"Fo' a spell," continued the chairman, "t'ings went on suspiciously
enough. Sist' Humphreys be'n an edicated lady; an' she is a plumb good
cook. Her preachin' didn't be'n whut we-all air longin' to heah; nare
shakin' of de soul ovah de mouf of hell, nare mo'nin', nare revivals;
but we hilt our peace, an' Zion attendid regular, an' las' socherable
gatherin' there be'n nigh a hunderd, big an' little, presint--"
"And she gave us all cake and candy and lemonade with ice in it!" a
woman's mellow voice called out.
The heads of the congregation went round in the direction of the voice,
and a large number of rolling black eyes stared at the school-teacher,
whose comely brown face showed that deepening of tint which is the same
as an Anglo-Saxon's blush. "Teacher" had been educated at Tuskegee and
was suspected of being "biggity."
The chairman gave her a gloomy nod. "No doubt, my sistah, no doubt
hankerin' ayfter de flesh-pots of Egypt done fotch _some_ po' sinnahs t'
de altar. I ain't complainin' of de carnil an' carniferous food she done
give us, but of de spitichul nu'ishment. I nev' did see a mo'ner rollin'
on dis flo' w'ilst Sist Humphreys be'n yere. We-all be'n thirstin' an'
famishin' fo' a good ol'-time revival. But we enjured ontwel one day de
glory come on Br'er Pope, an' he hollered,--tryin' to lif' us all
up,--Amen! Amen! Let de sinner quit sinnin' an' he _shill_ be saved!'
An' dat ar woman she call out: 'Yes; _let_ 'im quit sinnin'! Let 'im
quit sellin' of aigs to de sto' w'en he don't be keepin' only one hen!'
Dat ar remark incinerated false an' wicked notions 'bout Unc' Alick
Pope, who lives nigh de cunnel's chicken-yard." (A solitary giggle
from the shoolmistress.) "She done fa'ly r'ar an' charge 'bout
chicken-stealin'. Dat ain't promote edderfication nor good feelin'."
(Groans of assent from a deeply interested audience.) "But nex'
Sabbath come wuss. She done announce she be'n 'lowin' to preach us a
serious discourse on de Ten Commandmints. Well, we-all done look dem
commandmints up an' study on dem a heap. We felt tol'able secure on de
Fust an' Second, she lumpin' dem togedder fo' one out at preachin'; an'
we sat back easy, hopin' fo' grace an' true religion; but she jes slued
roun' on to conjure-cha'ms an' such, invagin' ag'in' dem twell we got
all de devotional feelin' plumb squoze outen us. Third Commandmint we
natchelly didn't expec' no harm of; but ayfter de fust godly words 'bout
profane sw'arin', ef she didn't git on to false sw'arin' befo' the gran'
jury, 'bout crap-shootin', en git us all terrible oncomfortable. Nex'
command she didn't be'n sound on, sayin' a heap 'bout washin' up in tubs
Sattiddy nights, an' tew little 'bout de spitichul ovservation of the
holy day; an' come down hard on a respectid brother who sayd once, 'I
isn't to wash in winter'; an' sayd bad wuds 'bout sisters dat went
visitin' Sattiddy evenin's, stidder washin' up ready fo' de holy day;
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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