house to induce him to buy, but saved themselves from ejection only by a hasty flight. "I'll never forget what he said about Lincoln," said one of his old neighbours now living. "When the news of Lincoln's assassination reached Sanbornton Bridge, I stopped at Mark Baker's to tell him of it. 'What!' he cried, and throwing down his hoe, he shouted at the top of his voice, 'I'm glad on't!' "
When his politics and religion clashed as they did during the Civil War, the old man was sorely torn. His pastor, Elder Corban Curtice, was a Republican who believed in the righteousness of the war, and Mark, with others of a different political faith, attempted to have the minister removed for "political preaching." Failing in this, some of the oldest members left the church. But Mark Baker remained. He went to church as regularly as ever, and abided by all its rulings as before, but his protest was expressed in a manner altogether characteristic. He sat doggedly through the sermon, his eyes fixed on the elder. The moment the word "rebellion" left the preacher's lips—whether he referred to the rebellion of the States or the rebellion of the angels—Mark Baker sprang to his feet, and, with flashing eyes and clenched fists, strode indignantly out of the church.
These incidents show the calibre of the man who was Mrs. Eddy's father. There is no doubt that he possessed qualities out of the ordinary. With his natural force and strong convictions, and with his rectitude of character, he might have been more than a local figure, but for the insurmountable obstacles of a childishly passionate temper and a deep perversity of mind. He was without imagination and without
