n them before they go to bed."

Socola accompanied her to the door and turned again on the lawn to enjoy
the white glory of the Southern moon. The lights were still twinkling in
the long rows of negro cabins that lined the way to the overseer's
house. Through the shadows of the trees he could see the dark figures in
the doorways of their cabins silhouetted against the lighted candles in
the background.

He strolled leisurely into the lower hall. The door of the library was
open. He paused at the scene within. A group of four little negro girls
surrounded Jennie. She was reading the Bible to them.

"Can't you say your prayers together to-night?" the young mistress
asked.

The kinky heads shook emphatically.

Lucy couldn't say hers with Amy:

"'Cause she ain't got no brother and sister to pray for."

Maggie couldn't say hers with Mandy:

"'Cause she ain't got no mother and father."

So each repeated her prayer alone and stood before their little mistress
who sat in judgment on their day's deeds.

Lucy had jabbed a carving knife into Amy's arm in a fit of temper. Her
prayer had made no mention of this important fact. The judge gave a
tender lecture on the need of repentance. The little sullen black figure
hung back stubbornly for a moment and walled her eyes at her enemy. A
sudden burst of tears and they were in each other's arms, crying and
begging forgiveness. And then they filed out, one by one.

"Good night, Miss Jennie!"

"Good night!"

"God bless you, Miss Jennie--"

"I'll never be bad no mo'!"

He had come to break the chains that cut through human flesh and he had
found this--great God!

For hours he lay awake, dreaming with wide staring eyes of the long
blood-stained history of human Slavery and its sharp contrast with the
strange travesty of such an institution which the South was giving to
the world.

He had barely lost consciousness when he leaped to the floor, roused by
loud voices, tramping feet and the flash of weird lights on the lawn.
Growls and long calls echoed from point to point on the spacious
grounds, hulloes and echoing answers and the tramp of many feet.

Some horrible thing had happened--sudden death, murder or war had broken
out. A voice was screaming from the balcony aloft that sounded like the
trumpet of the arch-angel calling the end of time.

He listened.

It was old Colonel Barton yelling at the sleepy negroes. In heaven's
high name what could they be doing?

Soc