' D' Presbyter'an is a heap too gloomy a
religion for a niggah, sah. Dey lams loose at me wid foreord'nation
an' preedest'nation, an' how d' bad place is paved wid chil'ens
skulls, an' how so many is called, an' only one in a billion beats
d' gate; an' fin'lly, las' Sunday, B'rer Peters, he's d' preacher,
he ups an' p'ints at me in speshul an' says he sees in a dream how
I'm b'ar-hung an' breeze-shaken over hell; an', sah, he simply scare
dis niggah to where I jest lay down in d' pew an' howl. After I'se
done lamented till my heart's broke, I passes in my resignation, an'
now I'se gone an' done attach myse'f to d' Mefodis'. Thar's a deal
mo' sunshine among d' Mefodis' folks, an' d' game's a mighty sight
easier. All you does is get sprunkled, an' thar you be, in wid d'
sheep, kerzip!'
"In less'n a month Tom opens up on them religious topics once more.
I allers allows him to talk as long an' as much as ever he likes, as
you-all couldn't stop him none without buckin' an' gaggin' him, so
what's the use?
"'I aims to excuse myse'f to you, sah,' says Tom this last time,
'for them misstatements about me leavin' d' Presbyter'ans for d'
Mefodis.' I does do it for troo, but now I'se gone over, wool an'
weskit, to d' Baptis'.
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