y pray for the increase
and prosperity of the same[3]."

[Footnote 3: _The Clerk's Book of 1549_, edited by J. Wickham Legg,
Appendix IX, p. 95.]

This is only one instance out of many which might be quoted to prove
that the clerk's office by no means ceased to exist after the
Reformation changes. I shall refer later on to the survival of the
collection of money for the holy loaf and to its transference to
other uses.

The clerk, therefore, appears to have continued to hold his office
shorn of some of his former duties. He witnessed all the changes of that
changeful time, the spoliation of his church, the selling of numerous
altar cloths, vestments, banners, plate, and other costly furniture,
and, moreover, took his part in the destruction of altars and the
desecration of the sanctuary. In the accounts for the year 1559 of the
Church of St. Lawrence, Reading, appear the items:

"Itm--for taking-downe the awlters and laying the stones, vs.

"To Loryman (the clerk) for carrying out the rubbish x d[4]."

[Footnote 4: Rev. C. Kerry's _History of S. Lawrence's Church, Reading_,
p. 25.]

Indeed, the clerk can claim a more perfect continuity of office than the
rector or vicar. There was a time when the incumbents were forced to
leave their cure and give place to an intruding minister appointed by
the Cromwellian Parliament. But the clerk remained on to chant his
"Amen" to the long-winded prayers of some black-gowned Puritan. That is
a very realistic scene sketched by Sir Walter Besant when he describes
the old clerk, an ancient man and rheumatic, hobbling slowly through the
village, key in hand, to the church door. It was towards the end of the
Puritan regime. After ringing the bell and preparing the church for the
service, he goes into the vestry, where stood an ancient black oak
coffer, the sides curiously graven, and a great rusty key in the lock.
The clerk (Sir Walter calls him the sexton, but it is evidently the
clerk who is referred to) turns the key with difficulty, throws open the
lid, and looks in.

"Ay," he says, chuckling, "the old surplice and the old Book of Common
Prayer. Ye have had a long rest; 'tis time for you both to come out
again. When the surplice is out, the book will stay no longer locked
up." He draws forth an old and yellow roll. It was the surplice which
had once been white. "Here you be," he says; "put you away for a matter
of twelve year and more, and you bide your time; you know you will