Indeed, Mrs.Hackit often observed that the colliers, who many of them earned better wages than Mr.
Barton, 'passed their time in doing nothing but swilling ale and smoking, like the beasts that perish' (speaking, we may presume, in a remotely analogical sense); and in some of the alehouse corners the drink was flavoured by a dingy kind of infidelity, something like rinsings of Tom Paine in ditch-water.

A certain amount of religious excitement created by the popular preaching of Mr.Parry, Amos's predecessor, had nearly died out, and the religious life of Shepperton was falling back towards low-water mark.

Here, you perceive, was a terrible stronghold of Satan; and you may well pity the Rev.Amos Barton, who had to stand single-handed and summon it to surrender.

We read, indeed, that the walls of Jericho fell down before the sound of trumpets; but we nowhere hear that those trumpets were hoarse and feeble.

Doubtless they were trumpets that gave forth clear ringing tones, and sent a mighty vibration through brick and mortar.