When we gittin’ our heb’nly trunk packed, an’ when we trabblin’ up ter St. Peter’s gait, I kin see Uncle Reubin, Aunt Phillis, Uncle Stephen, Aunt Sookey, Rasmus Jemes, Damon Danridge, Pawson Phil Demby an’ Mammy Nancy trottin’ ’long de road in de beauty ub holiness, goin’ ter St. Peter’s gait an’ longin’ ter git deah han’s on de gait futto ring dat bell. An’ I kin see Little Billy (be sho’ an’ pray fuh him, Sistus; ef’n coons, ’possums, fiddles an’ banjos had nebba ’zisted, he wudn’ be uh sinnah)—yas, I kin see Little Billy stan’in’ wid Jasper pullin’ dat bell tell he mos’ breck de wire, an’ pester St. Peter so dat he say, “Who dat tryin’ ter breck meh bell?” Den de bell wen’ jing-uh-ling ergin! Den St. Peter ’mejately stuck he lubly haid ober de gate an’ say, “Gwuffum heah, Little Billy; you ain’ bin ’nointed. Yon got ter lib wid dem you likes ter keep cump’ny wid; fuh instinc’, witches, ghoses, jack-uh-ma-lanterns an’ de chillun in de wilderness ub Zip!” You kin ’magine how po’ Billy’s face look—much mo’ sadder dan Scip Jones’ look at de cake-walk lars’ Chris’mus; an’ when St. Peter smile same ez uh serrypin an’ say, “Heah cum meh chillun; walk in de watah, fuh hit’s al’ays wahm; let me babtiz you in de golden ribba,” Billy wuz so ’stressed dat he kicked Jasper an’ say, “Hit’s all yo’ fault; ef’n you wan’ sech uh good coon dog I’d nebba bin led ’stray.” Now, dis will cum ter pars: When St. Peter sees Aunt Phillis an’ Uncle Reubin cummin’ ’long he will say, jes’ ez sho’ ez judgmen’ day is cummin’, “Cherrypins an’ serrypins, an’ Ham, de cullud son ub Noahy, bresh de dust fum two ub de bes’ seats in de Lawd’s kitchen fuh dem two saints, an’ tell ’em we gwine ter hab uh festibal!” I wan’ Ham ter set ’long side you an’ pint out Samuel de fus’, an’ secon’, Moses, King Dabid, King Fario, Zackeus de climber, an’ lars’, but not leas’, Ho Ho, an’ you’ll see fum he habin’ whiskus he ain’ no Chine er Japne. Den de profit Noahy will renounce dat King Dabid an’ he son, King Sol’mon, gwine ter sing uh jewette togedda—King David, ub cose, playin’ on his hyarp ub uh thousan’ strings; an’ I ’specks dat sweetes’ son ub Noahy, Ham, will play de banjo. Bless meh soul an’ body, an’ meh body an’ soul, belubbed, what uh festibal hit will be! Sistus, I kin see ’em all. Tilly Mink: “Yas, Brer Rasmus, all clustah’d ’roun’ de pul-pit.” John Poney: “Kin you see me, Brer Rasmus?”