. Zigzag journeys in the White city. With visits to the neighboring metropolis . s sheis a prophetess. My father bowed to her, and her face lightened up as she said,— A beautiful morning. T is a morning of the trees of the Lord, and I amone of the branches. Do you believe in the Great Thanksgiving? Her faceseemed full of hope. No, Hannah, no, said my father, truthfully. No? Well, I am sorry you dont believe it. But I must be faithful. Itis sure to come, for it has been revealed to me. I have been faithful to thedead,— and now I must be faithful to the living. This is all I have to live
. Zigzag journeys in the White city. With visits to the neighboring metropolis . s sheis a prophetess. My father bowed to her, and her face lightened up as she said,— A beautiful morning. T is a morning of the trees of the Lord, and I amone of the branches. Do you believe in the Great Thanksgiving? Her faceseemed full of hope. No, Hannah, no, said my father, truthfully. No? Well, I am sorry you dont believe it. But I must be faithful. Itis sure to come, for it has been revealed to me. I have been faithful to thedead,— and now I must be faithful to the living. This is all I have to live will come ! The people of the Lord in these plantations will gather doors will open, and there will be great thanksgiving. I shall be there,—right before the pulpit, right by the deacons seat. It has been revealed tome. I dont know how I shall be there. That is a veiled mystery; there is ashadow over it; I cannot see how it will be, but I shall be there. Where are you going this morning? Will you ride? asked my father. I m going to meetin. Who is to preach? THE FOLK-SONG FESTIVAL. 225 Who attends the meeting? I. Who sings? I. Do you sing countre? She dropped her eyes, and looked down on the violets, and when at lastshe lifted her face, it was wet with tears. Bless you, no ! There is no one now to sing cotintre. It takes two voicesto sing countre. They will sing again after the Great Thanksgiving, but now Iam left to sing alone. I have to sing the upper part now. My voice is not50 good as it used to be. She broke some purple lilacs from the sunny bushes by the roadside, andgave them to me. I thanked her, and, with a heart full of boyish sympathy,said,— I wish I had something to give you. You are a good boy to say so, but I dont expect anything from any onenow. My folks are all housed in the graveyard, and the sun is shinin uponthem, and the violets bloom in there. I shall be with them soon. I wish youwould come to meetin with me some Sunday morning. I 11 si
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1890, booksubjectworldsc, bookyear1894
