It was a pleasant walk to church, along the road and then through the open fields. At a turn to the west the new moon shone before them, a clear bow in the deep blue sky. Hazel stopped to look at the lovely crescent; but she was recalled to earth by hearing a sharp voice call: “Where you going, Scip? Stop your mooning and help me with Zeke.” Scipio had been looking at the moon, too! She watched him with awakening sympathy as, moving past her, he picked up his little brother. As she hurried to join Granny she found herself by his side, and turning, and nodding her head toward the moon, she said in her clear, distinct voice: “It is pretty, isn’t it?” “Yes, ma’am,” said Scipio. The church was small, and when they entered the bare room was more than half filled, so they took their places near the door. The only light was furnished by two kerosene lamps, and in the corners of the room were strange shadows. As the black men and women and children continued to come the place grew crowded and the air became close and full of an uncleanly odor. “Move up, Hazel,” Granny said, for the child was at the end of the bench and there was space for one more on it. Hazel moved up reluctantly, dreading a seat-mate, but Scipio, who had been standing, slipped in at her side. She felt relieved. The minister, a portly man in a long black coat, mounted the platform and the congregation began to sing: “That old time religion, That old time religion, That old time religion, Is good enough for me.” They did not rise, but remained in their seats swaying a little back and forth. It was strange minor music. After the singing, the minister prayed and read from the Bible, and then he began to preach. He gave as his text: “Ye serpents, ye generation of vipers, how can ye escape the damnation of Hell?” He began by drawing a picture of heaven, the dwelling-place of the saints. He measured the thousand furlongs of the city; he depicted the streets of gold and the gates of pearl; he garnished the walls with chrysolite, beryl and amethyst. His voice at times was low and soft, and then suddenly it became loud and dramatic, and almost shook the little building. Hazel awoke from her absorption in his manner to note his words when he called out: “And the building of the wall was jasper.” “There,” she thought triumphantly, “I was right that day and Charity was wrong. Jasper isn’t something to eat.” She was wholly unaccustomed to hearing the congregation take a spontaneous part in the service, and was amazed at their frequent cries of “That’s so,” and “Amen.”