Right about then this here U. S. G. Petty, which they calls him 'Lisses for short, speaks up. Until now he has been reared back in his chair listening, the same as I is. But now he opens up and his words hits them onthusiastic ones like a dipperful of ice-water throwed in their faces. He says to 'em, he says: "W'en does all you niggers 'at's so homesick fur the sight of the dear Affikin shore aims to start on yore jubilatin' way? I is heared a lot tonight an' other times, too, 'bout this yere journey. I is heared it called a crusade an' a pilgrimage an' a whole passel of other fancy names. But so fur, nobody ain't confided to me the details of the departure." "The fust batch goes ez soon ez the fust boat is ready," says one of the true believers, name of Oscar Jordan. "An' the rest will follow wid rejoicin' on the other boats of the fleet, ez they is made ready." "Well, me, I ain't seen hair nur hide of one boat yit," says 'Lisses, "let alone it's a whole fleet." "But ain't you seen the pitcher of her in the litrychure w'ich the Black Prophet give out?" says Oscar. "I has, Brother," says 'Lisses; "I suttinly has. I also has seen pitchers of the late Kaiser Ex-Wilhellum of Germany, but that ain't no sign I 'spects to meet him strollin' up Lenox Avenue some pleasant mawnin' this comin' week." "Yas, but the bindin' paymints is done been made on the fust ship," says Oscar. "The Grand Treasurer, w'ich he is the Black Prophet's brother-in-law by marriage, he announce' the full perticulars at the las' monster mass meetin'. He specify she is to have a cullid brass-band on bode an' a cullid string-band an' a cullid crew an' a cullid cap'n an'----" "Uh huh!" says 'Lisses, "A cullid cap'n, huh? All right, boy, you kin give yore confidences to a cullid cap'n ef you's a-mind to. But, speakin' ez yore friend an' well-wisher I should advise you at the same time w'en you is pickin' out your fav'rit' cullid cap'n 'at you lakwise also picks out yore fav'rit' flower fur display at the memorial services in case of a storm comin' up on the way acrost the high seas. 'Cause," he says, "it stands to reason the higher them seas is the deeper they is; an' ef you gits yo'se'f drownded out yonder it'll be a tho'ough job. Mind you," he says, "I ain't sayin' nothin' agin my own race so long ez they remains whar they natchelly belongs, w'ich is on the solid ground. But ef I'm goin' journey acros't the broad Newlantic Ocean I craves me a w'ite cap'n--yas, an' a w'ite crew, too." One or two, including this here Oscar, tries to break in on him but he keeps right on. He says to 'em, he says: