FOLKS FROM DIXIE
a heap o' 'Lias, we does; but —" the old man had subsided, but he bristled up again at the word—"he ain't jes' whut we want him to be." Her husband opened his mouth as if to speak in defence of his son, but was silent in satisfaction at his wife's explanation: "'Lias ain't bad; he jes' ca'less. Sometimes he stays at home, but right sma't o' de time he stays down at"—she looked at her husband and hesitated—"at de colo'ed s'loon. We don't lak dat. It ain't no fitten place fu' him. But 'Lias ain't bad, he jes' ca'less, an' me an' de ol' man we 'membahs him in ouah pra'ahs, an' I jes' t'ought I'd ax you to 'membah him too, Brothah Dokesbury."
The minister felt the old woman's pleading look and the husband's intense gaze upon his face, and suddenly there came to him an intimate sympathy in their trouble and with it an unexpected strength.
"There is no better time than now," he said, "to take his case to the Almighty Power; let us pray."
Perhaps it was the same prayer he had prayed many times before; perhaps the words of supplication and the plea for light and guidance
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