rs are chanting very earnestly and very vigorously the strains of
some familiar melody. The picture is a very exact presentment of an old
village choir of the better sort.

[Illustration: THE DUTIES OF A CLERK AT A DEATH AND FUNERAL]

[Illustration: THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD BY W.P. FRITH]

It was perhaps such a choir as this that an aged friend remembers in a
remote Cornish village. It was a mixed choir, led by a 'cello, flute,
and clarionet. Tate and Brady's version of the Psalms was used
alternately with a favourite anthem arranged by some of the members.
"We'll wash our hands," the basses led off in stentorian tones. Then the
tenors followed. Then the trebles in shrill voices--"washed hands."
Finally, after a pause, the whole choir shouted triumphantly, "in
innocenc_ee_"; and the congregation bore it, my friend naively remarks.
The orchestra on one occasion struck work. Only the clerk, who played
his 'cello, remained faithful. To prove his loyalty he appeared as
usual, gave out a hymn of many verses, and sang it through in his clear
bass voice, to the accompaniment of his instrument.

It was not an unusual thing for the clerk to be the only chorister in a
village church, and then sometimes strange things happened. There was a
favourite tune which required the first half of one of the lines to be
repeated thrice. This led to such curious utterances as "My own sal,"
called out lustily three times, and then finished with "My own
salvation's rock to praise." The thrice-repeated "My poor poll" was no
less striking, but it was only a prelude to "My poor polluted heart." A
chorus of women and girls in the west gallery sang lustily, "Oh for a
man," _bis, bis_--a pause--"A mansion in the skies." Another clerk sang
"And in the pie" three times, supplementing it with "And in the pious He
delights." Another bade his hearers "Stir up this stew," but he was only
referring to "This stupid heart of mine." Yet another sang lustily "Take
Thy pill," but when the line was completed it was heard to be "Take Thy
pilgrim home."

Returning to the artistic presentment of clerks, there is a fine sketch
of one in Frith's famous painting of the Vicar of Wakefield, whose
gentle manners and loving character as conceived by Goldsmith are
admirably depicted by the artist. Near the vicar stands the faithful
clerk, a dear old man, who is scarcely less reverend than his vicar.

There is an old print of a portion of the church of St. Margaret,
West