My experience of village singing was confined to the thin nasal unison psalmody of our school children, and an occasional rustic stave from a farmer at an agricultural dinner.

Great, then, was my astonishment when the little group broke into the four-part harmony of a fine chorale.

One rarely hears such voices.

Betty had a grand soprano, and on the edge of the group stood a little lad singing like a bird, in an alto of such sweet pathos as would have made him famous in any cathedral choir.
Mr.Jonathan's head drooped lower and lower.

Affecting as the hymn was in my ears, it had for him, no doubt, associations I could not share.
My father moved near him, with an impulse of respectful sympathy.
To me that one rich voice of harmony spoke as the voice of my old teacher; and I longed to cry to him in return, "I have made up my mind.