Cartwright by now seemed to be singing, exhorting, preaching and praying all at the same time. The shouters had felt the power, and added to the singing and praying. Shrill cries of "Glory," and other ejaculations of unearthly joy were heard. Bonnets, caps, and combs were beginning to fly. Several of the sisters gave exhibitions of what were called running, jumping and barking exercises, and the men most interested in them were near at hand to catch them when they fell. Some who succumbed to this excess of joy, remained in a trance-like condition, however, and there were at one time many unconscious men and women lying prostrate in the straw at one place. Abe Lincoln and Dr. Allen looked on with much interest.
In the midst of the excitement, there came to the ears of Abe Lincoln, from the woman's side, somewhere across from him, a familiar note. His interest was at once centred in discovering the owner of the voice. After a very short time he saw Ann Rutledge. To-night she wore a dress half wool, half flax, a soft material, dyed with butternut until it was as yellow as her hair. She stood not far from one of the pine-torch fires, and in the reflection of the orange flames she made a picture worthy an artist's canvas.
With his eyes upon her face, shining as if touched by fire from some heavenly altar, Abe Lincoln suddenly became oblivious of the scenes about him, though proving of such unusual interest to Dr. Allen.
The song about the Hebrew children had given way to another and yet more emotional expression; a hand-shaking ditty which seemed little more than a monophonic impromptu to carry the line, "My brother, I wish you well; when my Lord calls, I trust you will be mentioned in the Promised Land." Before the many improvised verses of this chant, alike rousing and pathetic, had been sung twice, the climax joy of the safety of heavenly bliss, and the climax sorrow of the doom of eternal punishment had been reached, and it was evident to Dr. Allen that the strange physical expression was about to break out.
"Look!" he said to Abe Lincoln.
There was no response.
"Look!" he repeated.
Then he glanced at the man by his side. Abe Lincoln was looking, but not as Dr. Allen had indicated, and the expression on his face was one Dr. Allen had never seen there. For a moment his eyes rested on the uncouth and homely youth in surprise; then, as if hesitating to break some pleasant spell, he took him by the arm and said softly, "They're getting the jerks."
Abe Lincoln turned suddenly, and in something of an apologetic tone said, "It's Ann Rutledge singing. Look at her face. Doesn't she seem happy?"