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'De Lord is my strengt an' my rocks, an' I ain't er fyeard o' NO man. An' wid dat he helt er preachin', sar, right whar he wuz; an' he tol' 'em uv dey sins, an' de goodness uv de Lord. He preach de word, he did, right erlong, an' atter dat he 'gun ter sing dis hymn: "'Dan'l wuz er prayin' man; He pray tree times er day; De Lord he hist de winder, Fur ter hyear po' Dan'l pray.
"Lor', honey, dat 'ud be jes nuts fur 'im; he'd light right out wid it; an' he wouldn't was'e no time, nuther, he'd be so fyeard he'd furgit part'n it." "I don't see none 'bout hyear," said Dumps, looking anxiously up at the trees. "They don't stay 'bout hyear much does they, Uncle Bob?" "I seed one er sittin' on dat sweet-gum dar ez I come up de ditch," said Uncle Bob.
"An' he jes clum up de side uv de den, he did; an' soon's uber his feet tech de yeath, he sez ter de king, sezee, 'King, hit ain't no usen fur yer ter fool erlong o' me, sezee; 'I'm er prayin' man mysef, an I 'low ter live an' die on my knees er prayin' an' er sarvin' de Lord. Sezee, 'De Lord ain't gwine let de lions meddle long o' me, sezee; 'I ain't fyeard o' nufn, sezee.
"An' now, chil'en, efn yer be like Brer Dan'l, an' say yer prars, an' put yer pen'ence in de Lord, yer needn be er fyeard uv no lions; de Lord, he'll take cyar uv yer, an' he'll be mighty proud ter do it. "Now," continued the old man, "we'll close dis meet'n by singing uv er hymn, an' den yer kin all go.
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