d Gounod's "Ave Maria" on the oboe,
and last Sunday he gave us, on the clarinet, "Every valley shall be
exalted." The choir proper consists of three sergeants and one corporal,
and our tenor is his magnificence, the drum major!

Service is held in a long, large hall, at the rear end of which is a
smaller room that can be made a part of the hall by folding back large
doors. We were just inside this small room and the doors were opened
wide. On a long bench sat the four singers, two each side of a very
unhappy woman, and back of the bench in a half circle were the six
musicians. Those musicians depended entirely upon me to indicate to them
when to play and the vocalists when to sing, therefore certain signals
had been arranged so that there would be no mistake or confusion. There
I sat, on a hot summer morning, almost surrounded by expert musicians
who were conscious of my every movement, and then, those men were
soldiers accustomed to military precision, and the fear of making a
mistake and leading them wrong was agonizing. At the farther end of
the hall the Rev. Mr. Clark was standing, reading along in an easy,
self-assured way that was positively irritating. And again, there was
the congregation, each one on the alert, ready to criticise, probably
condemn, the unheard-of innovation! Every man, woman, and child was at
church that morning, too--many from curiosity, I expect--and every time
we sang one half of them turned around and stared at us.

During the reading of the service I could not change my position, turn
my head, or brush the flies that got upon my face, without those six
hands back of me pouncing down for their instruments. It was impossible
to sing the chants, as the string instruments could not hold the tones,
so anthems were used instead--mostly Millard's--and they were very
beautiful. Not one mistake has ever been made by anyone, but Sergeant
Moore has vexed me much. He is our soprano, and has a clear, high-tenor
voice and often sings solos in public, but for some unexplainable reason
he would not sing a note in church unless I sang with him, so I had to
hum along for the man's ear alone. Why he has been so frightened' I do
not know, unless it was the unusual condition of things, which have been
quite enough to scare anyone.

Well, I lived through the three services, and suppose I can live through
more. The men are not compelled to do this church work, although not
one would think of refusing. There is