The Reign of Law; a tale of the Kentucky hemp fields by James Lane Allen
page 87 of 245 (35%)
page 87 of 245 (35%)
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"Do you not even believe in God?"
The lad stood up, he whose life until these months had been a prayer, whose very slumbers had been worship. He stood up, from some impulse--perhaps the respectful habit of rising when addressed in class by this professor. At first he made no reply, but remained looking over the still heads of his elders into that low red sunset sky. How often had he beheld it, when feeding the stock at frozen twilights. One vision rose before him now of his boyhood life at home--his hopes of the ministry--the hemp fields where he had toiled--his father and mother waiting before the embers this moment, mindful of him. He recalled how often, in the last year, he had sat upon his bedside at midnight when all were asleep, asking himself that question:-- "Do I believe in God?" And now he was required to lay bare what his young soul had been able to do with that eternal mystery. He thrust his big coarse hand into his breast-pocket and drew out a little red morocco Testament which had been given him when he was received into the congregation. He opened it at a place where it seemed used to lie apart. He held it before his face, but could not read. At last, controlling himself, he said to them with dignity, and with the common honesty which was the life of him:-- "I read you a line which is the best answer I can give just now to your last question." |
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