In the brush

by Hamilton W. Pierson

"De Methodiss, my bruddren, is like de grasshopper—hoppin', all de time hoppin'—hop into heaven, hop out, hop into heaven, hop out. But, my bruddren, de Baptiss, when he get to heaven, he's dar! De Baptiss is like de 'possum. Hunter get after him, he climb de tree; he shake de limb, one foot gone; he shake de limb, anudder foot gone; he shake de limb, ebbery foot gone; but tink you, my bruddren, 'possum fall? You know, my bruddren—you cotch too many—you know 'possum hang on by de tail, and de berry debbil can't shake him off!"

The head Methodists, after many conferences, concluded that they would make one desperate effort to save their cause. After discussing the merits of all their preachers far and near, they decided to send for the Rev. Nathan Board, the veteran war-horse in theological polemics I have already introduced to my readers. This venerable preacher of the olden time was a genuine African, and entered his profession before it was fashionable for those of his class to learn to read; but he had a strong memory, which made up somewhat for this "defect" in his education, and, if he could not remember the very thing that he wished to repeat, he could always remember something; and, therefore, he was never at a loss for a quotation from Scripture, or an illustration.

The appointed Sabbath arrived, and Nathan was on the ground. The intense excitement among the blacks had aroused the curiosity of the whites, and there was a general turnout of white and black to hear Nathan's defense. His brethren had in private gone over all the strong points that had been made by their opponent, had given him a graphic and glowing picture of the utterly prostrate condition of their cause, and with the eloquence of the deepest feeling had endeavored to impress him with the magnitude of the interests involved in his success or failure. Nathan was greatly excited, but he was confident of his ability to meet the emergency. He had not read books, but in the previous fifty years he had witnessed many a fierce and bitter contest between successive Governors, Congressmen, and others, in their hot race for office, and his polemical tastes had made him a close observer of the various methods of meeting and overwhelming an opponent. That my readers may understand what follows, I must premise that the American Bible Union, under the presidency of the Rev. Spencer H. Cone, D.D., was at the time very earnestly engaged in the revision of the Bible; that the Baptist churches in the Southwest very generally coöperated in this work; that pastors of churches and agents of the society were urging its necessity, and soliciting collections in its aid; and that the other denominations were very generally defending King James's translation, and opposing the new version. Hence the question was the subject of almost universal discussion by the white clergymen; and, as I have already said, the colored preachers were but their echoes—they all felt called upon to enlighten their congregations upon this, as upon all other questions.

Having gone through the preliminary services, Nathan arose and commenced his sermon as follows:

"My bruddren, I has been sent for to come here and preach, and, when I gets t'rough, you'll t'ink I has preached. You'll find my text, if my memory sarve me, in de book of de Revolution: 'For de great day of his raff is come, and who do you t'ink is gwine to stand?'"

Nathan was too full to spend any time in introduction. He broke out at once, in the most emphatic manner: "And do you t'ink, my bruddren, de Baptiss will den be able to stand?" Shutting his eyes and shaking his head most dubiously, with his peculiar guttural "Umph! ah! my Lord! and you'll see 'em paddling den. All de water in de Ohio River won't save 'em den; dey'll call for de rocks and de mountains to fall on 'em in dat great day of his raff, and I'll tell you, my bruddren, dat a hot rock will be a mighty tight place for a Baptiss."

Having thus given vent to his feelings, in imitation of Cicero's immortal philippic against Catiline, he proceeded with more deliberation and at great length to review the entire ground that had been traveled over by his theological assailant.

The grasshopper, the 'possum, and all the other strong points were taken up and disposed of to the entire satisfaction of his brethren. The stunning blows that he had dealt in his opening passage were followed by others, scarcely less telling, all the way through to the peroration. Already he saw in the faces of his audience undoubted evidence of the success of his efforts, and he was flushed with victory. His tone became triumphant, if not overbearing. His bitterness and severity would surely have been entirely inexcusable, but for the excitement he was under from the terrible provocation. That "grasshopper" comparison was the most damaging assault upon Methodism, the most crushing blow to Arminianism, that he had ever been called upon to repel, in all the long years of his ministry. That of itself was enough to fire all the blood of this old theological war-horse. And then to follow that with the "'possum"—that was the crowning indignity—that was a Calvinistic blow administered to an already crushed and fallen foe, which Nathan's Arminian blood was fired to punish to the very utmost extent of his power. In Nathan's intense admiration for his Master he had, with the extraordinary imitative powers of his race, taken on, in addition to the clerical, a very decided military bearing. In his composite character, he represented the dignity of the bishop and the boldness and dash of the successful general. He was, therefore, a very striking representative of the "church militant," and he put into the remainder of his defense the concentrated polemical power of the two professions. He proceeded:

"De Baptiss, my bruddren, is in such a gone case, dey is in such a mighty tight fix, dat de ole Bible—de Bible dat all de faders and mudders have gone to heaven wid—de Bible dat dey used to love such a heap—de ole Bible dat fill us wid de hebbenly fire all de way along de road to Canaan—dat ole Bible, my bruddren, is no account any more to de Baptiss, and dey say dat the Baptiss is a gwine to get up a new deversion. In de ole Bible it reads, if my memory sarve me, 'In dose days came John de Baptiss.' Dey say in de new deversion its gwine to read, 'In dose days came John de Immerser'—'tain't dar, my bruddren. In de ole Bible it reads, if my memory sarve me, 'He shall baptize you wid de Holy Ghost and wid de fire.' Dey say dat in de new deversion it's gwine to read, 'He shall immerse you wid de Holy Ghost and wid de fire'—tain't dar, my bruddren! Immersin' wid fire, my bruddren!—immersin' wid fire! Who ever read in de Bible 'bout immersin' wid fire, only dem chil'en of de three Hebrewsers? Dey was immersed wid fire—dem three Hebrewsers dat was put into de furnace, heated seven times hot by de dedict of Nebuckefalus—what you call 'em now" (scratching his head)—"Shamrack, Shimshack, and Bedgone. Dey ar all dat we read in de Bible 'bout bein' immersed wid fire."

This was the finishing blow. Nathan sat down. The excitement and joy of his brethren were unbounded. They shouted, danced, shook hands, hugged, and yielded themselves up to that perfect luxury of excited, joyous feeling of which they alone seem capable.