ell-ringer
and parish clerk of Chigwell, though we hear nothing of his
exploits in these capacities. However, he must have been a
familiar figure to the villagers as he stood in his little desk
on the Sunday, giving out the psalms and leading the singing,
because when in the rifled and dismantled Maypole he appeals to
the poor witless old Willet as to whether he did not know him--

'You know us, don't you, Johnny?' said the little
clerk, rapping himself on the breast. 'Daisy, you
know--Chigwell Church--bell-ringer--little desk on
Sundays--eh, Johnny?'

Mr. Willet reflected for a few moments, and then
muttered as it were mechanically: 'Let us sing to the
praise and glory of--'

'Yes, to be sure,' cried the little man hastily,
'that's it, that's me, Johnny.'

Besides the numerous body of more or less distinguished artists
whom the novelist introduces to us and whose achievements
are duly set forth in these pages, there are two others whose
connexion with Cloisterham gives them a prominent position in
our list. One of these is the Rev. Mr. Crisparkle (_E.D._),
Minor Canon of Cloisterham:

early riser, musical, classical, cheerful, kind,
good-natured, social, contented, and boy-like.

What a contrast to the Stiggins and Chadband type! He is a
member of the 'Alternate Musical Wednesdays' Society, and
amongst his lesser duties is that of corrector-in-chief of
the un-Dean-like English of the cathedral verger.

It is Mr. Crisparkle's custom to sit up last of the
early household, very softly touching his piano and
practising his parts in concerted vocal music.

Over a closet in his dining-room, where occasional refreshments
were kept,

a portrait of Handel in a flowing wig beamed down at
the spectator, with a knowing air of being up to the
contents of the closet, and a musical air of intending
to combine all its harmonies in one delicious fugue.

The Minor Canon is a warm admirer of Jasper's musical talents,
and on one occasion in particular is much impressed with
his singing.

I must thank you, Jasper, for the pleasure with which
I have heard you to-day. Beautiful! Delightful!

And thus we are introduced to the other musician, whose position
at Cloisterham Cathedral is almost as much a mystery as that of
Edwin Drood himself. He was the lay precentor or lay clerk, and
he was also a good choirmaster. It is unnecessary to criticize