It was always delightful to enter it and think how it had stood the shock and turmoil of the centuries.
One day when I was there the organ was being played most beautifully.
Sitting next to me in a pew, was a Canadian Highlander clad in a very dirty uniform.

He told me that a friend of his had been killed beside him drenching him in blood.

The Highlander was the grandson of a British Prime Minister.

We listened to the music till the recital was over, and then I went up to the gallery and made myself known to the organist.

He was a delicate young fellow, quite blind, and was in a state of nervous excitement over his recent efforts.