On one occasion there was to be a burial in the churchyard in the afternoon, for which Joe had made no preparation before escorting a picnic party to Three-Mile Point in the morning. Suddenly he remembered the funeral. Seizing a boat he rowed hastily back to the village, commenced digging the grave, tolled the bell, and, while the funeral service was being held in the church, completed his task, standing ready with solemn visage to perform the final duty of casting the earth upon the coffin. He then went back to the Point, and finished the day by escorting his party home. Not infrequently his day's work was protracted far into the night. If there was a midnight country dance the tinkle of his triangle could be heard until near sunrise, and often he was seen returning by daylight from some nocturnal festivity, fast asleep in a farmer's wagon.[118] If his versatile life rendered him somewhat uncertain at times in the discharge of his duties as sexton of Christ Church, he never failed to disarm criticism by his plausible and polite excuses. In his day the bell rope was operated from the vestibule of the church, and Joe Tom, arrayed in Sunday finery, was a familiar figure to church-goers, as he stood in the church porch tolling the bell with measured stroke, and inclining his woolly head with each motion to the entrance of every worshipper. Joe was born in slavery in the island of Barbadoes, and was brought, when quite young, to Cooperstown, by Joseph D. Husbands. Few persons in his day were better known than Joe Tom, yet, in his latter years, ill health withdrew him from public notice, and at his funeral he was laid away in the churchyard, unsung, if not unwept. A contemporary expressed a hope that the dead can have no knowledge of their own obsequies, for "poor Joe, who was the very soul of music, would hardly have been satisfied with a service in which not a key was struck, or note raised for one who had so often tuned his harp for others." [Illustration: THE COOPER PLOT, CHRIST CHURCHYARD]