One woman near us continued to "call on the Lord," as it is
termed, in the loudest possible tone, and without a moment's
interval, for the two hours that we kept our dreadful station.
She became frightfully hoarse, and her face so red as to make
me expect she would burst a blood-vessel. Among the rest of
her rant, she said, "I will hold fast to Jesus, I never will
let him go; if they take me to hell, I will still hold him fast,
fast, fast!"
The stunning noise was sometimes varied by the preachers
beginning to sing; but the convulsive movements of the poor
maniacs only became more violent. At length the atrocious
wickedness of this horrible scene increased to a degree of
grossness, that drove us from our station; we returned to the
carriage at about three o'clock in the morning, and passed
the remainder of the night in listening to the ever increasing
tumult at the pen. To sleep was impossible. At daybreak the
horn again sounded, to send them to private devotion; and in
about an hour afterwards I saw the whole camp as joyously
and eagerly employed in preparing and devouring their most
substantial breakfasts as if the night had been passed in
dancing; and I marked many a fair but pale face, that I
recognised as a demoniac of the night, simpering beside a
swain, to whom she carefully administered hot coffee and
eggs. The preaching saint and the howling sinner seemed alike
to relish this mode of recruiting their strength.
After enjoying abundance of strong tea, which proved a
delightful restorative after a night so strangely spent, I
wandered alone into the forest, and I never remember to have
found perfect quiet more delightful.
Pages:
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178