The Madison journal. (Tallulah, Madison Parish, La.) 1888-current, 1913-08-30
A Disturbing LAUGH.
CHAPTER u.

hC oCi wac Chucu, tHC CAbOI-
tation was at the point of loudest
voice and most impassioned earnest.
ness. A number OF men, most of them
young. thronged the footpath leading
from the stiles to the tent. A few
were smoking: all were waiting for
the pretty girls to come forth from
the Christian camp. Fran pushed her
way among the idlers with admirable
nonchalance, her sharp elbow ready
for the first resistive pair OF ribs
The crowd outside did not argue a
scarcity of seats under the canvas.
Fran found a plank without a back,
loosely disposed, and entirely unoc.
cupied. She seated herself, straight
as an Indian, and with the air of be-
Ing very much at ease.
The scene was new to her. More
than a thousand villagers. ranged
along a natural declivity, looked down
upon the platform of undressed pine
In front of the platform men and
women were kneeling on the ground
Some were bathed in tears; some
were praying aloud; some were talk
ing to those who stood, or knelt be-
side them; some were clasping con-
vulsive hands; all were oblivious OF
surroundings.
From the hundred members of the
choir, Fran singled out the man she
had been seeking for so many years.
1t was easy enough to distinguish him
from the singers who crowded the
platform, not only by his baton which
proclaimed the choir-leader. but by
his resemblance to the picture she had
discovered in a New York Sunday
Supplement.
Hamilton Gregory was clean-shaved
except for silken reddish mustache;
his complexion was fair, his hair a
shade between red and brown, his
eyes blue. His finely marked face
and striking bearing we're stamped
with distinction and grace.
1t was strange to Fran that he did
not once glance in her direction.
True, there was nothing in her ap-
pearance to excite especial attention,
but she had looked forward to meet
Ing him ever since she could remem-
Der. Now that her eyes were fast
ened on his face, now that they were
30 near, sheltered by a common roof.
how could he help feeling her pres
ence?
The choir-leader rose and lifted his
baton. At his back the hundred men
and women obeyed the signal, while
hymn-books fluttered open throughout
he congregation. Suddenly the leader
Of the choir started into galvanic life.
He led the song with his sweet voice.
MS swaying body, his frantic baton,
MS wild arms, his imperious feet
With all that there was of him, he
conducted the melodious charge upon |
he ramparts of sin and indifference. |
4 in repose Fran had thought him
handsome and attractive. |
the now found him inspiring. His
blue eyes burned with exaltation while |
lis magic voice seemed to thrill with |
more than human ecstasy.
On the left, the heavy bass was
singing,
Zone thing We know,
Wherever we go
We reap what we SOW,
We reap what We SOW"
While these words were being doled
tut at long and impressive intervals,
ike the tolling of heavy bell, more
han half hundred soprano voices
we're hastily getting in their requisite
lumber Of halfnotes. thus
SO scatter little. scatter little. scatter
scatter little,
Scatter little seeds Of kindness.s
In spite Of the vast volume of
ound produced by these voices, as
veil as by the accompaniment Of two
'ianos and snare-drun,. the voice of
Gregory. soaring flute-like
oward heaven, seemed to dart
through the interstices of rests" to
bread its slender way along infinites-
nal curves of silence. As one list
ned, II was the inspired truth as ut
cred by Hamilton Gregory that
rought the message home to con-
cience. AS IL one had never before
cen told that one reaps what one
ows, uneasy memory started out of