Pawson Demby was to preach in the new Zion church, and the servants were now on the lawn looking for the Plimhimmon, Bondfield and Job’s Content boats. In those days visiting was done for the most part by water, the numerous creeks, coves and bays making distance so great by land. The servants used the eight-oared barges, boats of burden, with sails and generally two masts, called a pinnace; they carried to the large schooners wheat, corn and other cereals for the Baltimore market, and in return brought hogsheads of molasses, sugar, coffee, rice, boots and shoes for the servants.
Presently Little Billy sang out, “Heah dey come!” and sure enough, rounding Wind Mill Point and turning into Otwell Creek, were three barges—tip-tap-toe—each pulled by eight lusty oars. The angry roar of the waves, the struggling boats, the landscape and the breaking billows made it a picturesque sight. Soon they were at the wharf. Most of them were house servants, and it would be for me a hopeless task to describe their raiment, the old-time courtesies, graceful bows and how-dys with which they greeted one another.
Those negroes were environed for generations with kindness, culture, refinement and Christian teaching, so that many of them had finished manners, knew perfectly
“How ter wait On Marster’s table an’ han’ de plate, Pars de bottle when he dry And brush away de blue-tail fly.”
They were dependent, kind, obedient, full of music, contentment, and happiness. The venom of the politician and carpetbagger had not stung them.
Greetings over, they all strolled to the new brick church, distant about three-quarters of a mile. Like all the churches of that day, the pulpit was much nearer heaven than the pews, and above it hung a picture given them by Miss Henrietta. It had a bell, a clock—described in Ho-Ho—and a fireplace large enough for half a dozen darkies to stand and warm themselves. When all were seated Uncle Stephen was asked to pray, and then Parson Phil Demby preached.
“Dat is de subjec’ ub my discose dis mawnin’ and I is preachen mo’ ’specially to de chillun in de meetin’ house. Uncle Reubin Viney an’ I was a huskin’ cawn lars’ week an’ he tol’ me boutin dis tex’, and arsked me to preach fum it; an’ you will find de ’zact words in de 7th chapta ub Acts, 8th vus: ‘Ab’ham fogot Isaac, Isaac fogot Jacob and Jacob fogot de twelve Petracks.’ Dem ole Petracks was a pow’ful fogitful race ub people! Now, ten ub dem Petracks, Simeon, Levi an’ Zebulon, dey wuz Miss Leah’s chillun (I fogit de names ub de res’ ub her chillun, but dey wuz all Jews). An’ Joseph an’ Benjamin, dey wuz Miss Rachel’s chillun, an’ de Bible say dey wuz saints. One ub ’em er his uncle, I fogit which, foun’ some mules in de wilderness ez he wuz watchin’ his father’s sheep, but he wuz so fogitful dat he didn’t gib de names ub de mules or how many dey wuz—some people say da wan’ no mules at all, dey wuz all Jackasses. Well, lemmy see—da wuz two mo’ ub Jacob’s sons (I dun mention five), an’ I fogit deah Ma’s name, but deah names wuz Dan an’ Naptha, or sompin’ like dat (I lef’ my specks hom’). I don’ think dey wuz Jews, er Dukes like Esau’s sons, an’ I don’ ’zactly no deah ’ligion, but I specks dem two wuz Babtis’s. ’Pears to me I hearn Uncle Reubin say so! How-some-eber, all ub dem chillun ub Jacob’s wuz born in Panorama [Padanaram] an’ dey’s all uh pow’ful fogitful race ub people.