were present became
"joyful" to an unseemly degree, in spite of strenuous efforts to
restrain their feelings.

Sometimes the clerk was not the only sleeper. A tenor soloist of
Wednesbury Old Church eighty years ago used to tell the story of the
vicar of Wednesbury, who one very sultry afternoon retired into the
vestry, which was under the western tower, to don his black gown while a
hymn was being sung by the expectant congregation. The hymn having been
sung through, and the preacher not having returned to ascend the pulpit,
the clerk gave out the last verse again. Still no parson. Then he
started the hymn, directing it to be sung all through again; but still
the vicar returned not. At last in desperation he gave out that they
"would now sing," etc. etc., the 119th Psalm. Mercifully before they had
all sunk back into their seats exhausted the long-lost parson made his
hurried reappearance. The poor old gentleman had dropped into an
arm-chair in the vestry, and overcome by the heat had fallen soundly
asleep. As to the clerk, he could not leave his seat to go in search of
him; there was no precedent for both vicar and clerk to be away from the
three-decker before the service was brought to a close.

The old clerk is usually intensely loyal to the Church and to his
clergyman, but there have been some exceptions. An example of a disloyal
clerk comes from the neighbourhood of Barnstaple.

A parish clerk, apparently religious and venerable, held his position in
a village church in that district for thirty years. He carried out his
duties with regularity and thoroughness equalled only by the parish
priest. This old clerk would frequently make remarks--not altogether
pleasing--about Nonconformists, whom he summed up as a lot of "mithudy
nuezenses" (methodist nuisances).

A new rector came and brought with him new ideas. The parish clerk would
not be required for the future. As soon as the old clerk heard this he
attached himself to a local dissenting body and joined with them to
worship in their small chapel. This, after thirty years' service in the
Church and a bitter feeling against Nonconformists, is rather
remarkable.

In the forties there was a sleepy clerk at Hampstead, a very portly man,
who did ample justice to his bright red waistcoat and brass buttons. The
church had a model old-time three-decker. The lower deck was occupied by
the clerk, the upper deck by the reader, and the quarter-deck by the
preacher. The cl