"'Burhol', I'll punish um! dey young men shall die by de s'ord, an' dey
sons an' dey daughters by de famine.'

"Bredren, an' likewise sistren, yer dunno wat yer foolin' wid! Dem
s'ords an' dem famines is de wust things dey is. Dey's wuss'n de
rheumatiz; dey's wuss'n de toofache; dey's wuss'n de cramps; dey's
wuss'n de lockjaw; dey's wuss'n anything. Wen Adam an' Ebe wuz turnt
outn de gyarden, an' de Lord want ter keep 'em out, wat's dat he put
dar fur ter skyer 'em? Wuz it er elfunt? No, sar! Wuz it er lion? No,
sar! He had plenty beases uv eby kin', but den he didn' cyar 'boutn usen
uv 'em. Wuz hit rain or hail, or fire, or thunder, or lightnin'? No, my
bredren, hit wuz er s'ord! Caze de Lord knowed weneber dey seed de s'ord
dar dey wan't gwine ter facin' it. Oh, den, lis'en at de message dis
ebenin'.

"'Dey young men shall die by de s'ord.'

"An' den, ergin, dars dem famines, my bredren, takin' in de sistren--dem
famines come plum fum Egypt! dey turnt 'em erloose dar one time, mun,
an' de Book sez all de lan' wuz sore, an' thousan's pun top er thousan's
wuz slaint.

"Dey ain't no way fur ter git roun' dem famines. Yer may hide, yer may
run in de swamps, yer may climb de trees, but, bredren, efn eber dem
famines git atter yer, yer gone! dey'll cotch yer! dey's nuffin like 'em
on de face uv de yearth, les'n hit's de s'ord; dar ain't much chice twix
dem two. Wen hit comes ter s'ords an' famines, I tell yer, gemmun, hit's
nip an' tuck. Yit de message, hit sez, 'dey young men shall die by de
s'ord, an' dey sons an' dey daughters by de famine.'