But at all events I saw the tidings run round the circle of the choir, overleap the boundary stall, and even reach the officiating priests, who inclined an eager ear to catch it, and passed the word one to another in the intervals of the chanted sentences.
Then the news was drowned in the thunder of the anthem, and the organ dominating all.

Everything was strange to me, but most strange the practice of the lay brothers, who chanted bravely indeed in tune, but who (for the words set in the chorals) substituted other sentiments of a kind not usually found in service-books.
"He looks a stout and be-e-e-fy o-o-old fel-low, this A-a-a-bot of St.
Omer, don't you think?
Glory, glo-o-ry.

Takes his meals well, likes his qu-a-a-art of Rhenish or his Burgundy to swell his jolly paunch.
A-a-a-men!" Or, as it might be: "Are you coming--are you coming o-o-out to-night?
There will be-ee, good compan-ee-ee.

Dancing and deray--lots of pretty girls; no proud churls.

Ten by the clock, when the doors all lock.