Crowds of our female parishioners flocked to hear him; at first, because he was _so_ odd-looking, then because his face was _so_ expressive, then because he preached _so_ well; and at last, because they really thought that, after all, there was something about him which it was quite impossible to describe.

As to the curate, he was all very well; but certainly, after all, there was no denying that--that--in short, the curate wasn't a novelty, and the other clergyman was.

The inconstancy of public opinion is proverbial: the congregation migrated one by one.

The curate coughed till he was black in the face--it was in vain.

He respired with difficulty--it was equally ineffectual in awakening sympathy.