And that's how I came to know you, miss." "How do you mean that ?" asked Mary.
"I used to be that frightened of Sister Ann that, after I came to London, I wouldn't have gone near her, but that I thought Jesus Christ would have me go; and, if I hadn't gone to see her, I should never have seen you.

When I went to see her, I took my fiddle with me to take care of me; and, when she would be going on at me, I would just give my fiddle a squeeze under my arm, and that gave me patience." "But we heard you playing to her, you know." "That was because I always forgot myself while she was talking.

The first time, I remember, it was from misery--what she was saying sounded so wicked, making God out not fit for any honest man to believe in.

I began to play without knowing it, and it couldn't have been very loud, for she went on about the devil picking up the good seed sown in the heart.

Off I went into that, and there I saw no end of birds with long necks and short legs gobbling up the corn.