The Earth Trembled

by Edward Payson Roe

He carried his energy into his religion, one of his favorite exhortations in the prayer-meeting being, "Ef you sinners wants to'scape you'se got to git up an' git." During the preaching service he took a high seat in the synagogue, and if any one in the range of his vision appeared drowsy he would turn round and glare till the offender roused into consciousness. The children and young people stood in awe of him, and there was a perfect oasis of good behavior surrounding his pew. Once some irreverent young men thought it would be a joke to pretend to "conviction ob sin," and to seek religious counsel of old Tobe, but they came away scared half out of their wits, one of them declaring that he smelt brimstone a week afterward. The Rev. Mr. Birdsall felt that he had a strong ally in Tobe, but he often sighed over the old man's want of discretion.

Uncle Sheba was Tobe's bete noir, and he often inwardly raged over "dat lazy niggah." "De time am comin' w'en dat backslider got to be sot on," he would mutter, and this seemed his one consolation. He could scarcely possess his soul in patience in the hope of this day of retribution; "but I kin hole in till it come, fer it's gwine to come shuah," he occasionally said to some congenial spirits.

Tobe had a very respectable following in the church both as to numbers and character, for many looked upon his zeal as heaven-inspired. At last there came a hot Sunday afternoon which brought his hour and opportunity. Mr. Birdsall was not only expounding, but also pounding the pulpit cushion in order to waken some attention in his audience. Old Tobe had been whirling from one side to the other, and glaring hither and thither, till in desperation he got up and began to nudge and pinch the delinquents. From one of the back pews, however, there soon arose a sound which so increased as to drown even Mr. Birdsall's stentorian voice. Tobe tiptoed to the spot, and, in wrath that he deemed righteous, blended with not a little exultation, looked upon Uncle Sheba. His head had fallen on his bosom, and from his nose were proceeding sounds which would put to shame a high-pressure engine. Aun' Sheba was shaking him on one side and Kern Watson on the other. Audible snickering was general, but this soon gave way to alarm as Aun' Sheba exclaimed aloud, "He's dun gwine an' got de popoplexy shuah."

"Carry him out," said old Tobe, in a whisper which might have been heard in the street.

Two or three men sprang forward to aid, but Kern sternly motioned them back, and, lifting Uncle Sheba's portly form as if it were a child, carried the unconscious man to the vestibule. Scores were about to follow, but Tobe, with his wool bristling as never seen before, held up his hand impressively, and in the same loud whisper heard by all, remarked, "It doan took de hull cong'ration to wait on one po' sinner. Sabe yo'selves, brud'ren an' sisters. Sabe yo'selves, fer de time am a comin' w'en you'se all will be toted out dis yere temple ob de Lawd foot fo'most."

With this grewsome recollection forced upon their attention the people sat down again, wide awake at last. Tobe beckoned to three or four elderly men whom he knew he could rely upon, and they gathered around Uncle Sheba. His wife was slapping him on the back and chafing his hands, while Kern was splashing water in his face. The unfortunate man began to sneeze, and manifest rather convulsive signs of recovery. At last he blurted out, "Dar now, dar now, Aun' Sheba, doan go on so. I'se gwine to bring in de kinlins right smart."

"Bress de Lawd!" exclaimed Aun' Sheba, "dat soun' nat'rel. No popoplexy in dat ar kin' ob talk."

Tobe and his allies exchanged significant glances. Uncle Sheba was brought to his senses sufficiently to be supported home by his wife and son-in-law. He soon became aware that he had committed an awful indiscretion, for Watson looked stern, and there was a portentous solemnity in Aun' Sheba's expression. He began to enter on excuses. "I was jis' come ober by de heat," he said. "'Tween de heat an' de po'ful sarmon, I was jis' dat 'pressed dat de sperit went out ob me."

"Mr. Buggone," replied his wife, severely, "it was wat went inter you, an' not wat wen' out ob you, dat made de trouble. You jes' gormidized at dinnah. I'se gwine to cut off you'se 'lowance one-half."

At this dire threat Uncle Sheba groaned aloud, feeling that his sin had overtaken him swiftly indeed. His supper was meagre, and to his plaintive remarks Aun' Sheba made no reply, but maintained an ominous silence until sleep again brought the relief of oblivion.