As this person will have further connexion with the matter of the
legend, he shall be more familiarly introduced in its pages.
The Reverend Meek Wolfe was, in spirit, a rare combination of the humblest
self-abasement and of fierce spiritual denunciation. Like so many others
of his sacred calling in the Colony he inhabited, he was not only the
descendant of a line of priests, but it was his greatest earthly hope that
he should also become the progenitor of a race in whom the ministry was to
be perpetuated as severely as if the regulated formula of the Mosaic
dispensation were still in existence. He had been educated in the infant
college of Harvard, an institution that the emigrants from England had the
wisdom and enterprise to found, within the first five-and-twenty years of
their colonial residence. Here this scion of so pious and orthodox a stock
had abundantly qualified himself for the intellectual warfare of his
future life, by regarding one set of opinions so steadily, as to leave
little reason to apprehend he would ever abandon the most trifling of the
outworks of his faith.
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