Classics of the lighter sort were judiciously interspersed with the favorite street songs of the day.

Nothing that savored of the chapel was there: the hour was honestly devoted to entertainment.

The total effect was an exquisitely balanced compound of pleasure, wonder, and longing.

Knock-kneed men with purple noses, bristling chins, and no collars, who slouched in sceptically and sat tentatively on the edge of the rear settees at the beginning of the concert, moved nearer the front as the programme went on, and openly joined in the applause at the end.

Scowling fellows who came in with defiant faces occasionally slunk out shamefaced; and both the knock-kneed and the defiant sometimes remained to hear Brother Tompkins pray and preach.