And when the next Sunday evening came around, all
of the little darkies, with their heads combed and their Sunday
clothes on, assembled for the Sunday-school. The white children begged
so hard to go too, that finally Mammy consented to take them. So when
Uncle Snake-bit Bob walked into the gin-house, their eager little
faces were among those of his pupils. "Niw, you all sot down," said
Uncle Rob, "an' 'have yerse'fs till I fix yer in er line."
Having arranged them to his satisfaction, he delivered to them a short
address, setting forth the object of the meeting, and his intentions
concerning them. "Chil'en," he began, "I fotch yer hyear dis ebenin
fur ter raise yer like yer ought ter be riz. De folks deze days is er
gwine ter strucshun er dancin' an' er pickin' uv banjers an' er
singin' uv reel chunes an' er cuttin' up uv ev'y kin' er dev'lment. I
ben er watchin' 'em; an', min' yer, when de horn hit soun' fur de jes'
ter rise, half de niggers gwine ter be wid de onjes'. An' I 'low ter
myse'f dat I wuz gwine ter try ter save de chil'en. I gwine ter pray
fur yer, I gwine ter struc yer, an' I gwine do my bes' ter lan' yer in
hebn. Now yer jes pay tenshun ter de strucshun I gwine give yer--
dat's all I ax uv yer-- an' me an' de Lord we gwine do de res'.
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