The preacher of this small congregation was Mr. Alexander, "Uncle
Aleck," as everybody called him, who lived in the west part of the
town, on the border of "the woods." A man well in years, inferior in
person, with a mild, sweet, benevolent face, and blameless, dreamy
life, he spent much time in "sarching the Scripters," as he expressed
it, in constant conversations and mild disputations of Bible texts
and doctrines, and sermonizing at the Sunday assemblies of his
co-believers. He was a man without culture, without the advantage of
much converse with cultivated people, of rather feeble and slender
mental endowments, but of a wonderfully sweet, serene, cheerful
temper, and a most abiding faith. His was a heart and soul whose love
and compassion embraced the created universe. He believed that God
created only to multiply the objects of His own love, and that the
ultimate end of all Providence was to bless, and he did not doubt that
He would manage to have His way. That He had ever generated forces and
powers beyond His control, he did not believe. The gospels, to him,
were luminous with love, mercy, and protecting providence; and while
his sermons were faulty and confused, his language vicious, and his
pronounciation depraved, so that he furnished occasional provocation
to scoffers among the profane, and to critics among the orthodox,
there was always such sweetness and tenderness, and love so broad,
deep, rich and pure, that few earnest or thoughtful minds ever heard
him without being moved and elevated by his benignant spirit.