Learned Negro, The

There was a negro preacher, I have heard,     In Southern parts before rebellion stirred,     Who did not spend his strength in empty sound;     His was a mind deep-reaching and profound.     Others might beat the air, and make a noise,     And help to amuse the silly girls and boys;     But as for him, he was a man of thought,     Deep in theology, although untaught.     He could not read or write, but he was wise,     And knew right smart how to extemporize.     One Sunday morn, when hymns and prayers were said,     The preacher rose and rubbing up his head,     "Bredren and sisterin, and companions dear,     Our preachment for to-day, as you shall hear,     Will be ob de creation, ob de plan     On which God fashioned Adam, de fust man.     When God made Adam, in de ancient day,     He made his body out ob earth and clay,     He shape him all out right, den by and by,     He set him up again de fence to dry."     "Stop," said a voice; and straightway there arose     An ancient negro in his master's clothes.     "Tell me," said he, "before you farder go,     One little thing which I should like to know.     It does not quite get through dis niggar's har,     How came dat fence so nice and handy dar?"     Like one who in the mud is tightly stuck,     Or one nonplussed, astonished, thunderstruck,     The preacher looked severely on the pews,     And rubbed his hair to know what words to use:     "Bredren," said he, "dis word I hab to say;     De preacher can't be bothered in dis way;     For, if he is, it's jest as like as not,     Our whole theology will be upsot."