FOLKS FROM DIXIE
eloquent as he proceeded,—an eloquence more of tone, look, and gesture than of words. He played upon the emotions of his willing hearers, except those who had steeled themselves against his power, as a skilful musician upon the strings of his harp. At one time they were boisterously exultant, at another they were weeping and moaning, as if in the realisation of many sins. The minister himself lowered his voice to a soft rhythmical moan, almost a chant, as he said,—
"You go 'long by de road an' you see an ol' shabby tree a-standin' in de o'chud. It ain't ha'dly got a apple on it. Its leaves are put nigh all gone. You look at de branches, dey's all rough an' crookid. De tree's all full of sticks an' stones an' wiah an' ole tin cans. Hit's all bruised up an' hit's a ha'd thing to look at altogether. You look at de tree an' whut do you say in yo' hea't? You say de tree ain't no 'count, fu' 'by deir fruits shell you know dem.' But you wrong, my frien's, you wrong. Dat tree did ba' good fruit, an' by hits fruit was hit knowed. John tol' Gawge an' Gawge tol' Sam, an' evah one dat passed erlong de road had to have a shy at dat fruit. Dey be'n th'owin' at dat tree evah sence hit begun to ba' fruit, an'
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