lights upon the preacher's
stand. This invasion against white people's customs was due probably to
the intense love which Afric's sons and daughters have for the
"beautiful flowers."

Mat, tall and dignified always, seemed magnified in proportions and
dignity when installed behind his stand of flowers and lights. His
initial proceeding was invariably a great flourish of his white cotton
handkerchief.

If Mat had a source of vanity deeper than another, it was of this
above-mentioned article; and this, too, was so well known of him, that
most of his presents consisted of handkerchiefs. He had, among his
deposits, a good-sized box full of these useful and ornamental
inventions. There was one from Lucy and Lizzie, four Sallies, three
Dinahs, three Betties, two or three Janes, as many Anns, and hosts of
others too numerous to mention. And every one of those donors looked
steadily at the flourish of the preacher, if happily her own gift had
come to the coveted honor.

The first prayer consisted of very large words very fervently uttered.
This was comparatively brief, as a lengthy one for the whole world was
to follow the first hymn.

Mat had adopted, of course, the custom of his superiors in the matter of
singing. He read from the book the first two lines of the hymn, which
the congregation seized and sung to the best of their ability. Two lines
more were read, when music of voice, if not of words, became
distinguishable.

Upon this occasion the preacher seemed troubled with unusual
indistinctness of vision. He took his glasses from his nose more than
once, violently rubbing them with his spotless handkerchief. Taking up
his book for the third time, his eyes or his spectacles seemed still to
be at fault. Perplexed and irritated, he exclaimed, unguardedly:

"Dog-gone-it! my eyes are dim; I cannot see to read this hymn."

The congregation supposing it all right, tuned up, and repeated it,
though one would have been at great loss to make sense out of the
myriad-syllabled confusion.

The preacher, surprised, attempted to explain. He said energetically,
book still in hand:

"I did not mean to sing that hymn, I only meant my eyes were dim."

The simple people, still supposing the hymn to be continued, again
poured forth volumes of sound.

In vain the preacher gesticulated, stamped, and threatened. So varied
usually were the performances, this was thought to be but part of the
programme. When the music hushed again t