The bells of thirty churches were calling the people to
the different places of worship. Crowds were seen wending
their way to the houses of God; one followed by a negro boy
carrying his master's Bible; another followed by her maid-servant
holding the mistress' fan; a third supporting an umbrella
over his master's head to shield him from the burning sun.
Baptists immersed, Presbyterians sprinkled, Methodists shouted,
and Episcopalians read their prayers, while ministers
of the various sects preached that Christ died for all.
The chiming of the bells seemed to mock the sighs and deep groans
of the forty human beings then incarcerated in the slave-pen.
These imprisoned children of God were many of them Methodists,
some Baptists, and others claiming to believe in the faith
of the Presbyterians and Episcopalians.
Oh, with what anxiety did these creatures await the close of that Sabbath,
and the dawn of another day, that should deliver them from those dismal
and close cells. Slowly the day passed away, and once more the evening
breeze found its way through the barred windows of the prison that contained
these injured sons and daughters of America.
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