“Then the sun went down, it got dark, the wind moaned and wept like a lost child for its dead mother, and I could a-got up and there and then preached a better sermon than any I ever listened to.  There wasn’t a thing in the world left to live for—­not a single thing; and yet I didn’t want the music to stop one bit.  It was happier to be miserable than to be happy without being miserable.  I couldn’t understand it.  I hung my head and pulled out my han’kerchief, and blowed my nose well to keep from cryin’.  My eyes is weak anyway; I didn’t want anybody to be a-gazin’ at me a-snivilin’, and it’s nobody business what I do with my nose.  It’s mine.  But several glared at me as mad as mad.  Then, all of a sudden, old Rubin changed his tune.  He rip’d and he rar’d, he tip’d and he tar’d, and he charged like the grand entry at a circus.  ’Peared to me that all the gas in the house was turned on at once, things got so bright, and I hilt up my head ready to look at any man in the face, and not afear’d of nothin’.  It was a circus, and a brass band, and a big ball, all going on at the same time.  He lit into them keys like a thousand of bricks; he gave ‘em no rest, day nor night; he set every livin’ joint in me a-goin’, and not bein’ able to stand it no longer, I jumpt, sprang on to my seat, and jest hollered—­

“‘Go it, my Rube!’

“Every man, woman, and child in the house riz on me, and shouted, ‘Put him out!  Put him out!’

“’Put your great-grandmother’s grizzly gray greenish cat into the middle of next month,’ I says, ’Tech me if you dare!  I paid my money, and you jest come a-nigh me!’

“With that several policemen ran up, and I had to simmer down.  But I would a fit any fool that laid hands on me, for I was bound to hear Rube out or die.

“He had changed his tune again.  He hopt-light ladies, and tip-toed fine from end to end of the key-bord.  He played soft, and low, and solemn.  I heard the church bells over the hills.  The candles in heaven were lit one by one; I saw the stars rise.  The great organ of eternity began to play from the world’s end to the world’s end; and the angels went to prayers....  Then the music changed to water, full of feeling that couldn’t be thought, and began to drop—­drip, drop, drip, drop—­clear and sweet, like tears of joy fallin’ into a lake of glory.  It was as sweet as a sweetheart sweetn’d with white sugar, mixed with powdered silver and seed diamonds.  It was too sweet.  I tell you, the audience cheered.  Rubin, he kinder bowed, like he wanted to say, ’Much obleeged, but I’d rather you wouldn’t interrupt me.’