They shrugged their shoulders sometimes at the mention of his parish at "The Cedars;" they regarded him as old-fashioned and unpractical.

They sat conscience-stricken and abashed now; the tears of these bereaved black people smote their philosophy and their worldliness, and showed them how shallow they were.

Tears answered to tears, and the college professors and the negro slaves wept together.
"They have nobody left to love them now," exclaimed one of the youngest and hitherto most cynical of Parson Dorrance's colleagues, as he stood watching the grief-stricken creatures.
While the procession formed to bear the body to the grave, the blacks stood in a group on the church-steps, watching it.

After the last carriage had fallen into line, they hurried down and followed on in the storm.

In vain some kindly persons tried to dissuade them.