The Universalist. [volume] (Chicago [Ill.]) 1884-1897, 1897-11-06

pie and some cold tea. There was an
unusual quantity of tea, and it tasted
so good that Uncle Jones drank it
down to the very last drop. After
he had eaten all he wanted, he took
his candle and went upstairs to bed.
Aunt Rosille seemed asleep, and he
was glad of it. He didn't feel like
talking, least of all with Aunt Rosille.
His conscience was troubling him.
He knew that he ought to do some
thing for Elder Bre Sster's family,
but he hated to; he fairly dreaded to
give away the things, and he couldn't
bear 10 give in. He thought it all
over for long time, then he tried to
put it out of his mind and go to sleep,
but he did not feel sleepy. He
twisted and turned, but his eyes re-
fused to stay shut.
He got up the next morning tired
and sleepy. Aunt Rosille did not
seem to notice anything, and Uncle
Jones felt relieved. He could not
get the Brewsters out of his head all
day long. They came to him out in
the fields, in the barn, and even in
the garden. Aunt Rosille seemed
just the same as ever; she moved
round just as briskly, and nothing
seemed to weigh on her mind, and
she never even mentioned the dona-
ton party.
Tuesday night Uncle Jones pre-
pared to have good nights rest,
but again he felt wakeful. He
slipped out of bed and got something
to eat, hoping that it would put him
to sleep, but it was of no use.
Wednesday morning came. He
felt all used up, and thoroughly mis-
cradle. Finally, as last resort, he
resolved to confide in Aunt Rosille.
81 don't know what's got in to me,
Rosille,' he said, plaintively. 81
can't seem to sleep nights. l didn't
sleep any last night, or the night be-
fore, an if l don't sleep some soon,
l don't know what'll ever become of
me. l wish you'd fix me up some
bitter; perhaps I'd feel better. l feel
all run down"
Il think it's your conscience, An
son, "put in Aunt Rosille mildly, "for
not helpin' Mis- Brewster. I've heard
of just such cases."
Uncle Jones didn't say word, but
he shut the doer quickly and went
out to the barn. Aunt Rosille went
up into the attic and looked over
her herbs. She smiled once or twice
and seemed in excellent spirits.
Along in the middle of the after
noon, she slipped on her things and
ran over to Mis- Dexter's to talk over
the party.
Uncle Jones took a good dose of
his bitters that night, and his spirits
rose, for he felt sure that now he
should have some sleep. But mol
Along toward morning he woke Aunt
Rosille. "Pve stood it just as long
as can; an I'm afraid I'm goin' to
die. / can't seem to get any sleep
night or day. Nothin' seems to hit
my case; an can't last long like
this" He gave deep groan. Aunt
Rosille smiled to herself in the dark
ness, but she kept perfectly still.
"Ain't you going to get up an git
me suthin' to takel" inquired Uncle
Jones, reproachfully. Aunt Rosille
sat up straight in the bed.
II don't think / can help you, An
son. Medicine won't reach your case.
It's my honest opinion that it's your
conscience troublin' you because you
won't do anything for pore Mis-
Brewster an the children" She
waited minute, but Uncle Jones
was silent. 81 think if you'd make
up your mind to do your duty, you'd
rest easy nights, an don't believe
you ever will till you do" Uncle
Jones groaned. You would't miss
bag of meal an a side of pork"
Uncle Jones gave another groan-
even deeper than before. "An'
'twould do sight of good. If you'll
make up your mind to do it, I'll do
my level best by you; but it's my
solemn belief you'll never sleep
peaceful again till you do"
Uncle Jones was silent, and Aunt
Rosille resolutely lay down. In
few minutes she heard him say, in a
feeble voice:
"I'll do anything, Rosille, if you'll
only get up an help me. I'll even
give 'em bushel of patatoes.'
Aunt Rosille was all attention.
Besides the meal an the porkf"
eyes, I'll do even that" said Uncle
Jones desperately.