The writer witnessed Uncle Robin’s baptism in Sulphur Fork Creek, near Mount Zion Church; there were eighty candidates for baptism, and Uncle Horace had his son Altheus to perform the sacred rite. On account of Uncle Robin’s advanced age, and a very remarkable experience he had related the day he joined the church, he seemed to be a central figure of the occasion, and all eyes were turned on him, as he stood trembling at the water’s edge, pleading, “Now Brer Carr, be perticular, and _don’t_ you _drown_ me!” “Be quiet Brother Northington,” he said in his characteristic dignified tone, “by the help of the Lord I will take you safely through; Brother Edwards and Brother Baldry are here to assist me and you need not fear.” It was soon over, and his nervousness gave place to rejoicing. I don’t think I ever heard sweeter singing than went up from hundreds of colored worshippers on the hillsides surrounding Mount Zion Church, that lovely Sabbath morning, October, 1875. CHAPTER VII. “IT’S A GRAND THING TO MAKE SOMETHING OUT OF THE LIFE GOD HATH GIVEN US, BUT IT IS GRANDER STILL, TO REACH THE GREAT END OVER GREAT DIFFICULTIES.” James William Carr, the twelfth, and next to the youngest child of Uncle Horace, and Aunt Kitty, attained distinction both as a lecturer and a minister. A Tennessean by birth, and a Georgian by Providence, he died in the midst of his usefulness at Savannah, Ga., August 25, 1907. In his youth, he professed religion and joined Mount Zion during his father’s pastorate of the church. His early educational advantages were poor, but he was ambitious, and lost no opportunity for mental improvement. Rev. William Carr was tall, and bright colored, having his mother’s refined features, and his father’s good physique. A blend of both parents in looks, and Christian principles. That he was appreciative, the following letter received by the writer, a short time before his death, will show: SAVANNAH, GA., May 13, 1907. “_Mrs. J. F. Miller_--Kind Friend: Today my thoughts go back to the scenes of my boyhood, away back in the 70’s, when I worked for your father. How well do I remember the day he hired me, and carried me home behind him, on a big sorrel horse he called Charlie. “I had never lived with white people, and Mother Kitty did not think I would be satisfied, but I was, and stayed several months, going home every Saturday evening. “I date my start in life to the study table in your father’s family room at night, around which I was not only permitted the use of books, but was also instructed in them. “One day I ventured to ask you to set me some copies, in a rude copy book I had pinned together of foolscap paper. You asked if I wanted words, or sentences. I was embarrassed, for I did not know the difference, and you set both.