Dr. Stiggins:
cifixes and other images. The service began; a strange droning music of a wild and barbarous nature, more like an incantation of savages than the vocal praise of Christians, filled the building and produced in me a feeling of horror and repulsion that I am at a loss to express. I cannot describe these terrible proceedings at length; the strange gestures of the ministers in their Popish vestments, the thick smoke of the incense, the burning lights, and above all the weird rise and fall of that dreadful music made me feel as if I were under the influence of some horrible drug, and I wondered whether if I made an effort I could shake off the oppression of the awful sights and sounds and odours about me, and wake up in my peaceful home in Cricklewood. At last, to my unutterable relief, an old minister (the Dean of Westminster, as I was afterwards informed), began to preach. I shall never forget my sense of escape when I heard this excellent man characterise the conduct of the women who touched the Master's garment as "superstitious,"
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