with a grievance. Mary, a shy spectator, beheld her father’s unvarying courtesy, his stern repression of profanity or angry speech. On one occasion when his judgment was not accepted and one of the disputants angrily protested, the child from her corner, imitating her father’s dignified bearing, though in the soft voice of her mother, interpolated, “Mr. Bartlett, why do you articulate so vociferously?”
The unexpected rebuke coming from a child and in such unfamiliar words, caused a burst of laughter, followed by general good humor and the neighbors departed in peace. “Mary settled that quarrel,” said her father with his grim smile, and for years after her speech was quoted whenever a turbulent social spirit threatened the general harmony.
Often the minister from Pembroke, “Priest” Burnham, as he was called, the man who was active in founding Pembroke Academy, would drive up to the farm to discuss with Mark Baker church matters, prolonging his visit to elucidate the faulty doctrine of a rebellious parishioner. Condemning all such to eternal judgment with theological satisfaction, the clergyman would offer prayer, after which, before departing, he would accept with benign graciousness the hospitality Mr. Baker would offer him at the corner cupboard. Mary watched such scenes with the gravest interest and remembered them vividly in after years, not without a peculiar relish of humor. Her father was a great churchman and often visited “backsliders” with this same “Priest” Burnham, to labor with them in matters
