Then he said, slowly and
impressively: "I will receive you into this diocese on one
condition: no Negro priest can sit in my church convention,
and no Negro church must ask for representation there."
I sometimes fancy I can see that tableau: the frail black
figure, nervously twitching his hat before the massive abdo-
men of Bishop Onderdonk; his threadbare coat thrown against
the dark woodwork of the bookcases, where Fox's "Lives of
the Martyrs" nestled happily beside "The Whole Duty of
Man." I seem to see the wide eyes of the Negro wander past
the Bishop's broadcloth to where the swinging glass doors of
the cabinet glow in the sunlight. A little blue fly is trying to
cross the yawning keyhole. He marches briskly up to it, peers
into the chasm in a surprised sort of way, and rubs his feelers
reflectively; then he essays its depths, and, finding it bottom-
less, draws back again. The dark-faced priest finds himself
wondering if the fly too has faced its Valley of Humiliation,
and if it will plunge into it,--when lo! it spreads its tiny
wings and buzzes merrily across, leaving the watcher wing-
less and alone.
Pages:
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295