“Can’t we go with you, Mammy?  We’ll be good, an’ not laugh at ’em shoutin’.”

“I dunno wat yer gwine loff at ’em shoutin’ fur; efn yer don’t min’ de loff gwine ter be turnt some er deze days, an’ dem wat yer loffs at hyear, dem’s de ones wat’s gwine ter do de loffin’ wen we gits up yon’er!  But, let erlone dat, yer kin go efn yer wants ter; an’ efn yer’ll make has’e an’ git yer bunnits, caze I ain’t gwine wait no gret wile.  I don’t like ter go ter meetin’ atter hit starts.  I want ter hyear Brer Dan’l’s tex’, I duz.  I can’t neber enj’y de sermon doutn I hyears de tex’.”

You may be sure it wasn’t long before the children were all ready, for they knew Mammy would be as good as her word, and would not wait for them.  When they reached the church, which was a very nice wooden building that Major Waldron had had built for that purpose, there was a large crowd assembled; for, besides Major Waldron’s own slaves, quite a number from the adjoining plantations were there.  The younger negroes were laughing and chatting in groups outside the door, but the older ones wore very solemn countenances, and walked gravely in and up to the very front pews.  On Mammy’s arrival, she placed the little girls in seats at the back of the house, and left Dilsey and Chris and Riar on the seat just behind them, “fur ter min’ ’em,” as she said (for the children must always be under the supervision of somebody), and then she went to her accustomed place at the front; for Mammy was one of the leading members, and sat in the amen corner.

Soon after they had taken their seats, Uncle Gabe, who had a powerful voice, and led the singing, struck up: 

“Roll, Jordan, roll! roll, Jordan, roll! 
  I want ter go ter heb’n wen I die,
Fur ter hyear sweet Jordan roll.

“Oh, pray, my brudder, pray! 
  Yes, my Lord;
My brudder’s settin’ in de kingdum,
  Fur ter hyear sweet Jordan roll.

  Chorus.

  Roll, Jordan, roll! roll, Jordan, roll! 
    I want ter go ter heb’n wen I die,
  Fur ter hyear sweet Jordan roll.

“Oh, shout, my sister, shout! 
  Yes, my Lord;
My sister she’s er shoutin’
  Caze she hyears sweet Jordan roll.

“Oh, moan, you monahs, moan! 
  Yes, my Lord;
De monahs sobbin’ an’ er weepin’,
  Fur ter hyear sweet Jordan roll.

“Oh, scoff, you scoffers, scoff! 
  Yes, my Lord;
Dem sinners wat’s er scoffin’
  Can’t hyear sweet Jordan roll.”

And as the flood of melody poured through the house, the groups on the outside came in to join the singing.

After the hymn, Uncle Snake-bit Bob led in prayer, and what the old man lacked in grammar and rhetoric was fully made up for in fervency and zeal.

The prayer ended, Uncle Daniel arose, and, carefully adjusting his spectacles, he opened his Bible with all the gravity and dignity imaginable, and proceeded to give out his text.