It was sometimes as much as she could do, poor woman.

They sat near the front, and many a good hard look I used to give them while I was preaching.

Knox Church was a different place then.

The choir sat in the back gallery, and we had a precentor, a fine fellow--he lost an arm at Ridgway in the Fenian raid.
Well I mind him and the frown he would put on when he took up the fork.
But, for that matter, every man Jack in the choir had a frown on in the singing, though the bass fellows would be the fiercest.

We've been twice enlarged since, and the organist has long been a salaried professional.
But I doubt whether the praise of God is any heartier than it was when it followed Peter Craig's tuning-fork.