erk, during the sermon, would often fall asleep and make
known his state by a snore. Then the reader would tap his bald head with
a hymn-book, whereupon he would wake up and startle the congregation by
a loud and prolonged "Ah-men."

We are accustomed now to have our churches beautifully decorated with
flowers and fruits and holly and evergreens at the great festivals and
harvest thanksgiving services. Sometimes on the latter occasions our
decorations are perhaps a little too elaborate, and remind one of a
horticultural show. No such charge could be brought against the
old-fashioned method of church decoration. Christmas was the only season
when it was attempted, and sprigs of holly stuck at the corners of the
old square pews in little holes made for the purpose were always deemed
sufficient. This was always the duty of the clerk. Later on, when a
country church was found to be elaborately decorated for Christmas and
the clerk was questioned on the subject, he replied, shaking his head,
"Ah! we're getting a little High Church now." At Langport, Somerset, the
pews were similarly adorned on Palm Sunday with sprigs of the catkins
from willow trees to represent palms.

I have already mentioned some instances of clerks who were sometimes
elated by the dignity of the office and full of conceit. Wesley enjoyed
the experience of having a conceited clerk at Epworth, who not only was
proud of his singing and other accomplishments, but also of his personal
appearance. He delighted to wear Wesley's old clerical clothes and
especially his wig, which was much too big for the insignificant clerk's
head. John Wesley must have had a sense of humour, though perhaps it
might have been exhibited in a more appropriate place. However, he was
determined to humble his conceited clerk, and said to him one Sunday
morning, "John, I shall preach on a particular subject this morning, and
shall choose my own psalm, of which I will give out the first line, and
you will proceed and repeat the next as usual." When the time for
psalmody arrived Wesley gave out, "Like to an owl in ivy bush," and the
clerk immediately responded, "That rueful thing am I." The members of
the congregation looked up and saw his small head half-buried in his
large wig, and could not restrain their smiles. The clerk was mortified
and the rector gratified that he should have been taught a lesson and
learned to be less vain.

Old-fashioned ways die hard. Only seven years ago th