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The Quickening By: Francis Lynde (1856-1930) |
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THE QUICKENING
By FRANCIS LYNDE
Author of
The Grafters,
The Master of Appleby,
etc., etc. WITH ILLUSTRATIONS
BY E.M. ASHE INDIANAPOLIS
THE BOBBS MERRILL COMPANY
PUBLISHERS Copyright 1906
Francis Lynde March PRESS OF
BRAUNWORTH & CO.
BOOKBINDERS AND PRINTERS
BROOKLYN, N.Y. To My Mother
CHAPTER PAGE I Bethesda 1 II The Cedars of Lebanon 11 III Of the Fathers Upon the Children 21 IV The Newer Exodus 25 V The Dabneys of Deer Trace 32 VI Blue Blood and Red 44 VII The Prayer of the Righteous 57 VIII The Backslider 65 IX The Race to the Swift 75 X The Shadow of the Rock 90 XI The Trumpet Call 99 XII The Iron in the Forge Fire 107 XIII A Sister of Charity 116 XIV On Jordan's Bank 124 XV Noël 140 XVI The Bubble, Reputation 145 XVII Absalom, My Son! 160 XVIII The Awakening 172 XIX Issachar 188 XX Dry Wells 201 XXI Gilgal 216 XXII Love 226 XXIII Tarred Ropes 242 XXIV The Under Depths 255 XXV The Plow in the Furrow 265 XXVI As With a Mantle 279 XXVII Swept and Garnished 294 XXVIII The Burden of Habakkuk 306 XXIX As Brutes That Perish 319 XXX Through a Glass Darkly 331 XXXI The Net of the Fowler 338 XXXII Whoso Diggeth a Pit 347 XXXIII The Wine Press of Wrath 357 XXXIV The Smoke of the Furnace 366 XXXV A Soul in Shackles 378 XXXVI Free Among the Dead 387 XXXVII Whose Yesterdays Look Backward 399
THE QUICKENING
I BETHESDA
The revival in Paradise Valley, conducted by the Reverend Silas Crafts,
of South Tredegar, was in the middle of its second week, and the
field to use Brother Crafts' own word was white to the harvest. Little Zoar, the square, weather tinged wooden church at the head of the
valley, built upon land donated to the denomination in times long past
by an impenitent but generous Major Dabney, stood a little way back from
the pike in a grove of young pines. By half past six of the June evening
the revivalist's congregation had begun to assemble. Those who came farthest were first on the ground; and by the time
twelve year old Thomas Jefferson, spatting barefooted up the dusty pike,
had reached the church house with the key, there was a goodly sprinkling
of unhitched teams in the grove, the horses champing their feed noisily
in the wagon boxes, and the people gathering in little neighborhood
knots to discuss gravely the one topic uppermost in all minds the
present outpouring of grace on Paradise Valley and the region
round about. "D'ye reckon the Elder'll make it this time with his brother in law?"
asked a tall, flat chested mountaineer from the Pine Knob uplands. "Samantha Parkins, she allows that Caleb has done sinned away his day o'
grace," said another Pine Knobber, "but I ain't goin' that far. Caleb's
a sight like the iron he makes in that old furnace o' his'n honest and
even grained, and just as good for plow points and the like as it is for
soap kittles. But hot 'r cold, it's just the same; ye cayn't change hit,
and ye cayn't change him ... Continue reading book >>
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