nd its rough-hewn puncheon benches have given way to
more comfortable seats. The quaint little window over the pulpit and
the slaves' gallery opposite have been removed, and more modern heating
appliance substituted for the old fireplace. Otherwise, the building is
the same as it was one hundred years ago.

To one who knows the history of its venerable walls and of those who
rest in its old-fashioned graveyard, where, underneath the arching
boughs of walnut and pine, oak and maple, there sleep Barton Stone and
many others who took part in the first great religious movement of the
nineteenth century, it is indeed a hallowed place. "What Geneva was to
Calvin, Wittenberg to Luther, Edinburgh to Knox, and Epworth to the
Wesleys,"[3] this beautiful nook of Bourbon County is to that great
reformatory or restoratory movement inaugurated in 1803, whose plea was
and still is the restoration of the simplicity, the freedom and the
catholicity of apostolic Christianity; and whose dominant effort has
ever been for the union of God's people upon the only efficient
platform of Christian union, faith in Jesus the Christ, the Son of God.

[3] J. T. Sharrard.

Mason Rogers and his bustling, kind-hearted wife lived to a ripe old
age, happy in home, children and children's children, and in the
affectionate regard of all who knew them. The warp of their daily life
was plain and homely, but the bright threads of integrity and
loving-kindness running through it, made it into a beautiful pattern,
approved of all men.

Henry Rogers, after finishing his course at Transylvania, dedicated his
splendid talents to the ministry, winning many souls to Christ,
enduring many trials, encountering much opposition from those professed
Christians in whom the spirit of sectarian intolerance still held sway.
Bravely he endured, and nobly he deserved, at the end of his long life
of unselfishness, the plaudit, "Well done, good and faithful servant!"

The strong bond of friendship between the Gilcrest, Rogers and Logan
families was made still closer and stronger when John Calvin Gilcrest,
at the close of the war of 1812, returned to Kentucky and married Susan
Rogers.

For Abner and Betsy Logan, the years as they sped onward brought an
ever-increasing measure of happiness; for their love for each other had
that steady, faithful, fireside quality which endures, and fills the
daily life with peace and charm long after the first blaze of passion
has sun