Beyond were cabins scattered in the fields, and presently a wood, and a little peak-roofed building close by the road, lighted and noisy with singing; and we slipped aside again, avoiding the light. It was a negro service. We could see the crowded black heads through the windows, and even hear the words of the hymn, following a queer, plaintive tune. The preacher on the platform shouted and swung his arms:
“Oh, don' you heah the trumpet blow?
Lulah! Lulah!
Don' you heah the trumpet blow?
All the mountains fall.”
“Notheh!” cried the preacher. “Thank God foh' notheh! Don' drap 'im!”
“Someone meet me in the dark—
Lulah! Lulah!
Someone meet me in the dark,
Lif' me when I fall.”