These gave entire satisfaction to those of his parishioners whom I happened to hear speak of them; but, although I loved the sound of his voice, and liked to look at his face as he stood up there in the ancient pulpit clad in his gown and bands, I never cared much about what he said.

Of course it was all right, and a better sermon than any other clergyman whatever could have preached, but what it was all about was of no consequence to me.

I may as well confess at once that I never had the least doubt that my father was the best man in the world.

Nay, to this very hour I am of the same opinion, notwithstanding that the son of the village tailor once gave me a tremendous thrashing for saying so, on the ground that I was altogether wrong, seeing _his_ father was the best man in the world--at least I have learned to modify the assertion only to this extent--that my father was the best man I have ever known.
The church was a very old one--had seen candles burning, heard the little bell ringing, and smelt the incense of the old Catholic service.

It was so old, that it seemed settling down again into the earth, especially on one side, where great buttresses had been built to keep it up.