Uncle Noahs Christmas Inspiration | Page 4

the listening
Job.
_Dear Uncle Noah_: I have written Foster and Company as usual to
send Mother's orchids. They should get there Christmas Eve. Will you
put them at her plate in the morning? I find they are the only suggestion
of me that the Colonel will allow in the house. I tried another letter this
week, but it came back unopened. Uncle Noah, give Mother "A Merry
Christmas" for me. DICK.
[Illustration: Now, sah, yoh be quiet and listen to dis note I gets from
young Massa Dick]
Uncle Noah laid the letter on his knee and drew from a worn leather
wallet several newspaper clippings. They were glowing reports,
gleaned from a stray newspaper, of the success of a young architect in a
distant northern city, one Richard Fairfax, Jr. Uncle Noah proudly read
them aloud for the hundredth time, interpolating little explanatory
remarks to the turkey, who gobbled threateningly but failed to
intimidate his tormentor.

"Job, whut yoh think 'bout dis yere quarrel?" Uncle Noah said as the
turkey eyed him sternly. "I say de Colonel's too hard on de boy. A
quarrel's a quarrel, yoh say. H'm, maybe yoh right, but it's dis Fairfax
pride ob de Colonel's dat keep him from readin' de boy's letters, and
nothin' else, sah. He sorry for dat quarrel, doan you fo'get it. But de
Colonel he prouder'n Lucifer. H'm, yoh say yoh understan' pride cause
yoh is proud yohself." Then as the turkey relapsed into slumber, "Now,
see yere, Massa Job, yoh ain't no mo' sleepier'n I is." Uncle Noah poked
the turkey with his finger, and Job arched his neck with a threatening
flap of his wings and descended from his perch. "Fight me, will yoh?"
demanded Uncle Noah in secret delight, "yoh is de touchiest bird! Yere,
fight wid dese yere crusts o' bread."
Job spread his tail magnificently and began an erratic consumption of
the bread crusts, pertly taking them one by one from the old negro's
hand and arranging them upon the barn floor for later and more
personal inspection. Uncle Noah watched him with misty eyes.
Presently his gaze furtively sought the rusty ax in the corner, and great
tear rolled down his cheek. Caught in the wave of a sudden panic he
dropped upon his knees and clasped his trembling hands. The dusky
barn, littered with odds and ends, was dimly visible in the glimmering
light of the old-fashioned lantern whose slanting rays fell upon the
doomed bird and the praying negro. No thought of sacrilege marred the
quaint, halting prayer. A terrible earnestness lined the negro's face with
a holiness of purpose and made it beautiful.
"Oh, Lord," he prayed, "save dis yere ol' turkey gobbler. I knows, Lord,
he's a powahful wuthless bird, but he's all I'se got. I'se jus' an' ol' slave,
Massa, what's been free since de War, an' Job, sah, he understan's me.
Lord, I doan wanta live no mo' if I has to kill ol' Job. Send me an
inspiration, Lord, an' tell me how I can save his wuthless ol' hide. Save
him an'--an' God bless de Colonel! Amen."
For an interval, in which the only sound was that of Job's feet as he
strutted about seeking an edible successor to the bread, Uncle Noah
remained upon his knees in the attitude of prayer, perhaps awaiting
inspiration. At length he rose, and, seating himself upon the box once
more, buried his white head dejectedly in his hands. The snow-flakes
filtered slowly through a crevice at the side, heaping fantastically into a
miniature drift. Absently Uncle Noah watched them, his mind traveling

back to many a snowy Christmas "before the War."
Suddenly his brown face glowed with radiance and he drew a long
breath of relief. "Job," he said, leaning forward and patting the turkey,
"I has it! Yoh'd scarcely believe it, sah, but I'se a-goin' to save yoh."
He arose transformed, the despondent droop of his lean body replaced
by an alert energy. "Now, Job," he coaxed, "I jus' wants yoh foh to
come along wif me peaceable, sah. I'se after yoh to save yoh ol' hide
from de Christmas platter."
But Job, with a malicious enjoyment of the game, was prancing wildly
about the barn, flapping his wings in hysterical derision of his
breathless pursuer. Brought to bay he squawked a protest and struggled
violently as Uncle Noah unceremoniously imprisoned him beneath one
arm.
"There, sah," exclaimed the negro triumphantly, "I has yoh! Yoh is
sartinly the mos' wuthless turkey on dis yere plantation."
Tightly clasping the outraged tyrant Uncle Noah tiptoed to the lantern
and blew it out. Then stumbling across the floor he stealthily left the
barn and set out across the snowy fields to a tumble-down shanty, sole
survivor of a string of negro