music at any
cost, and they never could be brought to see the enormity of
worshipping in the whitewashed edifice that was, and is, as the temple
of Belial in the eyes of their vicar.

It would take some time to procure funds for another and more
satisfactory organ. In the mean time, the whilom choir was falling to
pieces. The late organist had accepted a fresh and more lucrative
post: there was literally no head to keep the members together. What
was to be done?

In desperation, the vicar asked himself this, whilst looking vainly
round for some one to help him drag back his flock from the vicious
influence of the "American songsters," as he most irreverently termed
Messrs. M. and S. And it was then, when he was at his wits' end, that
Mrs. Redmond most unexpectedly came to the rescue. It was the first
and the last time in her life she ever rose to the occasion: but this
one solitary time she did it perfectly, and coming boldly to the
front, carried all before her.

She would undertake a singing-class; she would arrange, and teach, and
keep together a choir that should reduce to insignificance the poor
pretensions of a man like Leatham! The vicar, dazzled by all this
unlooked-for energy, gave his consent to her scheme, and never
afterwards repented it; for in three short months she had regulated
and coached a singing-class that unmistakably outshone its
Methodistical rivals.

And then came the question of the new organ.

"We have some money, but not enough money," said the vicar, one
evening, to the partner of his joys; "and something should be done to
bring the want of an organ before the public."

"I should think it must be sufficiently brought before them every
Sunday," said Mrs. Redmond, triumphantly laying her tenth mended sock
in the basket near her.

"The parish is all very well, my dear, but the county ought to hear of
it, and ought to help. I insist upon the county putting its hands in
its pockets."

"I think you are quite right to insist," said Mrs. Redmond, placidly;
"but how are you going to do it?"

"Let us give a concert," said the vicar, at last bringing to the light
of day his great project, that fairly took his wife's breath away.
"Yes, a concert, to which the whole county shall come and hear
my--nay, your--choir surpass itself."

Mrs. Redmond was struck dumb by this bold proposition, but, finally
giving in, she consented to teach the choir, assiduously twice a
week, all the quartettes and