“To hear of the degradation of the colored people of the South is to know but little of it, for ‘the half can ne’er be told.’ It is humiliating to think that in our own beloved land there exists so much of barbarism and heathenish superstition. This is realized by looking at the homes and home-life of the poor people, but much more by noticing their form of religion. “I had visited lowly cots and abodes of poverty, seeming devoid of even the bare necessaries of life. Sometimes, in one small house several families huddled together, the little ones swarming in the yard like bees from the hive on a sunny day. I had seen poor sewing women trying to earn a bare subsistence—trying to keep by that little weapon, the needle, the wolf from the door. And I had thought what must life be worth to such suffering ones? And yet the degradation of this poor people never came to me with such force as when, for the first time, I entered a colored church, and witnessed scenes such as I had heard of, but never could realize without _seeing_. “The meeting was in progress when we entered, many talking or standing ready for a chance to be heard, others jumping and clapping their hands. One man, who gesticulated fiercely and screamed hoarsely, exhorted the brethren and sisters to ‘look out for the devil—he’s after yer—he’ll run yer inter the briers, but yer mus’ put on yer shoes—he’ll knock yer down, but yer mus’ get up an’ run, an’ put on yer shoes.’ Finally, in his frenzy, we could distinguish nothing except, in broken utterances, ‘put on yer shoes! put on yer shoes! put on yer shoes!’ amid the shouts of laughter and cheers which urged him on, coming chiefly from the female portion of the audience. He at length sat down exhausted, when a woman rose in mid-air, with a wild scream, coming down head-foremost, while all around were others shouting or jumping up and down. This, with variations, continued amidst quavering, weird music, the big cape bonnets bobbing to and fro, keeping time. At length the minister, who seemed to prefer order, wished to close the meeting, when immediately the people began to disperse, he calling to them to keep their places until after the benediction should be given, but they paid no heed. Whereupon he proceeded to lecture them on this wise: ‘If I were at one of your houses and should take my hat and leave without saying good day, you would think it was a piece of very ill politeness,’—and more to the same effect; but the tide not being stayed, he called upon a fine-looking young man to pronounce the benediction, which he did with such an air of ease and grace as contrasted strangely with all the surroundings, and I turned away in silent wonder at him, as being one of such a crowd. I never felt so truly thankful for a better way that is opened to them, and that even a few are struggling to elevate themselves,—are found sitting ‘clothed and in their right mind,’ learning truth.