Well, after singing and praying, he took his text. I quote entirely from
memory. "Blessed be the Lord God, who teaches my hands to war and my
fingers to fight." Now, reader, that was the very subject we boys did
not want to hear preached on--on that occasion at least. We felt like
some other subject would have suited us better. I forget how he
commenced his sermon, but I remember that after he got warmed up a little,
he began to pitch in on the Yankee nation, and gave them particular fits
as to their geneology. He said that we of the South had descended from
the royal and aristocratic blood of the Huguenots of France, and of the
cavaliers of England, etc.; but that the Yankees were the descendents of
the crop-eared Puritans and witch burners, who came over in the Mayflower,
and settled at Plymouth Rock. He was warm on this subject, and waked up
the echoes of the forest. He said that he and his brethren would fight
the Yankees in this world, and if God permit, chase their frightened
ghosts in the next, through fire and brimstone.
About this time we heard the awfullest racket, produced by some wild
animal tearing through the woods toward us, and the cry, "Look out! look
out! hooie! hooie! hooie! look out!" and there came running right through
our midst a wild bull, mad with terror and fright, running right over and
knocking down the divine, and scattering Bibles and hymn books in every
direction.
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