HO, HO.
There had been a great deal of discussion among the darkies as to who was “The gret’s rebater, Mars’ Pinckney’s Damon Danridge, er Mars’ Nickey’s Rasmus Jasper Jemes,” and a committee was appointed to select a subject, with the advice and consent of the negro preachers of Queen Anne, Caroline and Talbot counties. They were about three weeks deliberating, and finally a part of the following verse from Zachariah was selected:
“Ho, Ho, come forth, and flee from the land of the North, saith the Lord: for I have spread you abroad as the four winds of heaven, saith the Lord.” (Chapter II, verse 6.)
Deacon Damon Danridge for the affirmative.
Deacon Rasmus Jasper Jemes for the negative.
Damon Danridge was the body servant of the Rev. Wm. Pinckney, once Bishop of Maryland, and was a splendid servant, neat, orderly, and as a rule very dignified—“Kase he driv uh preacher.” He heard most of his marster’s sermons, was a good listener, and was so devout and worthy that his brilliant and learned marster became much attached to him, read to him, and taught him to read.
His learning made him very top-lofty, and he assumed an air of great wisdom with all, was credulous and simple-hearted; the darkies thought him wondrous wise because they could not understand the big words he used. He conjured up and cherished the preaching and sayings of his grand marster, and delighted in repeating the same. If his marster had said to him, “Do you see yonder cloud, that’s almost in shape of a camel,” he would have seen it as did Polonius.
Rasmus Jasper Jemes had a great local reputation as a debater; he was a deacon, and when the regular preacher did not turn up Ras filled the “pull-pit,” and filled it well; two of his sermons—“His Bref Kinleth Coals” and “Let Us Meck Brick”—were considered marvelous by the darkies. Indeed, some of them thought him inspired (Ras thought he was)—for instance, in 1833, when the stars fell, all the negroes on the plantation were terrified; they hid under beds, in barnlofts, hay and straw stacks; they thought judgment day had come. Finally Aunt Phillis, John Poney and Little Billy, more courageous than the rest, went to see Rasmus. He was frying some bacon and did not know about the falling stars. He walked boldly and confidently out of his quarter, but when he saw the shower of stars, was soon affrighted, and dodging about, said, “Look out, Mars Lawd, hits Rasmus Jasper Jemes.”
Ras could read a little, was far from being dull and doted on debating. The subject, “Ho, Ho,” had been discussed far and near, and Rasmus had “rassled” with it diligently; and now that the time had come, Zion Church was packed and jammed. Uncle Reubin Viney, good and just, Sir Oracle among his “Brers,” was judge.
The servants had all chipped in and gotten Captain Stitchberry, of the grain schooner Margaret Jane, to buy the best $15 church-clock in Baltimore. It was bought just after Parson Demby preached his great sermon on “Fogitfulness.” Three-fourths of them could not tell the time.