“Then you don’t believe in a one-sided sermon, Harry?” returned the deacon, while Marston and Maxwell sat enjoying the negro’s simple opinion of the Elder’s sermon.

“No, mas’r.  What the Bible teach me is to lob de Lor’-be good myself, and set example fo’h oders.  I an’t what big white Christian say must be good, wen ’e neber practice him,—­but I good in me heart when me tink what de Lor’ say be good.  Why, mas’r, Elder preach dat sarmon so many Sundays, dat a’ forgot him three times, since me know ’im ebery word,” said Harry; and his face began to fill with animation and fervency.

“Well, now, Harry, I think you are a little too severe on the Elder’s sermon; but if you know so much about it, give these gentlemen a small portion of it, just to amuse them while the Elder is taking a nap,” said Marston.

“Ay, mas’r, be nap dat way too often for pious man what say he lobe de Lor’,” replied Harry; and drawing himself into a tragic attitude, making sundry gesticulations, and putting his hand to his forehead, commenced with the opening portion of the Elder’s sermon.  “And it was said-Servants obey your masters, for that is right in the sight of the Lord,” and with a style of native eloquence, and rich cantation, he continued for about ten minutes, giving every word, seriatim, of the Elder’s sermon; and would have kept it up, in word and action, to the end, had he not been stopped by Marston.  All seemed astonished at his power of memory.  Maxwell begged that he might be allowed to proceed.

“He’s a valuable fellow, that-eh?” said Marston.  “He’ll be worth three-sixteenths of a rise on cotton to all the planters in the neighbourhood, by-and-by.  He’s larned to read, somehow, on the sly-isn’t it so, Harry? come, talk up!”

“Yes, mas’r, I larn dat when you sleepin’; do Lor’ tell me his spirit warn’t in dat sarmon what de Elder preach,—­dat me must sarch de good book, and make me own tinking valuable.  Mas’r tink ignorant nigger lob him best, but t’ant so, mas’r.  Good book make heart good, and make nigger love de Lor’, and love mas’r too.”

“I’ll bet the rascal’s got a Bible, or a Prayer-book, hid up somewhere.  He and old Daddy Bob are worse on religion than two old coons on a fowl-yard,” said Marston.  Here old Aunt Rachel entered the room to fuss around a little, and have a pleasant meeting with mas’r’s guests.  Harry smiled at Marston’s remark, and turned his eyes upward, as much as to say, “a day will come when God’s Word will not thus be turned into ridicule!”

“And he’s made such a good old Christian of this dark sinner, Aunt Rachel, that I wouldn’t take two thousand dollars for her.  I expect she’ll be turning preacher next, and going north to join the abolitionists.”

“Mas’r,” said Rachel, “’t wouldn’t do to mind what you say.  Neber mind, you get old one ob dese days; den you don’t make so much fun ob old Rachel.”

“Shut up your corn-trap,” Marston says, smiling; and turning to his guests, continues-"You hear that, gentlemen; she talks just as she pleases, directs my household as if she were governor.”  Again, Aunt Rachel, summoning her dignity, retorts,