I
think John's imagination was worked upon by the sweet and mournful
hymns that were discordantly sung in the stiff old parlors. There
was a suggestion of Sunday, and sanctity too, in the odor of
caraway-seed that pervaded the room. The windows were wide open also,
and the scent of June roses came in, with all the languishing sounds
of a summer night. All the little boys had a scared look, but the
little girls were never so pretty and demure as in this their
susceptible seriousness. If John saw a boy who did not come to the
evening meeting, but was wandering off with his sling down the meadow,
looking for frogs, maybe, that boy seemed to him a monster of
wickedness.
After a time, as the meetings continued, John fell also under the
general impression of fright and seriousness. All the talk was of
"getting religion," and he heard over and over again that the
probability was if he did not get it now, he never would. The chance
did not come often, and if this offer was not improved, John would be
given over to hardness of heart.
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