as possessed
by seven devils; and the evils which this state of things had brought
upon the world, he showed forth with much warmth and feeling.
Subject-matter, principally from his own experience, crowded in upon
his mind, and he served it out to his audience hot and strong. If
his deductions could have been proved to be correct, all women were
creatures who, by reason of their sevenfold diabolic possession, were
not capable of independent thought or action, and who should in tears
and humility place themselves absolutely under the direction and
authority of the other sex.

When he approached the conclusion of his sermon, Brother Peter closed
with a bang the Bible, which, although he could not read a word of
it, always lay open before him while he preached, and delivered the
concluding exhortation of his sermon.

"Now, my dear brev'ren ob dis congregation," he said, "I want you to
understan' dat dar's nuffin in dis yer sarmon wot you've jus' heerd
ter make you think yousefs angels. By no means, brev'ren; you was all
brung up by women, an' you've got ter lib wid' em, an ef anythin' in
dis yer worl' is ketchin', my dear brev'ren, it's habin debbils, an'
from wot I've seen ob some ob de men ob dis worl' I 'spect dey is
persest ob 'bout all de debbils dey got room fur. But de Bible don'
say nuffin p'intedly on de subjec' ob de number ob debbils in man, an'
I 'spec' dose dat's got 'em--an' we ought ter feel pow'ful thankful,
my dear brev'ren, dat de Bible don' say we all's got 'em--has 'em
'cordin to sarcumstances. But wid de women it's dif'rent; dey's got
jus' sebin, an' bless my soul, brev'ren, I think dat's 'nuff.

"While I was a-turnin' ober in my min' de subjec' ob dis sarmon, dere
come ter me a bit ob Scripter wot I heerd at a big preachin' an'
baptizin' at Kyarter's Mills, 'bout ten year' ago. One ob de preachers
was a-tellin' about ole mudder Ebe a-eatin' de apple, and says he: De
sarpint fus' come along wid a red apple, an' says he: 'You gib dis yer
to your husban', an' he think it so mighty good dat when he done eat
it he gib you anything you ax him fur, ef you tell him whar de tree
is.' Ebe, she took one bite, an' den she frew dat apple away. 'Wot you
mean, you triflin' sarpint,' says she, 'a fotchin' me dat apple wot
ain't good fur nuffin but ter make cider wid?' Den de sarpint he go
fotch her a yaller apple, an' she took one bite, an' den says she: 'Go
'long wid ye, you fool sarpint, wot you fotch me dat Jun