"Never visite?"

"Exceptin' sometimes amongst church-members." said Parson Jones.

"_Mais_," said the seductive St.-Ange, "Miguel and Joe is
church-member'--certainlee! They love to talk about rilligion. Come at
Miguel and talk about some rilligion. I am nearly expire for me coffee."

Parson Jones took his hat from beneath his chair and rose up.

"Jools," said the weak giant, "I ought to be in church right now."

"_Mais_, the church is right yonder at Miguel', yes. Ah!" continued
St.-Ange, as they descended the stairs, "I thing every man muz have the
rilligion he like' the bez--me, I like the _Catholique_ rilligion the
bez--for me it _is_ the bez. Every man will sure go to heaven if he like
his rilligion the bez."

"Jools," said the West-Floridian, laying his great hand tenderly upon
the Creole's shoulder, as they stepped out upon the _banquette_, "do you
think you have any shore hopes of heaven?"

"Yass!" replied St.-Ange; "I am sure-sure. I thing everybody will go to
heaven. I thing you will go, _et_ I thing Miguel will go, _et_
Joe--everybody, I thing--_mais_, hof course, not if they not have been
christen'. Even I thing some niggers will go."

"Jools," said the parson, stopping in his walk--"Jools, I _don't_ want
to lose my niggah."