In an Episcopal church in the north, not one hundred miles from Keith, a
porter employed during the week at the railway station, does duty on
Sunday by blowing the bellows of the organ. The other Sunday, wearied by
the long hours of railway attendance, combined, it may be, with the
soporific effects of a dull sermon, he fell sound asleep during the
service, and so remained when the pealing of the organ was required. He
was suddenly and rather rudely awakened by another official when
apparently dreaming of an approaching train, as he started to his feet
and roared out, with all the force and shrillness of stentorian lungs and
habit, “Change here for Elgin, Lossiemouth, and Burghead.” The effect
upon the congregation, sitting in expectation of a concord of sweet
sounds, may be imagined—it is unnecessary to describe it.
—_Dumfries Courier_, 1866.