Then the prima donna leaped on to the first line, and slipped, and fell on to the second, and that broke and let her through into the third.

The other voices came in to pick her up, and got into a grand wrangle, and the bass and the soprano had it for about ten seconds; but the soprano beat (women always do), and the bass rolled down into the cellar, and the soprano went up into the garret, but the latter kept on squalling as though the bass, in leaving her, had wickedly torn out all her back hair.

I felt anxious about the soprano, and looked back to see if she had fainted; but found her reclining in the arms of a young man who looked strong enough to take care of her.
Now, I admit that we cannot all have such things in our churches.

It costs like sixty.

In the Church of the Holy Bankak it coats one hundred dollars to have sung that communion, piece: "Ye wretched, hungry, starving poor!" But let us come as near to it as we can.