In the meantime he was working himself up to another mighty climax of exhortation to move sinners to come forward. “Come on ter glory you po, po sinners, en flee ter de Lamb er God befo de flames er hell swaller you whole! At de last great day de Sperit ’ll flash de light er his shinin’ face on dis ole parch up sinful worl’, en hit ’ll ketch er fire in er minute, an de yearth ’ll melt wid furvient heat! Whar ’ll you be den po tremblin’ sinner? Whar ’ll you be when de flame er de Sperit smites de moon and de stars wid fire, en dey gin ter drap outen de sky en knock big holes in de burnin’ yearth? Whar ’ll you be when de rocks melt wid dat heat, en de sun hide his face in de black smoke dat rise fum de pit?” Moans and groans and shrieks, louder and louder filled the air. Uncle Josh paused a moment and looked for his deacons with the straw. They were just coming up the steps with a great armful over their heads. “What’s de matter wid you breddern! Fetch on dat wheat straw! Here’s dese tremblin’ souls gwine down inter de flames er hell des fur de lak er wheat straw!” The brethren hurried forward with the wheat straw, and just as they reached Uncle Josh standing perspiring in the midst of his groaning mourners, Dick flashed from the gallery a stream of dazzling light on the old man’s face and held it steadily on his bald head. Josh was too astonished to move at first. He was simply paralysed with fear. It was all right to talk about the flame of the Spirit, but he wasn’t exactly ready to run into it. Suddenly he clapped his hands on the top of his head and sprang straight up in the air yelling in a plain everyday profane voice, “God-der-mighty! What’s dat?” The brethren holding the straw saw it and stood dumb with terror. The light disappeared from Uncle Josh’s head and lit the straw in splendour on one of the deacon’s shoulders. Aunt Mary’s voice was heard above the mourners’ din, clear, shrill and soul piercing. “G-l-o-r-y! G-l-o-r-y ter God! De flame er de Sperit! De judgment day! Yas Lawd, I’se here! Glory! Halleluyah!” Suddenly the straw on the deacon’s back burst into flames! And pandemonium broke loose. A weak-minded sinner screamed, “De flames er Hell!” The mourners smelled the smoke and sprang from the floor with white staring eyes. When they saw the fire and got their bearings they made for the open,--they jumped on each others’ back and made for the door like madmen. Those nearest the windows sprang through, and when the lower part of the window was jammed, big buck negroes jumped on the backs of the lower crowd and plunged through the two upper sashes with a crash that added new terror to the panic. In two minutes the church was empty, and the yard full of crazy, shouting negroes.