From the time of Jean Louise’s earliest ecclesiastical recollection, Maycomb had sung the Doxology in one way and in one way only: Praise—God—from—whom—all—blessings—flow, a rendition as much a tradition of Southern Methodism as Pounding the Preacher. That Sunday, Jean Louise and the congregation were in all innocence clearing their throats to drag it accordingly when out of a cloudless sky Mrs. Clyde Haskins crashed down on the organ PraiseGodfromwhomall Bles—sings—Flo—w PraiseHimallcreatures He—re Bee—low PraiseHimaboveye Heav’n—ly Ho—st PraiseFatherSonand Ho—ly Gho—st! In the confusion that
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