e usual vivid
description of the last judgment--ah, and I fancied that the
congregation did not get the ordinary satisfaction out of it. Fashion
had entered the fold, and the singing was mostly executed by a choir in
the dusky gallery, who thinly and harshly warbled the emotional hymns.
It occupied the minister a long time to give out the notices of the
week, and there was not an evening or afternoon that had not its
meetings, its literary or social gathering, its picnic or fair for the
benefit of the church, its Dorcas society, or some occasion of religious
sociability. The raising of funds appeared to be the burden on the
preacher's mind. Two collections were taken up. At the first, the boxes
appeared to get no supply except from the two white trash present. But
the second was more successful. After the sermon was over, an elder
took his place at a table within the rails, and the real business of the
evening began. Somebody in the Amen corner struck up a tune that had
no end, but a mighty power of setting the congregation in motion. The
leader had a voice like the pleasant droning of a bag-pipe, and the
faculty of emitting a continuous note like that instrument, without
stopping to breathe. It went on and on like a Bach fugue, winding and
whining its way, turning the corners of the lines of the catch without a
break. The effect was soon visible in the emotional crowd: feet began
to move in a regular cadence and voices to join in, with spurts of
ejaculation; and soon, with an air of martyrdom, the members began
to leave their seats and pass before the table and deposit their
contributions. It was a cent contribution, and we found it very
difficult, under the contagious influence of the hum from the Amen
corner, not to rise and go forward and deposit a cent. If anything could
extract the pennies from a reluctant worldling, it would be the buzzing
of this tune. It went on and on, until the house appeared to be drained
dry of its cash; and we inferred by the stopping of the melody that
the preacher's salary was secure for the time being. On inquiring,
we ascertained that the pecuniary flood that evening had risen to the
height of a dollar and sixty cents.

All was ready for the start. It should have been early in the morning,
but it was not; for Virginia is not only one of the blessed regions
where one can get a late breakfast, but where it is almost impossible to
get an early one. At ten A. M. the two horsemen rode away