Bribble’s rendering of the service —he had the sort of voice that brings out things—and was still teeming with ideas about it when finally a wild outburst from the organ made it clear that, whatever snivelling there might be down in the chancel, that excellent wind instrument was, in its Mendelssohnian way, as glad as ever it could be. Though meant to produce a totally different effect, the narrative seemed to excite the risible propensities rather than the commiseration of his auditor; and when Mr. " Upon which, he plunged his oars deeply into the stream, and the bark shot from the strand. Why shouldn’t we be martyrs? There’s nothing else for most of us, anyhow. CHAPTER V. Let me lie in Willesden churchyard. “I have scarcely left his side.
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