A tall, lank old
gentleman, with a black cravat, and shirt-collar turned over it _a
l'Americain_, stepped forward, and, ascending the steps before the
Doctor, occupied one of the two chairs with which the rostrum was
furnished, the Doctor taking the other. I supposed him to be one of the
elders, going to give out the hymns, or to assist in the devotional
exercises. At this moment the organ--a fine-toned instrument--struck
up, and the choir sang some piece--known, I presume, only to
themselves, for no others joined in it. This prelude I have since found
is universal in America. In all places of worship provided with an
organ, a "voluntary" on that instrument is the first exercise. In the
present instance the choir had no sooner ceased than the Doctor stood
up, having his cloak still resting upon his shoulders, and stretched
forth his right hand. At this signal all the people stood up, and he
offered a short prayer. "Where is Abel, thy brother?" thought I, during
this address to the Father of the spirits of all flesh. He then read
the 23rd and 24th Psalms. "Where is Abel, thy brother?" was still
ringing in my ears.
Pages:
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55