my earliest remembrances of the first church edifice on broad street, except the grand pulpit and a general glory of galleries and chandeliers, are rather dim. the auditorium seemed to be a vast and awful place, where a little boy would not like to be left alone in the twilight or the darkness. nevertheless all my daylight memories of it are of the most genial sort. the great middle aisle, so well-fitted for a marriage or wedding parade, but which afterwards, when as a preacher, from the marble memorial pulpit, i looked down into its sheer length and emptiness, i considered as a tunnel of waste space, was carpeted red. the enamel-white pew-doors, with white porcelain number plates, bright red pew facings and cushions, and the lines of black silk hats of the gentlemen, laid just outside the pew doors, made a morning picture in which color was not lacking. in the afternoons, the aisles, occupied by eager hearers, were crowded with settees and chairs, so the silk hats of pew owners had to be kept, literally, indoors. on week nights i was often a witness of the ceremonies, in which several of the twenty-five hundred or more couples which were yoked in wedlock by john chambers during his pastorate, received the nuptial benediction, and the bride the pastor's kiss.

at the orient end of the aisle, before the enlargement of 1853, rose the great mahogany pulpit, which swelled out in its capacious center and then rounded out with a still more generous curve at either end, from which rose two short pillars, as imposing to my youthful mind as those of hercules. i remember how much i wondered, my infantile[71] intellect being confused, when my father pointed out the "pillars" on the spanish silver dollars, that two things so different, coin marks and pulpit ornaments should be called by the same name. on the top of these pillars at first was a globe lamp filled with oil, though in the march of progress, wick and chimney gave way to gas burners. even to this day, my mental associations of the "lamps", in the parable of the ten virgins, are those of my boyhood's days in chambers church. great crimson velvet curtains hung from near the ceilings, and shining brass bands on the carpet of the pulpit stairs are also in my recollection.

my next impression of the dear old house of worship was in 1853, when not quite ten years old, and living on girard avenue, in the northern part of the city, i was taken "down town" to the sacred edifice when it was undergoing a process of enlargement and change. the fashions of 1831 were to give way to those of 1853. there was another great curtain, this time not of velvet, but, if i remember right, of coarse canvas, which separated from, but also allowed a partial view into a space in which masons, plasterers and carpenters were at that time more familiar than were sitters and worshippers.

in the twenty-one years of its history, the large building erected in 1831 had become too strait. by resolution of the annual meeting in april, 1853, the old pulpit had been taken away, the eastern wall knocked out, and the whole edifice changed in appearance by making an oriental extension of fifteen feet, while in front, on broad street, the portico, with its imposing platforms, pillars and pediment were added. during the interim, when homeless, the congregation worshipped in concert hall, on chestnut street. when i saw again the old church home, simplicity had given away to luxury. it was like the exchange from ben franklin's[72] two-penny earthen porringer and pewter spoon for china and silver.

the enlargement at both ends gave fifty-four additional pews in the audience chamber and more abundant space in the new sunday school room, which, though a basement, was well lighted through plenty of windows on three sides. there was also a large "infant school" room, or primary department, over which my mother presided for several years, besides the large committee room, afterwards used for meetings of the session, and also as a bible class conducted during many years by mr. rudolph s. walton. these rooms fronted on sansom street. on the north side, lighted from the alley, straatje, or little street, as the dutch would say, were the library rooms.

in a word, the building had been modernized, with improved furnaces and gas lighting apparatus, new carpets, new cushions and large galleries, etc., so that when again i saw the edifice some months later it seemed not only a new and more gorgeous house of worship, with the glory as of the second temple, but everything was so shining and and clean, that it struck me as being an unusual sin to do what the small boy is so tempted to do,—to scratch the varnish on the pew backs. it is true that the very brightness of that varnish challenged the average urchin to see if he had not about him a pin, or the nib of a broken steel pen, to make his initials visible, or possibly some music. no carpet, or terry, or pew cushions ever seen on earth before, as i imagined, could be of a richer red, and beside the white enamelled front of the pulpit platform, nothing ever appeared whiter or glossier. the pulpit itself was carved in foliations, all as glistening white as if, though in reality wood, it were polished marble. in later years this altar-like pulpit gave way to a square structure of more massive[73] dimensions, doric in outline and simplicity, that extended across the whole space between the columns.

that end of the sacred edifice to which our eyes first turned and longest dwelt, seemed to have passed through a veritable transfiguration. my boyish fancy, struck by the biblical phrase, suggested its shining whiteness as having been blanched by "fuller's earth"—to me an entirely unknown and mystic substance. as for the red velvet, on which the big bible lay open, nothing before or since seemed to have richer gloss or texture, or more strikingly huge tassels. two fluted white marble ionic columns rose from the pulpit floor space to the ceiling. back against the wall, instead of the old sofa, ten or twelve feet long, of veneered mahogany, with cushions covered with horse hair cloth, was a modern and more jauntily carved article of half the old length and apparently less comfortable. but what has comfort to say, as against fashion? hanging beside the sofa, against the wall, on a white porcelain knob, was the very large oval fan of crow feathers, which, while to the ungodly it represented a rather narrow handled ace of spades, was then the thoroughly orthodox ornament of a pulpit, with which the preacher was expected to cool his brow without chilling his zeal on hot days in summer. indeed there were some very hot days, when, glued to the overheated cushion, the small boy envied "the freedom of irreligion of the flies." as to the physical activity of the pastor, while preaching it was very vigorous, but it was too graceful to approach closely the reputed ideal of abraham lincoln, who liked to have a parson discourse "as if he were fighting bees". nevertheless the fan, at restful moments, when he was seated, came into requisition as often as did the historic white handkerchief in time of oratorical action.

to the right and left of the pulpit were two high windows, with panes of colored glass. rather long and narrow, each[74] consisted of two upright sashes or divisions, like casements, which could be easily opened in summer for ventilation. so much color, even to frivolity in the eyes of some, looked positively gay and suggested modern luxury more than ancestral simplicity.

above the level of the floor and middle aisle was a large platform two steps high and probably six or eight feet wide, on which was marshalled the range of chairs for the pastor and his elders, who had ample room on it, even with the communion table set about the middle of the stage. at either end of this platform was a line of pews, five or six in number, at right angles with the eastern wall and entered from the west. in later years, these gave way to a screen of white painted wood and ground glass, covering stairways into the lower room. as for the ceiling, it was truly imposing in its great central countersunk rotunda and depressed squares, which showed how grandly the architect had treated this portion of the edifice.

the cost of the improvements was nearly fifteen thousand dollars, but the number of pews became 242 and the capacity, including the galleries, had increased so as to seat fifteen hundred persons. nevertheless, for many years, it was not uncommon, as i clearly remember, to pack together under the one roof twenty-five hundred auditors. this was done by sitting and standing, by stowing away the children upon laps and down on hassocks, filling the aisles with seats, having rows of human wall flowers blooming upright all along the gallery, aisles, passage ways, and steps, and by cramming the vestibule, which was often completely occupied by settees or with a standing crowd. happily no fire broke out or panic ensued during these dangerous jams. after the benediction the trustees, church officers, and boys and men were only too glad to volunteer as ushers, sextons, or labor[75]ers. "amen, jacob, carry out the benches", was less a jest than a reality which we boys liked. give a boy some muscular as well as spiritual occupation and he can stand the long services.

the most impressive scenes in the regular church services were those of the last sundays in march, june, september, and december, when the memorial supper of the lord, as instituted by him, was enjoyed. this celebration of holy communion was an intensely dramatic as well as a moving scene. indeed, sometimes, on the highly wrought imagination, and under the melting appeals of the man who saw, felt, and lived the truth, it was powerfully remindful of the ultimate division between the sheep and the goats. all the lower part of the church was reserved for and occupied by the communicants. in addition, as i remember seeing more than once, the aisles were thronged even to the pulpit stairs. of the thirteen hundred and more members the overwhelming majority was likely to be present at communion seasons. the gallery was reserved and usually filled, yes, often packed, with the "sinners", to whom, in the course of the services, with streaming eyes and imploring hands, john chambers would make intensely personal and moving appeals, which, perhaps in hundreds of cases, wrought decision. to this day "the galleries" in any edifice have to me a suggestion of impenitence about them. nevertheless how, and particularly why, as i read, the king was "held captive in the galleries" (song vii., 5), was utterly beyond my boyish comprehension.

one of these seasons, which marked my own first participation in the sacrament, i well remember, being but fourteen years old, the number uniting at this time being about forty-four. we made two lines along the pew fronts on either side of the aisle.

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another famous occasion was that of june, 1858, in the time of the great revival which swept over the land, and especially philadelphia. of seventy new members added, twenty-seven were baptized by the pastor. of the seventy, sixty-seven were received on first confession of faith after examination and three by letter.

a writer in the christian observer of philadelphia describing the scene, remarks: "the pastor administered the ordinance of baptism. the charges he gave them severally, as he baptized them into the name of the father, and the son, and the holy ghost, were various, scriptural, appropriate—words of hallowed counsel, touching the great end of life—are never to be forgotten. as the seventy stood before that immense audience, professing their faith in christ, their ever living, reigning saviour, and as the pastor addressed them and the large assembly of communicants in words of life and truth, in which all seemed to feel a living interest, the scene was solemn, grand, and glorious. we were ready to exclaim: 'this is none other but the house of god and this is the gate of heaven'. the distribution of the bread and the wine to the thousand or twelve hundred communicants occupied nearly an hour. the church was then briefly addressed by dr. converse and again by the pastor. all were reminded that as members of the church they were not their own; they had been bought with a price; redeemed not with silver and gold, but with the precious blood of christ".

on his fiftieth anniversary, dr. chambers said: "the ordinance of the lord's supper has been administered every quarter of a year for the last fifty years, and there has been but one communion during the whole time when there were not additions, and that was one of the quarters when i was in europe. we have never received at any single time[77] fewer than seven, and no more at one time than one hundred and twenty to the communion. i state these facts that you see how good god has been to us, and how great our debt is."

i am very frank to say that, as a small boy, the moment of dismission from the church service, after three hours indoors, was a very happy one, and the event usually awaited with pleasure as the crowning circumstance of the function. truth compels me to state that my facility and celerity in covering the distance along the north side aisle, between the pew door and the vestibule, was something that often amazed my elders. our pew was third from the front, but i reached the doorway, not wholly out of breath, nor usually mixed up in the crowd. i always did have an admiration for elijah who could outrun ahab's chariot and horses. the truth also compels me to add that my idea of happiness, at 12 m., was to join that amazingly large "curbstone committee" of boys and men, often three or four deep, which gathered on the edge of the pavement, among and in front of the "tree boxes"—for broad street was lined with trees then—in order to see the thousand or more people come out of the vestibule and down two sets of steps to the pavement. this was the time when, in my eyes, young girls were the prettiest,—even more than they have ever been since, and nearly everything in the world was usually bright and glorious, even though i had many boyish sorrows unknown to the world. i must be self-righteous to confess that often it chanced, that while i had been genuinely "at church" and inside of it, not a few of the "curbstone committee" were young men (with some older ones) who had not been in church at all, but had come to escort the pretty girls home, or to meet their friends; though of course the great majority around the "tree boxes" had been listeners, if not worshippers within.[78] usually on the large stone platform, between the entrance door and the columns, the pleasant friendly interviews and final handshakes with pastor and parishioners and friends in general, took place.

it was about half past twelve when we arrived home, on twentieth street four doors south of chestnut. father, mother and seven children, the normal family, and often with guests, enjoyed, after due thanks to god, the bountiful fare, and the one hour of the week when the head of the house was present at the mid-day meal. then about 1:40 p.m., we were off again to sunday school which opened at two o'clock, and which once a month took the form of a temperance or a missionary meeting. at times, besides the appropriate singing and special addresses, often from the master's envoys abroad, but home on a furlough, we had the missionary news from all parts of the world read to us. i remember particularly the presence and words of two christian indians from kansas. one speaker, among many, whom i well remember hearing, was rev. wilder, the founder of the week of prayer. among other enterprises, in which my boyish energies were enlisted, was that of securing contributions in money for the equivalent of one or more bricks in the american sunday school union building on chestnut street. another was the financing of two and a half shares in the missionary ship morning star. i remember how the pastor thrilled us with the news of the reed treaty of 1858, saying "china is open to the gospel". the yedo embassy of 1861, giving me my first sight of men from the mikado's empire—and especially as i saw "tommy" and others at short range on chestnut street—powerfully impressed my imagination. i little knew at the time that i should be an educational pioneer in the then distant archipelago.[8]

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[8] see the mikado's empire, townsend harris, life of commodore matthew calbraith perry, japan in history, folk-lore and art, the religions of japan, etc.

the afternoon sunday school over, the preaching and worship in the auditorium above usually attracted a much larger crowd than in the morning. often i have seen every available space in the aisles, stairways, vestibule and pulpit platform taken up.

the afternoon exit to the small boy was even more interesting than in the morning, for the pavement and "church parade" show was greater. hence, also, for purposes other than of strict devotion the said small boy usually took his seat in the gallery, near the head of the stairs. the benediction over, he was promptly on the side walk to see the largest number of pretty girls, and other people more or less interesting.

at home, from half past five until seven o'clock was a happy time, sitting on father's knee, while he told us stories of his voyages to manila or africa, or holland, or of his travels on different continents, and among many kinds of people. as we grew older the interesting library book, and the bright chat and pleasure round the supper table made the time fly until 7:10 or 7:15, when we started for the prayer meeting, which, year after year, was as i remember it, held in the lower room. it was attended by from four hundred to seven hundred people, frequently every seat being occupied, with settees down the aisles to hold those who could not get in the cushioned pews.

the old, long and imposing mahogany pulpit from the old church auditorium, but without its stairways, had been set into the lecture room of the new and enlarged building. while the leader of the prayer meeting occupied the space up and inside, dr. chambers sat below and in front on a large chair, immediately outside the pulpit, his head being just under the crimson velvet cushion on which the bible rested. the front row of seats, as i remember, was usually[80] filled by a dozen or so, more or less, of devoted women, who probably, next after god and as his most trusted representative on earth, worshipped their pastor. to the left, or eastward on the first seat, sat mr. newland, the choir master, who started the tunes.

the storage battery of power was in the half-dozen or so pews running north and south over in the northeast corner, at right angles to the general line of seats. crowded with twenty to forty out of the nearly one hundred men in the church, young and old, who could and would take part in the prayer meeting, they formed a reserve force of which any pastor might be proud. those not sitting in these special pews were usually ranged somewhere near that famous corner, though occasionally, for best effect, they chose seats more generally distributed throughout the audience. men like burtis, steinmetz, smith and walton, as i remember, were always clear, strong, edifying, speaking out of fullness as well as conviction. some of their prayers will never be forgotten. as the alabaster cruse of memory breaks from time to time into recollection, the sweet aroma fills all the house of the soul.

among those in this citadel and stronghold of these delightful meetings who used most warmly to pray was an irish brother, who once petitioned most fervently that upon the pastor might descend "the fullness of the godhead bodily". there were exaggerations in the old church, but they were usually on the right side.

bliss, wanamaker, seldomridge and other young men, as i see them in my mind's eye, often sat on the western side.

almost invariably in times of spiritual interest, which was, as it seems to me, pretty frequent, constant and general, and almost certainly so in the midwinter, the pastor, toward the end of the hour would retire into the committee[81] room—not then called "inquiry room". those who wished to meet him, or rather could not resist his appealing invitations, would rise from their places and reach their waiting and praying leader. this they did by passing westward, either through the southern or the northern door and rooms leading out from the prayer meeting room. after traversing some yards of a space, short and direct on the south side, longer and more diagonal on the north side, "the trembling sinner in whose breast a thousand thoughts revolve", reached the friend of their souls. sometimes, indeed, mr. chambers had no one to meet him, but usually there were from two to twenty persons with whom he had a word and perhaps a prayer. in that room hundreds of decisions were made which affected souls for eternity. i shall never forget my journey thither and the warm words that welcomed, warned, and secured decision. that night the hymn was "o, to grace how great a debtor". nor could i, even if i would, let slip into oblivion the meeting of the session a few evenings later in the same room. the decision of the boy to "turn to the right and go straight ahead", seemed too sudden for one elder, and he spoke against immediate reception and advised postponement. so quick a change from mischief to seriousness seemed suspicious, if not dangerous.

god bless rudolph s. walton, transparent in his honesty as japanese crystal! how often we laughed over it afterwards—his brief mistrust of me—as "holding forth the word of life" we cheered each other on in the christian way.

although the sabbaths were thus filled up and strictly kept, no days seemed more sunny and joyous. the weeknight services were the lecture on wednesday evening and prayer meeting on friday. often the first service took the[82] form of a big social bible class, when in the socratic way, by question and answer, we learned more of god and of his wonderful word.

"all this work was made easy by the inspiration of our pastor.... no one could continue long a member of this church without finding something to do."

nor was this all. besides "the untiring industry, the earnest manner and the burning eloquence" of the pastor, he made us all as one family, by his own fine manners and his training of us in sociability. we had to be hospitable and act towards the unknown stranger, in each case, as if we might possibly entertain an angel unawares. i remember once seeing, about 1856, i think, a slender, bashful young man come to our sunday school. he carried his lunch in his pocket, so as to attend both sessions, and church also, for between 12 and 2, there was not time to walk to and back from his home far distant in the south end of the city, somewhere near "the neck." my mother spoke to him and invited him to our house to dinner. i learned to know well, to honor and to love the young man, looking up to him for inspiration and cheer. he became one of john chambers's "three big w's." he is now one of philadelphia's merchant princes, a maker of the new quaker city, a tireless worker for god and man.