The Spanish Fork press. [volume] (Spanish Fork, Utah) 1902-current, 1906-04-26
UNCLE BOB'S
SOUL
By LAURA FITzHUGH PRESTON
tcopyright, 100. By Joseph o Dowles)

garding the delights OF Paradise and u
future life, when you die and go to
| Heaven, will you have white soul or a
black soul?"
is | gwine"-the old man almost
gaspe1-"ter be er white soul. aw er
black soul when | dies? Is dat de
quecshun you done AK, leetle Moss?
this name for the child. fo'gibs you,
leetle Moss; but you oughtah had bettah
sense dan ter ak hit in de fus' place
Why, of co'se | gwlne be er white soul!
Is you eber heah oh air black pusson in
de naix wohl sides de debil?"
But, Uncle -doubtfully-''if
you are going to be white how shall |
ever know you up there? Cause, Uncle
Bob"-cajolin are such a
beautiful black, and am so used to
you with your lovely white woo-hair.
and all, that | don't see how can ever
tell you from other common white peo-
pie II you are going TO change all that"
But Uncle Bob had misunderstood the
comparison, and considered that the
boy had reference to the social grade he
would eventually occupy above; conse-
quently the glamour of the compliment
on his beautiful color faded away in
fresh burst of Indignation
What you meanin' by common peo-
pie, leetle Moss?" he grunted, irritably.
Does you spec, fob err moment. dat
gwine be po white trash up dar?"
Then what will you be, Uncle Bob?"
queried the little fellow, feeling himself,
now, very much bewildered by all these
complications. Are you going to be a
white gentleman" and the bare idea
brought him very near the verge of tears,
so loath did he feel to part forever from
the Uncle Bob OF his lifelong associa-
ton. even If supplanted by the celestial
creation of Uncle Bob's ambitious an
ticipations.
The old man was fairly staggered by
this last question
IL 'clar' ter gracious!" he said, cover
ing his discontinue with an air Of
superiority and reticent foreknowledge,
''hit ain no use my tellin' you what
gwine be when gifts up dar chile; leetls
ignaye boys ain spec ter hab de
knowledge oh ole haids lex mine, and
dey des got ter walt twell dey gifts shet
OBJ dey baby teef TO dey puzzlin' dey
haids on pints what's well on erstood by
de faithful froo revelation and wraslin'
an pra'r. Des mex yo' min easy! "Unc
Bob gwine be Ak up some way so dat
you sho gwine know him up dar, eben
eff he had ter be cullud white soul twell
he git use ter de change Good-by.
Gawd bless you twell de naix time"
That night in his devotions, Uncle
Bob prayed in much fervor and unrest
of spirit. The state of his mind will best
be revealed by his petitions.
"Marse Jesus" he prayed, in the
child-like faith of being very nearly APP
preached and comprehended by the
Power he addressed, 81 now gwine bring
up subjec' ter 'scuss wild you dat bin
ak me terday by de chile Tub. He say:
'Unc' Bob Che mos cry when he ak hit,
den is you gwine be er white gem'man
up in Heaben?' Dat ar quecshun des
pintally bin ha'ntin' me all day!
de idee of me bein' white gem'man's
soul up in Heaben neber is for one mo-
ment entah my min. hopes you will
beliebe dat, an 'scuse de on-politeness
of de sugges shun. But den | buhn all
my bridges down benin me, by tellin'
de chile dat | ain gwine be no white
trash up dar, an dat ausso spec sholy
ter hab er white soul! No won'er de POI
chile DIES err spec latin ober dat problem,
what Unc' Bob gwine tuhn into, in de
naix wohl. and done gone home in
Quandehy, SO dat lebes me face ter face
wild er vehy se'yous state oh fairs dat
gettin tangle' up in. Ter begin wild, de
chile say he ain gwine know me up dar
wild er white soul! Lawd, Lawd, dat ar
SCUM mon'sous ter ole Unc Bob De
idee oh not bein' knowed by the chile
dat nuss' f'om de time he err leetle
teenty weenty infunt an dat des de pride
of my ole age lex Miss Lucy and Marse
Tom
Il des yeahnin'. Marse Jesus" weep
ing unrestrainedly, "ter hab err face es
we'll es er robe wash white by de blood
of de Lam so dat could scribe de Lawd
in spotless peo'ty of soul; but, oh! bless
Lawd, l ausso yeahnin' fob de time ter
come when de greet genl meetin' wild all
the iambly pan gWine tex place, an dey
all gwlne say: Why eff heah ain inc
Bob! DIES 'zacly lex ole times, 'deah ole
Unc' Bob Lawd, Lawd," in an ecstasy
of emotion, what er meetin' dat gwine
be! Oh, bless Mahster! look down pom
po' unc' Bob, an fix up de fairs of his
soul so dat he res se-kueh in de faif dat
all gwine be well wild him in de happy
lam, an all things possible onto de Crea-
tor oh de Heabens an de yearth! Hab
mussy on Unc' Bob, an bring light out
OBJ darkness an glib him de power to res
saty'fied wild de final Session oh de AL
mighty"
The bell from the Angelus rang out its
summons to the faithful, and down
among the lily beds the vested throng
stood in shining rows, waiting their in
cense on the scented air.
The dew fell, like tears, from myriads
of weeping eyes, on tree, grass and flow
err, and all the mute unsheltered things
budding close TO the bosom of the earth.
AboYe, the sorrowful heart OF the night
throbbed with the intensity OF its star