Listen, John Jay, this is what the Book tells us."
With fingers that trembled in his eagerness to make himself understood,
he lifted the volume that had been lying in his lap. The words that he
read vibrated through the child's heart in the way that the organ music
used to roll. Never again in the years that followed could he hear them
read without seeing all the golden glory of that radiant October day,
and hearing the mournful notes of some distant dove, falling at
intervals through the Sabbath-like stillness.
He had a queer conception of what lies beyond the gates of this life. It
was a curious jumble of crowns and harps and long, white-feathered
wings. Mammy's favorite song said, "There's milk an' honey in heaven, I
know;" and Aunt Susan often lifted up her cracked voice in the refrain,
"Oh, them golden slippahs I'm agwine to wear, when Gabriel blows his
trum-pet!" How Uncle Billy could sigh for the time to come when he might
walk the shining pavements was beyond John Jay's understanding.
Personally, he preferred the freedom of the neighboring woods and the
pleasure of digging in the dirt to all the white robes and crowns that
might be laid up somewhere in the skies.
Pages:
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108