He turned and looked down at the little woman, who waited to hear what
he had to say.

"Thankye, ma'am, Sis' Dicey," he said. "Thankye, ma'am. I believe I'll
go back an' pray ovah this subject." And he turned and went back into
the parsonage.

Whether he had prayed over it or whether he had merely thought over
it, and made his plans accordingly, when the Rev. Elisha came into
church that night, he walked with a new spirit. There was a smile on
his lips, and the light of triumph in his eyes. Throughout the
Deacon's long prayer, his loud and insistent Amens precluded the
possibility of any sleep on his part. His sermon was a masterpiece of
fiery eloquence, and as Sister Green stepped out of the church door
that night, she said, "Well, ef Brothah Eddards slep' dis mornin', he
sholy prached a wakenin' up sermon ter-night." The congregation hardly
remembered that their pastor had ever been asleep. But the pastor knew
when the first flush of enthusiasm was over that their minds would
revert to the crime of the morning, and he made plans accordingly for
the next Sunday which should again vindicate him in the eyes of his
congregation.

The Sunday came round, and as he ascended to the pulpit, their eyes
were fastened upon him with suspicious glances. Uncle Isham Dyer had a
smile of triumph on his face, because the day was a particularly hot
and drowsy one. It was on this account, the old man thought, that the
Rev. Elisha asked him to say a few words at the opening of the
meeting. "Shirkin' again," said the old man to himself, "I reckon he
wants to go to sleep again, but ef he don't sleep dis day to his own
confusion, I ain't hyeah." So he arose, and burst into a wonderful