No; I am lis’nin’ ter ’em talk. Dear little Jona will tell erboutin’ his sea voyage; St. Peter, dat lubly ’possel, ub how many shirks he kotch an’ kilt; Little Jack-a-ass erboutin how slippery wuz de sycamo’ tree he clum; Jacob erboutin de lubly streeked, striped an’ speckled cattle he riz; Nimrod erboutin coon dogs, King Sol’mon erboutin he thorrybreds—brudderin’ I cud preach fum dis tex’ fuh uh monf an’ nebba git rejected, but I mus’ migrate ter dem dat ain’ bin ’mersed. Wha will dey be when dat sweet festibal is gwine on? Cole ez hit is—an’ dar’s fo’ back logs on de fire—I say cole ez hit is, tu cole fuh uh ’possum ter be out, yit I feel so het up fum dis discose dat I kin almos’ tase de red hot melted lead, an’ sizzlin’ brimstone dat de sinnah hab ter resis’ on. “You kyant eat uh hoe-cake but once!” so cum ter de moanah’s bench now; cum while de hoe-cake ub salbation is brown wid faith, an’ all kivver’d ober wid de graby ub redemption, an’ hab yo’ fingahs filled wid streams ub goodness. When you go befo’ St. Peter, de gre’t fisherman, he got Moses stan’in’ by he side wid dat curisome rod ub his’n.[13] Den Moses tap you on de han’ wid he rod, an’ ef’n you good yo’ fingah nails will fly back, an’ Moses will pull fum yo’ fingahs gre’t long strings ub goodness; an’ ef’n you bad, gre’t long black bad strings. Uncle Reubin Viney say dat he heah uh gre’t Mefodis’ pawson say dat Unuch, who wuz transplanted, wuz so good dat he didn’ hab any fingah nails, an’ de Mefodis’ pawson also say de reason de debbil is called Ole Scratch is kase he fingah nails long ez uh roostus spuhs.