"She laughed in a very provoking way, and said, 'Dark again, Jack; it is a labor of love.'"
"Well I never!"
"Nor I either."
THE HARVEST OF THE WIND.
Chapter I.
"As a city broken down and without walls, so is he that hath no rule over his own spirit."
"My soul! Master Jesus, my soul!
My soul!
Dar's a little thing lays in my heart,
An' de more I dig him de better he spring:
My soul!
Dar's a little thing lays in my heart
An' he sets my soul on fire:
My soul!
Master Jesus, my soul! my soul!"