of their crops and
the weather, and the big alligator caught near the hotel. It was time to
begin, and taking the little girl in his arms, Jake motioned to Mr.
Mason. In the door between the two rooms was a stand covered with a
clean white towel. On it was a Bible, a hymn-book, a cup of water, and
two or three flowers in another cup. Mr. Mason did not need the Bible.
Jake had asked for the Resurrection and the Life, and he had brought
his prayer-book, and began the beautiful burial service of the Church,
to which the people listened attentively for a while; then they began to
get tired, and by the time the long reading was through there were
unmistakable signs of discontent among them. They had expected something
more than reading a chapter. They wanted remarks, with laudations of the
deceased. Miss Dory was worthy of them, and because there were none they
fancied the minister did not believe it was all right with her, and they
resented it. Even old Miss Thomas had "gin in," and thar was the weddin'
ring, an' no sermon,--no remarks, and they didn't like it. Another
grievance was that no hymn was given out, and there was the hymn-book at
hand. They had at least expected "Hark from the tombs," if nothing else,
but there was nothing. Singing constituted a large part of their
religious worship, and they did not mean to have Miss Dory buried
without this attention.

As Mr. Mason finished the services and sat down, he was startled with an
outburst of "Shall we meet beyond the river." Everybody joined in the
song, negroes and all, their rich, full voices dominating the others,
and making Mr. Mason thrill in every nerve as the quaint music filled
the house, and went echoing out upon the summer air. When the "Beautiful
River" was finished some one outside the door took up the refrain:

"Oh, that will be joyful, joyful, joyful;
Oh, that will be joyful,
When we meet to part no more."

This appealed to the blacks, who entered into the singing heart and
soul, some of the older ones keeping time with a swinging motion of
their bodies, and one old lady in her enthusiasm bringing down her fist
upon the doorstep, on which she was sitting, and shouting in a way which
warned Jake of danger. He knew the signs, and putting down the little
girl, who had fallen asleep in his lap, he went to the old negress, who
was beginning to get under full headway, and holding her uplifted arm,
said to her:

"Hush, Aunt Judy, hush; this ain't