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"What are those boys at, I wonder?" she said. "There's that big lout of a Wigglesworth boy. He's up to no good, I bet you." "Oh, a kids' row of some kind or ither, a doot," said the youth. "Come along." "He's hurting someone," said Annette, starting down the lane. "What? I believe it's that poor child, Steve Wickes."
June 1. Mr. Michael Wigglesworth, the Malden minister, at uncle's house last night. Mr. Wigglesworth told aunt that he had preached a sermon against the wearing of long hair and other like vanities, which he hoped, with God's blessing, might do good. It was from Isaiah iii. 16, and so on to the end of the chapter.
Michael Wigglesworth might have been immortal, could the genius born in him have been fed and trained by any of the "sane and mighty masters of English song"; but, born to the inheritance of a narrow and ferocious creed, with no power left to even admit the existence of the beautiful, he was "forever incapable of giving utterance to his genius except in a dialect unworthy of it," and became simply "the explicit and unshrinking rhymer of the five points of Calvinism."
McNish. "Well not exactly that is I don't know but you might call it a religious meetin'. To my mind, Mrs. McNish, you know " But Mrs. McNish would have no sophistry. "Mr. Wigglesworth," she began sternly. But Malcolm cut in. "Now, Mother, I suppose it's a regular enough meeting. Just wait till I get my hat, Mr. Wigglesworth. I'll be with you." His mother followed him into the house, leaving Mr.
Wickes will tell you, the matter had already been taken up. The result will be announced in a week or so." "Thank you, sir. Thank you, sir," said Mr. Wigglesworth. I sez to them, sez I, 'Mr. Maitland "That will do, Wigglesworth," said Mr. Maitland, cutting him short. "Have you anything more to say?" he continued, turning to McNish.
Wigglesworth, "they might have made a better choice than this. While you were discussing the subject, I was struck by at least a dozen simple and natural expressions from the lips of both mother and daughter. One of these would have formed an inscription equally original and appropriate."
During the first winter while some of the people, like the family of Michael Wigglesworth, were still living in cellars dug in the river-banks, Master George Lamberton was sailing in his sloop, the Cock, on a trading voyage to Virginia.
However this may have been, the good man he celebrated was a notable instance of the Angelical Conjunction, as the author of the "Magnalia" calls it, of the offices of clergyman and medical practitioner. Michael Wigglesworth, author of the "Day of Doom," attended the sick, "not only as a Pastor, but as a Physician too, and this, not only in his own town, but also in all those of the vicinity."
Sometimes the New England minister, like worthy Mr. Ward of Stratford-on-Avon, in old England, joined the practice of medicine to the offices of his holy profession. Michael Wigglesworth, the poet of "The Day of Doom," and Charles Chauncy, the second president of Harvard College, were instances of this twofold service.
My forefathers lived at Hamerton, more or less, from a time of which there is no record down to the reign of Henry VIII., but their principal seat in the time of their greatest prosperity was Wigglesworth Hall. I arrived there in time to see masons demolishing the building. One or two Gothic arched door-ways still remained, but were probably destroyed the next week.
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