"You an' ole miss been mighty good fren's fur a pow'ful long time, an' now don' you go gittin' yourse'f in no fraction wid her, jus' as you' bout to die." "Ain't gwine to die," said the old woman, "till I done tole her wot's on my min'." "Aun' Patsy," said Uncle Isham, after gazing silently in the fire for a minute or two, "dar was a brudder wot come up from 'Melia County to de las' big preachin', an' he tole in his sarment a par'ble wot I b'lieve will 'ply fus rate to dis 'casion.

I's gwine to tell you dat." "Go 'long wid it," said Aunt Patsy.
"Well, den," said Isham, "dar was once a cullud angel wot went up to de gate ob heaben to git in.

He didn't know nuffin' 'bout de ways ob de place, bein' a strahnger, an' when he see all de white angels a crowdin' in at de gate where Sent Peter was a settin', he sorter looked round to see if dar warn't no gate wot he might go in at.

Den ole Sent Peter he sings out: 'Look h'yar, uncle, whar you gwine?
Dar ain't no cullud gal'ry in dis 'stablishment.

You's got to come in dis same gate wid de udder folks.' So de cullud angel he come up to de gate, but he kin' a hung back till de udders had got in.