From its peculiar shape, this church was popularly known and is still remembered by some of our oldest inhabitants as ' The Old Stone Jug.' Alas, that this venerable relic of antiquity should now have to be numbered among the things that were! The changes incident to the lapse of years, and the vandalism of progress, or rather, shall I say, the progress of vandalism ? have so completely annihilated every vestige of the ancient structure, that even its exact situation, ilka that of its predecessor, cannot be definitely determined, but is more or less a matter of conjecture. And why, we ask, could not the grasping, all-absorbing spirit of change and novelty which characterizes the age have spared to us this one, humble monument of the past, to build which, it is

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said, that the men carried stones in their hands, and the women mortar in their aprons? If for no other reason, it should have been suffered to remain that it might guard the sleeping dust of two of its earliest and most faithful pastors, Kev. Daniel Boudet and Pierre Stouppe, whose remains, together with those of the wife of the latter, wore deposited beneath its floor. O irony of Time and Fate! While the emblazoned images of these two good men, arrayed in full clerical costumes, are displayed in glowing colors upon the chancel windows of the present Gothic edifice, their bodies moulder beneath the stones and dust of the public highway, once by law and usage the burialplace of suicides ! " '