make de fiah. Arter breakfas' you start right off ter work, and I'se sit
on de do' step and talk to de neighbos. You shall hab all de headin ob de
house you wants, but you can't hab de 'sition widout de 'sponsibilities.
I'se gwine now to take a res' an' be 'sported," and the irate wife filled
her pipe, sat down and smoked furiously.

Uncle Sheba was appalled at the result of his Scriptural argument. He
would like to be king by divine right without any responsibilities. His
one thought now was to escape until the storm blew over and his wife's
tolerant good-nature resumed its wonted sway. Shuffling cautiously around
to the door he remarked meekly as he held it ajar, "I reckon I'll drap in
at de prar-meetin', fer I tole brudder Simpkins I'd gib dem a lif' dis
ebenin'."

His heart misgave him as he heard his wife bound up and bolt the door
after him, but he was a philosopher who knew the value of time in
remedying many of the ills of life. It must be admitted that he could not
get into the spirit of the meeting, and Brother Simpkins remarked rather
severely at its close, "Mister Buggone, I'se feared you'se zeal am
languishin'."

Uncle Sheba's forebodings increased as he saw that his house was dark, and
he fell into something like panic when he found that the door was still
bolted. He knocked gently at first, then louder and louder, adding to the
uproar by calls and expostulations. A light appeared in the adjacent
cottage, and Kern Watson, his son-in-law, came out. "Wat de matter now,
Uncle Sheba?" he asked. "Does yer wan' ter bring de perlice? You'se been
takin' a drap too much again, I reckon."

"No, I'se only been to prar-meetin', and Aun' Sheba jes' dun gone and bolt