Regardless of your private convictions it don't hurt you none, sometimes, to throw in with the majority. Traveling with the current instead of against it, you maybe is not so prominent but you gets fewer bumps across your head. A minnow sliding downstream with a passel of other minnows stands a heap better chance of leading a pleasant life than if he strives for to conspicious himself by swimming upstream all by himself. Old Brother Channel Cat is liable to come sauntering down past the towhead and see him going along there all alone, and open wide that there big mouth of his and then, little Mr. Minnow, I asks you, where is you?
So I sets and hearkens to the pow-wowing. It seems that two or three present has been swept right off their feet by the masterful preachments of this here Gabriel the Black Prophet. They is all organized up for to accept him as the chosen apostle of the colored race. It looks like they can't hardly wait for the blessed day to come when they'll pull out with him. They 'lows a lot of these here overbearing white folks is going to feel mighty funny the morning they wakes up and finds that all the black folks is done up and gone from 'em and there ain't nobody left for to pack their heavy burdens for 'em and wait on 'em, without they turns in and does it themselves. They says a lot more like that. And pretty soon the old camp-meeting tone comes creeping into their voices and their eyes starts shining like they was repentant sinners gathered at the mourners' bench and they begins to sort of sing their words and generally work themselves up into a state of grace.
Right about then this here U. S. G. Petty, which they calls him 'Lisses for short, speaks up. Until now he has been reared back in his chair listening, the same as I is. But now he opens up and his words hits them onthusiastic ones like a dipperful of ice-water throwed in their faces.
He says to 'em, he says:
"W'en does all you niggers 'at's so homesick fur the sight of the dear Affikin shore aims to start on yore jubilatin' way? I is heared a lot tonight an' other times, too, 'bout this yere journey. I is heared it called a crusade an' a pilgrimage an' a whole passel of other fancy names. But so fur, nobody ain't confided to me the details of the departure."
"The fust batch goes ez soon ez the fust boat is ready," says one of the true believers, name of Oscar Jordan. "An' the rest will follow wid rejoicin' on the other boats of the fleet, ez they is made ready."
"Well, me, I ain't seen hair nur hide of one boat yit," says 'Lisses, "let alone it's a whole fleet."
"But ain't you seen the pitcher of her in the litrychure w'ich the Black Prophet give out?" says Oscar.
"I has, Brother," says 'Lisses; "I suttinly has. I also has seen pitchers of the late Kaiser Ex-Wilhellum of Germany, but that ain't no sign I 'spects to meet him strollin' up Lenox Avenue some pleasant mawnin' this comin' week."
"Yas, but the bindin' paymints is done been made on the fust ship," says Oscar. "The Grand Treasurer, w'ich he is the Black Prophet's brother-in-law by marriage, he announce' the full perticulars at the las' monster mass meetin'. He specify she is to have a cullid brass-band on bode an' a cullid string-band an' a cullid crew an' a cullid cap'n an'——"