The 33rd Psalm was then sung. "Where is Abel, thy
brother?" was still heard (by me at least) louder than the swelling
tones of the organ. The singing done, of which the choir still had an
entire monopoly, the Doctor read the 14th chapter of Mark; and as he
read the awful story of our Lord's betrayal, I could not help thinking
that the only difference between some of the Southern slave-dealers and
Judas was, that had they been in his place, they would have made a
"smarter" bargain. The reading, though free from affectation, was not
by any means in the best style. The chapter finished, the tall elder
(as I took him to be) prayed,--the congregation standing. The prayer
was short and appropriate, and the language tolerably correct; but the
tone and pronunciation were queer. I supposed them to indicate some
provincialism with which I was not acquainted. Along with that peculiar
nasal sound for which nearly all Americans are distinguished, there was
in the voice a mixture of coaxing and familiarity which was a little
offensive; still, as a "layman's" exercise, it was very good. He prayed
for "every grace and Christian virtue.
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