Juniata sentinel and Republican. [volume] (Mifflintown, Juniata County, Pa.) 1873-1955, 1891-01-21
DOWN IN FLORIDA
HOW THE DARKiEs HOLD CAMP
MEETINGS.
Quaint Songs and Peculiar Ceremonies.


Quaint Songs and Peculiar Ceremonies.
The sun was sinking like great ball
Of fire in sea of pink clouds behind
the distant pines. The trunks of the
trees stood out darkly against the
bright sky, and the gray moss, tinged
with red, looked as if fairy maid had
changed its ashen hue. The only
sound to disturb the peaceful calm was
the low, plaintive tone of mocking-
bird in a tree overhead. AS we
proceeded on 'our way we emerged
from the pine woods, and crossing a
prairie we entered a dense-wooded
hummock. Now we could plainly
hear the darkies chanting, and their
melodious voices sounded soft and
clear in the distance. Following the
sound we made our way through the
woods, and finally reached clearing.
There we saw an old church ready to
fall to pieces from age and decay.
Great boards were nailed across 1t to
keep it together, and the spaces be-
tween the logs were filled with moss.
Inside the old hovel the preacher
was holding forth and a crowd of
darkies who could not find room in
side were pressing around the door to
hear him. Bad as some of them had
been during the week, lying, thieving,
stealing, yet for the time being they
were the most religious set of darkies
to be met with in that part of the
country. Long and loud were the
lamentations to the Lord for their past
lniquities and earnest were they now
in singing His praises. Some were
almost hysterical in their fervor, cry
ing and moaning to the good Lord to
make them better. Others looked
solemn, and holding their books before
them, which were in many cases up
side down, they devoutly joined in the
! chorus.
Brother Harris gave out the first
verse in deep, impressive voice, as
follows:-
Dab wah a man, he name wsh Lot,
OATS jis what de Good Book say,
An he hsb a wife, an daughter got,
OATS jis what de Good Book say.
His wife she balk, an make a halt,
AM de Lswd he tnrn her into salt,
Oh, dat's what de Good Book say.
Then came the hearty chorus:
OATS jis what de Good Book say, ii am,
Yes, dst's what de Good Book say,
Jis read it froo, you'll find it true,
Fo' dat's what de Good Book say.
With scarcely a moment for breath
Ing time Brother Harris gave out the
next verse:
Old Adsme, he wah de fust built man,
OATS what de Good Book say,
An Ebe came next, den sin began;
OATS jis what de Good Book say.
Ebe bit de apple right in two,
A berry wicked thing for Ebe to do,
But dat's what de Good Book say, it am,
OATS what de Good Book say.
/ Without any intermission Brother
Harris began another favorite song,
accompanied by various high treble
voices, with ringing variations:
Oh, long fob to reach dat heabenly sho,'
To meet ole Peter stan'in at do do'
He say to me, oh, how you dor
Come set right yondeh in de golden pew.
Dat de good solid people do go clean frcs
To dip in de golep sea.
Repeating the quaint words of the
last two lines over and over again,
they fingered lovingly on last word
'sea," ere they sang another verse, as
follows
Good Mr.. Jesus a-sittin' iu de PROV,
Come all yo' niggahs, make 20 bow,
Oh! look down on de void below
An watch dem white trash shublin' snow,
While angels fishes nip my toe
When dip in de golden sea.
Then followed the sermon, by Br'er
Harris. Poor old man, as he stood
there in their midst, shaking as if with
the palsy, his eyes rolled up heaven
ward, so that only the whites were to
be seen, his long white hair showing
his great age and his frame feeble
and bent, one could not help thinking
that his days were all but spent.
For a few moments he stood silent
before the crowd, violently swaying
his body and waving his arms franti-
cally in the air. Then, in a loud,
penetrating voice, he drew fearful
but vivid picture of the rich man in
hell, whilst Lazarus smiled COM
placenlty at his misery from "de foot
oh de great white frome." There, in
the depths Of hell, was the fallen,
sinful brother, sitting on a kissing
gridiron, the flames leaping and dart
ing round him. AS they stretch out
their long forked tongues to devour
him he groans and writhes in his
agony, whilst long-tailed devil grins
sardonically at his misery and adds
new fuel to the flame. AS the poor
victim tries in vain to escape the devil
roughly pushes him back again. His
throat is parched with thirst, and to
add to his torments he hears the sound
of rushing water near by, yet he cam
not have a drop to cool his tongue.
The gentle breeze which fans the
flames around him to fiercer intensity
does not cool his heated brow. There
is ever the tantalizing sight of Lazarus