Befo’ preachin’ I gib notice dat Miss Henrietta gwine ter gib uh cake-walk Chris’mus night ter all de serbents ’ceppin’ Scipio Jones. Dar will also be uh feas’ in de brick kitchen arfter de walk. De ’freshments will be uh cake ub figs, two clustahs ub resins, harf bushel ub kisses, pancakes, an’ uh keg ub molasses. Some sistuh at de rebate ax Aunt Phillis how she cook pancakes. She ’ques’ me ter say: “Three eggs bet up light, wid uh pint ub milk an’ uh pint ub flower, den add uh tablespoonful ub butter an’ lard, den cook, _de mo’ carelesser de better_.” All de chillun dat got bladders hog killin’ time an’ kep’ ’em, kin bus’ ’em Chris’mus night arfter de cake-walk. Mollie Jones will also hab her two chillun chrissin. She qualify me futto say de names chusin will be Scipio Jonas Jones an’ Nimrod. De c’lection lars’ Sunday wuz 83 cents. Aunt Phillis wuz sick wid de rumatiz an’ wan’ heah. She ’ques’ me ter gib notice when she cum she will gib uh levy—dat will make 95½ cents. De deacons has ’cided ter buy wid it, de new strain ub watermillion seeds, call de Annarandal Sweets. Dey will be put in little packs, an’ straws will be drawed fuh de packs. Da will be uh fes-ti-val in de meetin’ house nex’ monf. De money made will be tuck ter buy uh kyarpet to go ’roun’ de pulpit. Some ub de brudders fum Kyarline has promis’ twelve gourds, uh new kine wid curled handles, one bushel ub sweet potatar slips, eight ’possums, an’ fo’ new mus’rat gums. I am charm ter say de deacons has secur’d fum Mr. Plummer fuh 25 cents uh monf de priblig ub babtizin’ in de Wye Mills dam, ’ceppin in de winter, _jes’ befo’ dey cut ice_. You will find meh tex’ in de 63 Sam, 6 Vus, writ by King Dabid when he wuz in de wilderness ub Juda an’ hidin’ hissef in de mountain ub Zip. “When I recommember de ’pon meh bed, an’ meddowtate on de in de night watches.” Sistus, brudders an’ little chillun, we might fill dis chuch full ub some ub Mars Nickey’s craps, cawn, oats, wheat, hay, fodder, an’ buckwheat, an’ fill de corners wid spider’s webs, wasp nesses, mouse beds an’ sich like, hab de chuch jam full, an’ ubcose when it full it kyant be any fuller, den dey wud hab ter go ter de bawn; but dat what dey call mem’ry require no bawn. It can be packed jes’ like dis chuch, ev’y crack filled, ev’y little hole chinked, an’ yit da wud be plenty ub room. Ef’n yo’ mem’ry wuz chock full ub all de chunes in de Zion hymbook, an’ uh camp meetin’ cum wid 500 new hyms, dat mem’ry wud right straight meck uh place fuh dem chunes an’ teck ’em in widout crowdin’ anything. Ef’n de Angel Gabrul wuz ter meet you, an’ gib you ’struction fuh uh week, an’ say: “I miricle you ter recommember all dis Scriptur’,” dat strange thing called mem’ry wud in uh moment make room, de mos’ triflin’ thing wud not be ’sturbed. Oh! it’s uh pow’ful thing, mem’ry. “When I recommember de ’pon meh bed”—dat’s de application. What wud we do widoutin mem’ry? [Illustration: MARS PINCKNEY’S HOME. “FAUSLEY.” ]