cture given may draw some sympathy from
the liberal churches of the north, which do not forget the African in
his native jungle, nor the barbarous islanders of the South Seas. A
well-informed Roman Catholic priest told me that he had been
disappointed with the progress his powerfully organized church had made
in converting the freedmen. Before going among them I had supposed that
the simple-minded black, now no longer a slave, would be easily
attracted to the impressive ceremonies of the Church of Rome; but after
witnessing the activity of their devotions, and observing how anxious
they are to take a conspicuous and a leading part in all religious
services, it seemed to me that the free black of the south would take
more naturally to Methodism than to any other form of Christianity.

The appointment of _local preachers_ would be especially acceptable to
the negro, as he would then be permitted to have ministers of his own
color, and of his own neighborhood, to lead the meetings; while the
Roman Catholic priest would probably treat him more like a child, and
would therefore exercise a strong discipline over him.

In one of their places of worship, at my request, a New York lady, well
skilled in rapid writing and familiar with the negro vernacular,
reported verbatim the negro preacher's sermon. The text was the parable
of the ten virgins; and as the preacher went on, he said: "Five ob dem
war wise an' five of dem war foolish. De wise jes gone an' dun git dar
lamps _full up ob oil_, and git rite in and see de bridegoom; an' de
foolish dey sot dem rite down on de stool ob do-noting, an' dar dey sot
till de call cum; den dey run, pick up der ole lamps and try to push
door in, but de Lord say to dem, 'Git out dar! you jes git out dar!' an'
shut door rite in dar face.

"My brudders and my sisters, yer must fill de lamps wid de gospel an' de
edication ob Moses, fur Moses war a larned man, an' edication is de _mos
estaminable blessin'_ a pusson kin hab in dis world.

"Hole-on to de gospel! Ef you see dat de flag am tore, get hole
somewhar, keep a grabblin until ye git hole ob de stick, an' nebah gib
up de stick, but grabble, grabble till ye die; for dough yer sins be as
black as scarlet, dey shall be white as snow."

The sermon over, the assembled negroes then sung in slow measure:

"Lit-tell chil-ern, you'd bet-tar be-a-lieve--
Lit-tell chil-ern, you'd bet-tar be-a-lieve--
Lit-tell chil-ern, you'd bet-tar be