In a little church in Cincinnati one night last week sat 80 pious Negroes and whites. On the platform stood a man singing in a slow, quavering tenor: "Wha-at a friend we ha-ave in Jesus. ..." Near him were half a dozen men and women whose features rhythmically moved in quickly-changing contortions. Their arms rose and fell, their fingers wiggling in concerted movement. Only sound in the church was the creaky tenor voice. When the hymn ended, the gesticulations of the half dozen people ended and the audience So deaf-mutesbroke into spirited...
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