A Rally 
As I sat by the old man—both of us very 
quiet—a perception of his great appreciation 
touched me keenly. I could discern the value 
to him, and to others in his plight, of that old 
faith in a future life which these hymns were 
celebrating. An emotion went prickling through 
me. ‘This man beside me, old and worn-out, in 
almost constant pain, with no hope in this world, 
and wondering (I am sure he had been wondering 
that day) if he would ever see another summer— 
this man was finding refreshment, and content- 
ment, in the promise the hymns repeated. It 
was almost startling. I was smitten with ad- 
miration to see how well they fitted his case. 
In an interval he murmured, “I haven’t had 
such a treat for a long time.’”’ In another interval 
he asked me, since he could not go himself, to 
peep into the next room, to see if his daughter 
“looked as if she was enjoyin’ herself,” as 
though he would wager she was and no mistake. 
Then he told me a notable thing. “I had a 
visit,’ he murmured, “‘ a week or two ago from 
a woman who was servant when was ill.” 
He named his wife, who had died of a cancer 
long ago. ‘I was glad to see her” (the some- 
time servant). ‘‘I dessay for two years, while 
was so bad, this girl ’d get up any time o’ 
night and spend half the night singing to her. 
oe a Well, knew I couldn’t sing; and the 
149 
