I was amused by a party in a corner.

The teacher sat at one end of the bench, with a meek little fellow by his side.

When the others were disorderly, this young martyr received a rap; intended, probably, as a sample of what the rest might expect, if they didn't amend.
Standing in the body of the church, and leaning against a pillar, was an old man, in appearance very different from others of his countrymen.

He wore nothing but a coarse, scant mantle of faded tappa; and from his staring, bewildered manner, I set him down as an aged bumpkin from the interior, unaccustomed to the strange sights and sounds of the metropolis.

This old worthy was sharply reprimanded for standing up, and thus intercepting the view of those behind; but not comprehending exactly what was said to him, one of the white-liveried gentry made no ceremony of grasping him by the shoulders, and fairly crushing him down into a seat.
During all this, the old missionary in the pulpit--as well as his associates beneath, never ventured to interfere--leaving everything to native management.