Them colored folks pulls on an'
pulls off their beliefs as easy as a Mexican. An' their faith never
gets in their way; them tenets never seems to get between their
hocks an' trip 'em up in anythin' they wants to do. They goes
rangin' 'round, draggin' them religious lariats of theirs, an' I
never yet beholds that church which can drive any picket pin of
doctrines, or prodooce any hobbles of a creed, that'll hold a
Mexican or a nigger, or keep him from prancin' out after the first
notion that nods or beckons to him. Thar's no whim an' no fancy
which can make so light a wagon-track he won't follow it off.
"Speakin' of churches that a-way: This yere Tom's been with me
years. One day about two months ago, he fronts up to me an' says:
"'I'se got to be mighty careful what I does now; I'se done j'ined. I
gives my soul to heaven on high last night, an' wrops myse'f tight
an' fast in bonds of savin' grace wid d' Presbyter'an chu'ch. Yes,
sah, I'm a christian, an' I don't want no one, incloodin' mysc'f, to
go forgettin' it.'
"This yere news don't weigh on me partic'lar, an' I makes no
comments. It's three weeks later when Tom cuts loose another
commoonication.
"'You rec'llects,' he says, 'about me bein' a j'iner an' hookin' up
wid d' Presbyter'ans? Well, I'se done shook 'em; I quit that
sanchooary for d' Mefodis.
Pages:
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349