. Down the eastern and up the Black . see ; reflections, though, that seemlike veritable realities. I could lingerhere for hours had I the hours to give, butthe road tu iJuv. ningtown is long and the sun is leaping upward ;I must go. A church that stands close by the roadside invitesmy notice as I pass, and bids me welcome ; at least its doors areopen. Doors, did I say ? its windows, end and roof, are open. Ienter it and look around. No usheis show me to a seat, no of-ferings are asked for, nor do I see a single worshipper. Thechurch has passed into a ruin, apparently without a mo
. Down the eastern and up the Black . see ; reflections, though, that seemlike veritable realities. I could lingerhere for hours had I the hours to give, butthe road tu iJuv. ningtown is long and the sun is leaping upward ;I must go. A church that stands close by the roadside invitesmy notice as I pass, and bids me welcome ; at least its doors areopen. Doors, did I say ? its windows, end and roof, are open. Ienter it and look around. No usheis show me to a seat, no of-ferings are asked for, nor do I see a single worshipper. Thechurch has passed into a ruin, apparently without a mourner. Itonce was owned by Methodists, and afterwards was leased bySpiritualists, but now is claimed by no one. For some, no doubtthe place has sacred memories, but none whatever for the sacri-legious wretch who scribbled on these walls his ribald blas-phemies. Within the wood that seems to stretch indefinitely alongthis road, and in the meadows opposite, old Davy Netherygathered burdock, pennyroyal and other herbs, and some affirm [78 o3 HO p OR. that here he hunted blacksnakes for their tongues. A curiouscharacter was Davy, but not more sing-ular, perhaps, thanother products of Mormon Hollow. In traveling through southern Chester County, I frequentlyhave sought to find a barren spot called Scroggy, but alwaysunsuccessfully, the invariable response to every inquiry being alittle further south. Even Tom Lee, whose farm lies on theborder of Maryland, assures me most seriously, as he pointsacross the Octoraro, Scroggy is a little further south. Inlooking for Mormon Hollow in northern Chester County, thisexperience is duplicated—with some changing of the I stand upon ground that seems to answer every con-dition, the owner whispers to me confidentially, a little furthernorth. Occasionally I find a resident who tries to shift it toanother township, but how useless his effort, for the stain ofMormonism rests on the escutcheon of West Nantmeal. Mormonseed sprouted in We
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