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Sister Sue: “Dat’s it; now yo’r climin’ dem golden stairs, Brer Viney!”

Sally Mink: “Blessid be his brow, he’s fairly chantin’ de songs ub de Sams.”

Mrs. Rodgers’ Ned: “I is convicted, Brer Viney, an’ I plays de fiddle no mo’!”

Uncle Reubin: “Now, you begin ter see de application. Jordan, wha’ John de Babtis, wuz ’mersed, is fresh watah. Not far fum Jordan is de dead sea, which has mo’ salt dan Miles Ribber, kase it will float uh man same ez uh egg; but de ’Postles tuck de fresh watah, kase I hab no doubt skirks wuz bad in dem days, an’ prob’ly wusser, ’speci’lly in de dead sea. Jes’ think ub our dear sistus, trem’lin’, soaked wid faith an’ salbation, speckin’ ev’y minit ter hab deah legs bit orf! Da ain’ uh sistuh in dis chuch dat ain’ had chills dis spring. De cold watah got nuffin ter do wid it; it’s shirk fright; dat’s what’s de matter wid ’em. But blessin’s cum in disguise, an’ Providence mus’ hab brought dis ’bate, fuh it sot me ter readin’, thinkin’ an’ prayin’, an’ I am confluent we will all hab ter be babtize a-fresh; den da will be mo’ moners, mo’ shoutin’, an’ bless Gord, no shirk fright. I shall hab mo’ ter say ef’n de application ain’ well ondastood.”