In an open space near the quarters the negroes had kindled a fire, although the night was mild. These children of the sun love warmth and all that is cheerful and bright, their emotions appearing to kindle more readily with the leaping flames. When Miss Lou and Scoville approached, the worshippers were just concluding the hymn heard on the piazza. From the humble cabins stools, benches, rickety chairs, and nondescript seats made from barrels, had been brought and placed in a circle close about the fire. These were occupied by the elderly and infirm. Uncle Lusthah, whose name had been evolved from Methuselah, was the evident leader of the meeting, and Miss Lou whispered to her attendant, "He's the recognized preacher among them, and I believe he tries to live up to his ideas of right." "Then I'll listen to him very respectfully," said Scoville. Their advent created quite a commotion, and not a few were inclined to pay court to the "Linkum ossifer." All who had seats rose to offer them, but Scoville smiled, shook his head and waved them back. Uncle Lusthah immediately regained attention by shouting, "Look at me": then, "Now look up. Who we uns befo'? De King. De gret Jehovah. Bow yo' haids humble; drap yo' eyes. Tek off de shoon fum yo' feet lak Moses w'en he gwine neah de bunin' bush. Young mars'r en young mistis standin' dar 'spectful. Dey knows dat ef de gret Linkum yere hissef, Linkum's Lawd en Mars'r yere befo' 'im. Let us all gib our 'tention ter 'Im who's brung 'liverance ter Israel at las'. We gwine troo de Red Sea ob wah now en des whar de promis' lan' is we got ter fin' out, but we hab tu'ned our backs on ole Egypt en we ain' gwine back no mo'. Brudren en sistas, you'se yeard a Gospil, a good news, dis eb'nin' sho. You'se yeard you free, bress de Lawd! I'se been waitin' fer dis news mo' yeahs den I kin reckermember, but dey's come 'fo' my ole haid's under de sod. Hit's all right dat we is glad en sing aloud for joy, but we orter rejice wid trem'lin'. De 'sponsibil'ties ob freedom is des tremenjus. Wat you gwine ter do wid freedom? Does you tink you kin git lazy en thievin' en drunken? Is dere any sech foolishness yere? Will eny man or ooman call deysefs free w'en dey's slabes ter some mean, nasty vice? Sech folks al'ays be slabes, en dey orter be slabes ter a man wid a big whip. See how de young mars'r' haves dat brung de news ob freedom. He know he juty en he does hit brave. He mek de w'ite sogers he 'mands des toe de mark. We got ter toe a long, wi'te mark. We ain' free ter do foolishness no mo' dan he en he men is. De gret Linkum got he eye on you; de Cap'n ob our salvation got He eye on you. Now I des gib you some 'structions," and happy it would have been for the freedmen--for their masters and deliverers also, it may be added--if all had followed Uncle Lusthah's "'structions."