Page:The leopard's spots - a romance of the white man's burden-1865-1900 (IA leopardsspotsrom00dixo).pdf/336



S Gaston left the Preacher, the Rev. Ephraim Fox approached. He was the pastor of the Negro Baptist church, and had succeeded old Uncle Josh at his death ten years before.

He bowed deferentially, and, hat in hand, stood close to the seat on which Durham was still resting.

"How dis you doan come down ter our chu'ch en preach fur us no mo Brer' Durham? We been er havin' powerful times down dar lately, en de folks wants you ter come en preach some mo."

"I can't do it, Eph."

"What de matter, Preacher? We ain't hu't yo feelin's."

"No, not in a personal way, but you've got beyond me."

"How's dat?" asked Ephraim rolling his eyes.

"Well, as long as I preach to your folks about heaven and the glory beyond this world, they shout and sweat and sing. And when I jump on the old sinners in the Bible, they are in glee. They like to see the fur fly. But the minute I pounce on them about stealing, and lying, and drinking, and lust,—they don't want to furnish any of the fur."

"De Lawd, Preacher, hit's des de same wid de white folks!" urged Ephraim with a wink.

"That's so. But the difference is your people talk back at me after the meeting."