een, there were those then living and perhaps present to have challenged it.
The occasion in question was one of a sort that was almost new to Medford; one that required the courage of their convictions of the participants.
Medford was then (1823), one hundred and ninety-three years from its settlement, a town of about one thousand five hundred inhabitants.
Its third meetinghouse had served the people for fifty-three years both for religious worship and secular assembly, and the forty-eigparting of the ways was near—indeed had been reached the previous year, as we will later notice.
Under the system of church and parish then operating, any dissenting views or doctrine must find other than the meeting house for promulgation.
In 1823, places of public assemblage were few, and consisted mainly of such halls as the taverns afforded, notably that earlier of Hezekiah Blanchard, and then and later, the Medford House.
To those who forsook the stately meeting-house up old High st