“On de Sundy befo’ de fust Mundy ob de full moon in September,” he went on, “cum off de ’lection fur ’ziden elder of Zion, an’ de next day am de day sot by law fur de ’lection of jestus ob de peace. So las’ Sat’d’y I gin a treat. I axed ebry nigger in de deestrict dar, an’ all de members of Zion, an’ Br’er Johnsing wus to preach de watermilion sermon.
“Ain’t nurver heurd ob de watermilion sermon? Hit’s de sermon preached at de feast ob de watermilion jes’ befo’ de new moon in September, an’ it am one ob de doctrines ob Zion to kinder take de place ob de feast ob de Passober ’mong de Jews—only in dis case we don’t pass ober nuffin’, ’specially de watermilions. Now, hit tain’t eb’ry nigger kin preach de watermilion sermon. Hit takes a mighty juicy nigger to do hit, yallar with dark stripes, juicy at de core, full of tears an’ sweet penitence an’ easily laid open by the blade of grace, an’ brudder Johnsing am de slickest one I eber seed at it.
“Now, dat wus my time to git in my fine Italyun han’, an’ so I gin it out that hit wus to be my treat, an’ I axed all de voters ob de deestrick an’ all de members ob Zion ter be on han’ fur de revival ob de speerit an’ de refreshment ob de flesh.
“’Cordin’ to my custom, jes’ befo’ de time fur de sermon I had all de watermilions laid out on de grass, one hundred ob de bigges’ an’ fattes’ ones you eber seed. You see, boss, I am constertushunally upposed to long sermons,” he winked, “an’ I knowed dey wa’n’t a nigger libin’ c’uld preach ober ten minnits wid all dem watermilions a-layin’ dar a-winkin’ at ’im an’ waiting to be led, lak’ lambs, to de sacrifice. Does you see de p’int?”
I saw it.
“Wal, suh, you orter jes’ heurd de prayer Br’er Johnsing put up—it wus short, but mighty sweet. De flavor ob de watermilions seem ter git into hit, an’ de ’roma ob hits juice b’iled outen his mouth. Boss, you’ve seed dese kinder preachers dat talks to de good Lord wid all de easy fermileriaty ob a deestrick skule-teacher axin’ de presedent ob de skule board fur what he wants, an’ wid all de sassy assurance ob de silent partner in a lan’-offis bisness, ain’t you? Wal, dat’s de way Br’er Johnsing prayed, an’ I wus de speshul objec, ob his conversashun wid de Almighty dat day. He tole ’im whut I’d dun fur dat community, informed ’im very posertively ob de fac’ dat I wus a Godly man, refreshed His mem’ry in a gentle way consarnin’ sum’ ob my long-furgotten deeds ob cheerity, an’ gin Him sum’ good, brotherly advice on how to git eben wid me, an’ in a measure pay off de debt of gratitude He owed me by makin’ it His will dat I wus erg’in to administer de law ob de lan’, both spiritual an’ temper’l, an’ fur ernudder twelvemonth ter be de venerbul ram ob de flock ob Zion, to lead His sheep to de fold an’ by de still waters. Wal, suh, when he finish, mighty nigh eb’ry nigger dar said Amen, an’ den dey lick dey chops an’ look sorter dreamy lak ober whar de watermilions lay ’n de col’ spring branch.
“Dis wus my time to spring de s’prise ob de ebenin’ on ’em, dat I’d fixed up. An’ so I riz up wid de most sancterfied look on I c’uld git, one ob dem onworthy, miserbul-sinner sorter looks dat we elders allers carry aroun’ in our coat pockets along with our bandanna handkerchiefs fur enny emergency, an’ I sez: ‘Brudders an’ sistrin, befo’ we listen to de soulful sermon in store fur our spiritual natures, which Br’er Johnsing gwineter gib us in his ellerquent way, I’ve sprung a letle s’prise on you, an’ I wants you all to retire wid me an’ refresh de innard man a leetle. Brudderin’ knowin’ my onworthiness an’ de many obligashuns I am under to dis enlightened community ob Christian saints an’ godly men an’ wimmen, I’ve made two bar’ls ob ice-cold lemmernade, an’ you’ll find ’em asettin’, es a big s’prise,’ sez I, ‘on de houn’s ob my ox-waggin, in de cool shade by de spring, wid plenty ob tin dippers fur all. We’ll now adjourn twenty minnits fur refreshments.’
“Wal, suh, you sh’uld a heurd de shout. Ef de ’lection bed cum’ off den, I’d a got eb’ry vote in de deestrick an’ a fair sprinklin’ ob sum’ in all de yudders. I went wid ’em an’ drunk, too. An’ we all drunk ter one ernudder’s health. I drunk to Sister Ca’line, an’ Br’er Johnsing he drunk to Dinah, an’ de leetle niggers drunk, an’ de ole niggers drunk, de gals an’ de boys. I hilt up my dipper an’ laugh, an’ sed to Br’er Johnsing, ‘Br’er Johnsing, here’s to you,’ sez I, ‘an’ all dat goes up must go down.’ An’ wid dat I swallered down.
“Den Br’er Johnsing—he’s mighty funny—an’ he hilt up his’n and laugh, an’ say: ‘Br’er Washington, here’s to you,’ sez he, ‘an’ all dat goes down nurver comes up ergin.’ An’ den we all laugh.
“But dat wus one time he wus terribly mistaken, es you will see.