“You mustn’t set the church afire!” warned Charlie.
“Naw, chile, but I git up in de gallery, en when ole Uncle Josh gins ter holler en bawl en r’ar en charge, I fling dat blaze er light right on his bal’ haid, en I set him afire sho’s you bawn!”
“Dick, I wouldn’t do it,” said Charlie, laughing in spite of himself.
Charlie refused to accompany him. But Dick’s mind was set on the necessity of this work of reform. So in the afternoon he slipped off without leave and quietly made his way into the gallery of the Negro Baptist church.
The excitement was running high. Uncle Josh had preached one sermon an hour in length, and had called up the mourners. At least fifty had come forward. The benches had been cleared for five rows back from the pulpit to give plenty of room for the mourners to crawl over the floor, walk back and forth and shout when they “came through,” and for their friends to fan them.
This open place was covered with wheat straw to keep the mourners off the bare floor, and afford some sort of comfort for those far advanced in mourning, who went into trances and sometimes lay motionless for hours on their backs or flat on their faces.
The mourners had kicked and shuffled this straw out to the edges and the floor was bare. Uncle Josh had sent two deacons out for more straw.
In the meantime he was working himself up to another mighty climax of exhortation to move sinners to come forward.
“Come on ter glory you po, po sinners, en flee ter de Lamb er God befo de flames er hell swaller you whole! At de last great day de Sperit ’ll flash de light er his shinin’ face on dis ole parch up sinful worl’, en hit ’ll ketch er fire in er minute, an de yearth ’ll melt wid furvient heat! Whar ’ll you be den po tremblin’ sinner? Whar ’ll you be when de flame er de Sperit smites de moon and de stars wid fire, en dey gin ter drap outen de sky en knock big holes in de burnin’ yearth? Whar ’ll you be when de rocks melt wid dat heat, en de sun hide his face in de black smoke dat rise fum de pit?”
Moans and groans and shrieks, louder and louder filled the air. Uncle Josh paused a moment and looked for his deacons with the straw. They were just coming up the steps with a great armful over their heads.