At the close of the regular prayer-meeting service the pastor of the New Mount Zion Colored Baptist Church, according to custom, stepped to the front of the platform and inquired:

“Is dar anybody present to-night who would like to jine dis church? Ef so, please stan’ up.”

Whereupon a little girl, apparently fourteen or fifteen years old, stood. The parson said:

“Take yo’ seat. Dah’s one; de church will set togeddah atter dismission an’ hyeah f’um dis little lamb.”

The benediction having been pronounced, all the sinners were asked to leave the room. Only church members are allowed to remain for these “after meetings.” When the room was cleared of all “the goats” a pompous-looking individual, perhaps a deacon of the church, arose and said:

“Bruddah Pastur, de house is in ordah an’ ready fur business.”

The pastor then asked the little girl who was seeking admission to come forward. She gave her name to a one-eyed man seated at a table in front, who, after a laborious effort, passed it up on a piece of paper to the preacher. The preacher, readjusting his brass-rimmed spectacles, looked at the piece of paper for a long while, and then raised his head and said:

“Bruddahs an’ sistahs, dis is little Queen Victoria Davis, who comes to tell us what de Lawd has done fur her soul.” Then, turning to the girl, he said: “My daughtah, we wants you to tell us what fuss started you to prayin’, and how you foun’ de Lawd, an’ so on an’ so fo’th. Speak loud so all kin hyeah.”

The little girl began as follows:

“Well, bruddahs and sistahs, what fuss started me to prayin’ was dat I knowed dat I had a soul to save, an’ ef I didn’t git religion hell would sho be my home.”

“True! True!” exclaimed a number of men and women in chorus.

“An’ den,” continued Queen Victoria, “I wanted to start to servin’ de Lawd while I was young: I wanted to give Him my bes’ days.”

“Amen,” said one old brother.

“Well,” asked the pastor, “how did you feel while you was seekin’ de Lawd?”

The girl hesitated a moment, evidently in doubt as to the exact purport of the question. Finally she said:

“I felt like I wanted to be saved.”

This answer not exactly suiting the parson, he put the question in a different way. Said he:

“Did you feel light er did you feel heavy while you was a-prayin’?”

“I felt both,” said the little girl in unaffected innocence. Funereal groans of pity swept through the congregation. The preacher tried again. This time he asked:

“Did you feel light de mos’ er did you feel heavy de mos’?”

When Queen Victoria responded, “I felt heavy de mos’,” a wave of approval greeted the remark.

“W’en did dat heavy load leave you?” asked the parson.

“Las’ Friday night,” said Queen Victoria; “las’ Friday night. I kep’ on a-prayin’ an’ a-prayin’, an’ I didn’t feel no bettah untell I made up my min’ dat I was a-gwine tah fin’ de Lawd er die a-tryin’. An’ las’ Friday night de Sperrit met me an’ spoke peace to my soul. I hyeahed a little voice, but I saw no man, an’ de little voice said to me, ‘Go in peace an’ sin no mo’: yo’ sins is furgiven an’ yo’ soul sot free’.”

At this everybody shouted assent. “Glory! Hallelujah!” exclaimed an elderly sister.

“Now, my daughtah,” said the preacher, “how did you feel atter dat?”

“I felt light ez a feathah,” said the child. There was another shout of approval, Queen Victoria having hit upon the regulation answer.

“Ef you was to die now, whar would you go?” inquired the examiner.

“To heaven,” was the reply.

“Ef you had ’a’ died in yo’ sins, whar would you ’a’ went?”

“I would ’a’ went to hell,” said the girl.

“Would Gawd ’a’ been jest in sendin’ you to hell?”

“No, sah!” exclaimed the applicant. Many of the hearers laughed. The preacher raised his hand and said:

“Don’t laff; don’t laff; de chile is young yit, an’ she’s got to learn.”

Then by a series of leading questions, mainly concerning parental government, the old pastor brought the child around to the point where she saw, or where she was willing to say that she saw, that it was just for God to send people to hell.

“Do you want to jine dis church?” continued the questioner.

“Yes, sah,” said the applicant.

“Dis is a Baptis’ church, you know,” explained the pastor; “we baptize hyeah by putting people deep down undah de watah. Ain’t you sheered uv cole watah in de wintah time?”

“Watah can’t git too cole fur me,” said the little girl, “I got de grace uv Gawd in my heart.”

The people fairly whooped at this (as in their superstition they supposed) supreme manifestation of faith.

The pastor then turned to the congregation and said:

“Is dah any uddah questions?”

An old brother near the stove arose and said:

“Bruddah Pastur, I ain’t hyeahed de chile say whar she was at w’en de change took place.”

Queen Victoria responded:

“I was at de Bridge Street church las’ Friday night.”

The old brother nodded, as if completely satisfied with the answer. Then he asked:

“How long is you willin’ to trus’ dis hope?”

“Tell I dies,” said the applicant. Down sat the questioner.

“Any mo’ questions?” asked the pastor.

A sister stood.

“Honey,” she said, “is you got any parrunts livin’?”

“Yas’m,” was the reply; “my ma an’ my pa is both livin’, an’ dey’s both out in de ole fiel’ uv sin.”

“Lawd ’a’ mussy!” exclaimed several of the hearers. The sister who asked the question sat bathed in tears.

A brother in the rear arose and said:

“I has a question dat I wants to ax: I wants to know, daughtah, ef you was convertid at de Bridge Street church, huccom you wants to jine dis church?”

“De Speerit sent me to dis church,” exultantly exclaimed the girl.

“Glory to Gawd!” said the pastor. “Bless de Lamb!” exclaimed someone else. “Honah! Honah! Honah!” hallooed many others, and there was a general shout.

The examination ended, two sisters came forward and took Queen Victoria into the anteroom. When the applicant had been carried out a brother arose, the same pompous individual who had originally announced the house in “ordah an’ ready fur business.” Clearing his throat, he said:

“Bruddah Pastur, I sho b’lieves dis is de works uv grace.” There was a loud chorus of “Amens.” “An’ I motions,” continued the speaker, “ef I kin git a secon’, dat she be ’ceptid ez er candidate fur baptism, an’ on baptism ’come a full membah uv dis church.”

“Secon’ de motion!” “Secon’ de motion!” exclaimed several at one and the same time.

The motion was put and carried. Queen Victoria was brought in once more. The pastor informed her of the unanimous vote of the church, and instructed her to be ready for baptism the following Sunday night. Then the meeting adjourned, the members singing as they dispersed: