self there.

He had been sitting unmolested about twenty minutes when the verger
asked him whether he wouldn't like to walk round. Mr Harding didn't
want to walk anywhere, and declined, merely observing that he was
waiting for the morning service. The verger, seeing that he was a
clergyman, told him that the doors of the choir were now open, and
showed him into a seat. This was a great point gained; the archdeacon
would certainly not come to morning service at Westminster Abbey, even
though he were in London; and here the warden could rest quietly, and,
when the time came, duly say his prayers.

He longed to get up from his seat, and examine the music-books of the
choristers, and the copy of the litany from which the service was
chanted, to see how far the little details at Westminster corresponded
with those at Barchester, and whether he thought his own voice would
fill the church well from the Westminster precentor's seat. There
would, however, be impropriety in such meddling, and he sat perfectly
still, looking up at the noble roof, and guarding against the coming
fatigues of the day.

By degrees two or three people entered; the very same damp old woman
who had nearly obliterated him in the omnibus, or some other just like
her; a couple of young ladies with their veils down, and gilt crosses
conspicuous on their prayer-books; an old man on crutches; a party who
were seeing the abbey, and thought they might as well hear the service
for their twopence, as opportunity served; and a young woman with her
prayer-book done up in her handkerchief, who rushed in late, and, in
her hurried entry, tumbled over one of the forms, and made such a
noise that everyone, even the officiating minor canon, was startled,
and she herself was so frightened by the echo of her own catastrophe
that she was nearly thrown into fits by the panic.

Mr Harding was not much edified by the manner of the service. The
minor canon in question hurried in, somewhat late, in a surplice not
in the neatest order, and was followed by a dozen choristers, who were
also not as trim as they might have been: they all jostled into their
places with a quick hurried step, and the service was soon commenced.
Soon commenced and soon over,--for there was no music, and time was
not unnecessarily lost in the chanting. On the whole Mr Harding was
of opinion that things were managed better at Barchester, though even
there he knew that there was room for improvement