The Hypocrisy of the Amen Corner

Old Hi laid down the morning paper and remarked: 'Dat tag-rag Pete do long a all dat I heared about him.' 'What's de trouble wid Pete now?' asked one of the darkies. 'Just a flap of the same old scenery—you know what dat is. Busted into the jailhouse again.' 'Dat's hit, I know like you read it yourself.' 'I thought dat he had done reformed an' all dat.' 'Dat's what he done, and the returning board of the Mount Zion church counted him in, and hangin' him high up in de amen corner.' 'What der made him go back on his stiffy-cate then?' 'Sho! Dat Pete was just practicing a big fraud on the congregation all the time—I knowed dat.' 'You reckon?' 'I've been to camp meetin' in my day nigger, and when I see a man prancing up and down the pews shoutin' like a loony tic, and slamm-in' about as if he was wet k deep and tredd-in' water in the river of glory, I put one eye on that feller—I want-ter see him when he turns 'round.' 'You'es right, too!' 'Of course I is, for experience settles the fact that big hollerin' bangs at the altar is the kiver for a mighty mean dose of grace in the heart, and when yer sees one of them sort of mo'ners de next place ye'll heah him shoutin' is through the bars of a jail house!' The other darkies in chorus assented: 'Dat's good preachin,' hit self.'