Presently I observed that a couple
of young women were looking at me and whispering. Then
suddenly I became aware that there were sundry protuberances on
my person caused by bread and butter and doughnuts, and I felt
very miserable indeed. Now and then as the elder spoke the loud,
accusing neigh of some horse, tethered to the fence in the
schoolyard, mingled with his thunder. After the good elder had
been preaching an hour his big, fat body seemed to swim in my
tears. When he had finished the choir sang. Their singing was a
thing that appealed to the eye as well as the ear. Uncle Eb used to
say it was a great comfort to see Elkenah Samson sing bass. His
great mouth opened widely in this form of praise and his eyes had
a wild stare in them when he aimed at the low notes.
Ransom Walker, a man of great dignity, with a bristling
moustache, who had once been a schoolmaster, led the choir and
carried the tenor part. It was no small privilege after the elder had
announced the hymn, to see him rise and tap the desk with his
tuning fork and hold it to his ear solemnly.
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