LAND LAID WASTE
I HAVE TRIED to remember something about the lady who appeared one Sunday as teacher of the junior boys' class at the Newnan Baptist Church. She was a visitor to the town, I think, impressed suddenly into service that late summer morning, for I do not remember that I saw her again. Sometimes she seems to have been a rather large person dressed in black, with a pink cameo brooch at her throat. At other times, my memory describes her as older and slighter and more fragile, and the cameo brooch on the neat black taffeta frock is white as her hair. She is remembered because her voice was somehow an impressive and resonant whisper when she read to the junior boys' class about how Moses encountered the Presence in the Burning Bush. That whisper accompanies the passage whenever I read it now: "Put off thy shoes from off thy feet, for the earth whereon thou standest is holy ground."
The logical processes of childhood are as convolute as those of an adult, and the imagination of childhood can erect hypotheses