yerse’fs till I fix yer in er line.”  Having arranged them to his satisfaction, he delivered to them a short address, setting forth the object of the meeting, and his intentions concerning them.  “Chil’en,” he began, “I fotch yer hyear dis ebenin fur ter raise yer like yer ought ter be riz.  De folks deze days is er gwine ter strucshun er dancin’ an’ er pickin’ uv banjers an’ er singin’ uv reel chunes an’ er cuttin’ up uv ev’y kin’ er dev’lment.  I ben er watchin’ ’em; an’, min’ yer, when de horn hit soun’ fur de jes’ ter rise, half de niggers gwine ter be wid de onjes’.  An’ I ’low ter myse’f dat I wuz gwine ter try ter save de chil’en.  I gwine ter pray fur yer, I gwine ter struc yer, an’ I gwine do my bes’ ter lan’ yer in hebn.  Now yer jes pay tenshun ter de strucshun I gwine give yer—­dat’s all I ax uv yer—­an’ me an’ de Lord we gwine do de res’.”

After this exhortation, the old man began at the top of the line, and asked “Gus,” a bright-eyed little nig, “Who made you?”

“I dun no, sar,” answered Gus, very untruthfully, for Aunt Nancy had told him repeatedly.

“God made yer,” said Uncle Bob.  “Now, who made yer?”

“God,” answered Gus.

“Dat’s right,” said the old man; then proceeded to “Jim,” the next in order.  “What’d he make yer outn?” demanded the teacher.

“I dunno, sar,” answered Jim, with as little regard for truth as Gus had shown.

“He made yer out’n dut,” said Uncle Bob.  “Now, what’d he make yer out’n?”

“Dut,” answered Jim, promptly, and the old man passed on to the next.

“What’d he make yer fur?”

Again the answer was, “I dunno, sar;” and the old man, after scratching his head and reflecting a moment, said, “Fur ter do de bes’ yer kin,” which the child repeated after him.

“Who wuz de fus man?” was his next question; and the little nig professing ignorance, as usual, the old man replied, “Marse Adum.”  And so he went all down the line, explaining that “Marse Cain kilt his brudder;” that “Marse Abel wuz de fus man slewed;” that “Marse Noah built de ark;” that “Marse Thuselum wuz de oldes’ man,” and so on, until he reached the end of the line, and had almost exhausted his store of information.  Then, thinking to see how much the children remembered, he began at the top of the line once more, and asked the child,

“Who made yer?”

“Dut,” answered the little negro.

“Who?” demanded Uncle Bob, in astonishment.

“Dut,” replied the child.

“Didn’ I tell yer God made yer?” asked the old man.

“No, sar,” replied the boy; “dat’n wat God made done slip out de do’.”

And so it was.  As soon as Uncle Bob’s back was turned, Gus, who had wearied of the Sunday-school, slipped out, and the old man had not noticed the change.