It leaned against them like a weary old thing that wanted to go to sleep.

It had a short square tower, like so many of the churches in England; and although there was but one old cracked bell in it, although there was no organ to give out its glorious sounds, although there was neither chanting nor responses, I assure my English readers that the awe and reverence which fell upon me as I crossed its worn threshold were nowise inferior, as far as I can judge, to the awe and respect they feel when they enter the more beautiful churches of their country.

There was a hush in it which demanded a refraining of the foot, a treading softly as upon holy ground; and the church was inseparably associated with my father.
The pew we sat in was a square one, with a table in the middle of it for our books.

My brother David generally used it for laying his head upon, that he might go to sleep comfortably.

My brother Tom put his feet on the cross-bar of it, leaned back in his corner--for you see we had a corner apiece--put his hands in his trousers pockets, and stared hard at my father--for Tom's corner was well in front of the pulpit.
My brother Allister, whose back was to the pulpit, used to learn the _paraphrases_ all the time of the sermon.