good hand at balancin' himself.

"Us women didn't say much, but we made up our minds to have the organ.
So we went to work in the Mite Society, and in less'n three years we
had enough money to git it. I've often wondered how many pounds o'
butter and how many baskets of eggs it took to raise that money. I
reckon if they'd 'a' been piled up on top of each other they'd 'a'
reached to the top o' the steeple. The women of Israel brought their
ear-rings and bracelets to help build the Tabernicle, but we had jest
our egg and butter money, and the second year, when the chicken
cholery was so bad, our prospects looked mighty blue.

"When I saw that big organ up at Danville, I couldn't help thinkin'
about the little thing we worked so hard to git. 'Twasn't much
bigger'n a washstand, and I reckon if I was to hear it now, I'd think
it was mighty feeble and squeaky. But it sounded fine enough to us in
them days, and, little as it was, it raised a disturbance for miles
around.

"When it come down from Louisville, Abram went to town with his
two-horse wagon and brought it out and set it up in our parlor. My
Jane had been takin' lessons in town all winter, so's to be able to
play on it.

"We had a right good choir for them days; the only trouble was that
everybody wanted to be leader. That's a common failin' with church
choirs, I've noticed. Milly Amos sung soprano, and my Jane was the
alto; John Petty sung bass, and young Sam Crawford tenor; and as for
Uncle Jim Matthews, he sung everything, and a plenty of it, too. Milly
Amos used to say he was worse'n a flea. He'd start out on the bass,
and first thing you knew he'd be singin' tenor with Sam Crawford; and
by the time Sam was good and mad, he'd be off onto the alto or the
soprano. He was one o' these meddlesome old creeturs that thinks the
world never moved till they got into it, and they've got to help
everybody out with whatever they happen to be doin'. You've heard o'
children bein' born kickin'. Well, Uncle Jim must 'a' been born
singin'. I've seen people that said they didn't like the idea o' goin'
to heaven and standin' around a throne and singin' hymns for ever and
ever; but you couldn't 'a' pleased Uncle Jim better than to set him
down in jest that sort o' heaven. Wherever there was a chance to get
in some singin', there you'd be sure to find Uncle Jim. Folks used to
say he enjoyed a funeral a heap better than he did a weddin', 'cause
he could sing at the funeral, and h