"While I was a-turnin' ober in my min' de subjec' ob dis sarmon, dere
come ter me a bit ob Scripter wot I heerd at a big preachin' an'
baptizin' at Kyarter's Mills, 'bout ten year' ago. One ob de preachers
was a-tellin' about ole mudder Ebe a-eatin' de apple, and says he: De
sarpint fus' come along wid a red apple, an' says he: 'You gib dis yer
to your husban', an' he think it so mighty good dat when he done eat
it he gib you anything you ax him fur, ef you tell him whar de tree
is.' Ebe, she took one bite, an' den she frew dat apple away. 'Wot you
mean, you triflin' sarpint,' says she, 'a fotchin' me dat apple wot
ain't good fur nuffin but ter make cider wid?' Den de sarpint he go
fotch her a yaller apple, an' she took one bite, an' den says she: 'Go
'long wid ye, you fool sarpint, wot you fotch me dat June apple wot
ain't got no taste to it?' Den de sarpint he think she like sumpin'
sharp, an' he fotch her a green apple. She takes one bite ob it, an'
den she frows it at his head, an' sings out: 'Is you 'spectin' me to
gib dat apple to yer Uncle Adam an' gib him de colic?' Den de debbil
he fotch her a lady-apple, but she say she won't take no sich triflin'
nubbins as dat to her husban', an' she took one bite ob it, an' frew
it away. Den he go fotch her two udder kin' ob apples, one yaller
wid red stripes, an' de udder one red on one side an' green on de
udder--mighty good-lookin' apples, too--de kin' you git two dollars a
bar'l fur at the store. But Ebe, she wouldn't hab neider ob 'em, an'
when she done took one bite out ob each one, she frew it away. Den de
ole debbil-sarpint, he scratch he head, an' he say to hese'f: 'Dis yer
Ebe, she pow'ful 'ticklar 'bout her apples. Reckin I'll have ter wait
till after fros', an' fotch her a real good one,' An' he done wait
till after fros', and then he fotch her a' Albemarle pippin, an' when
she took one bite ob dat, she jus' go 'long an' eat it all up, core,
seeds, an' all. 'Look h'yar, sarpint,' says she, 'hab you got anudder
ob dem apples in your pocket?' An' den he tuk one out, an' gib it to
her. ''Cuse me,' says she, 'I's gwine ter look up Adam, an' ef he don'
want ter know war de tree is wot dese apples grow on, you can hab him
fur a corn-field han'.'
"An' now, my dear brev'ren," said Brother Peter, "while I was
a-turnin' dis subjec' ober in my min', an' wonderin' how de women
come ter hab jus' seben debbils apiece, I done reckerleck dat bit ob
Scripter wot I heerd at Kyarter's Mills, an' I reckon dat 'splains how
de debbils got inter woman. De sarpint he done fotch mudder Ebe seben
apples, an' ebery one she take a bite out of gib her a debbil."
As might have been expected, this sermon produced a great sensation,
and made a deep impression on the congregation. As a rule, the men
were tolerably well satisfied with it; and when the services were over
many of them made it the occasion of shy but very plainly pointed
remarks to their female friends and relatives.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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