of people returning homeward; the
women in their best attire, a few in silks, with wind-tanned faces.
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