The minister--a mulatto of
about thirty years of age, with a fine intelligent eye--was very simple
in dress, and unostentatious in manner. His language, too, was
appropriate and correct. He was evidently a man of good common sense.
His text was Psalm li. l2, l3. He referred very properly to the
occasion on which the Psalm was composed, and drew from the text a
large mass of sound practical instruction. The chapel (capable of
containing about 150 people) was only half-full. Before the sermon, I
had observed a very old negro, in a large shabby camlet cloak and a
black cap, ascending the pulpit-stairs. I supposed that, being dull of
hearing, he had taken that position that he might better listen to the
service. However, when the sermon was over, this patriarchal-looking
black man rose to pray; and he prayed "like a bishop," with astonishing
correctness and fluency! He was formerly a slave in Kentucky, and was
at this time about eighty years of age. They call him "Father Watkins."
At the close I introduced myself to him and to the minister. They both
expressed regret that they had not had me up in the pulpit, to tell
them something, as "Father Watkins" said, about their "brothers and
sisters on the other side of the water.
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