his legs, and, long before the Gloria was finished, the organ was as dead as Sennacherib. Dick was puzzled, but conscious of right; and when, during the Second Lesson, Pedler came raging down stairs to know what was wrong, Dick was ready: What 'ave I bin a doin' on? Why, what 'ave you bin a singin' of? Hattwood in C? What does it say on that there list? DOCTOR ROGERS in D, and I blowed Dr. Rogers in D. If you'd 'a said Hattwood in C, I'd 'a blowed accordin'." Pedler admitted contributory negligence.

Concerning vergers, Chaunters had countless tales; but he robbed all the cathedrals in England of their local vergers and domiciled them all in Sudchester. It was not his verger, but a St. Paul's man who objected to private devotions on the ground that they had services at 10 and 3.30, and didn't want no fancy work. It was a Canterbury verger who bade a private devotee rise from his knees, and apologetically remarked to a bystander that if he didn't stop 'em he should 'ave 'em prayin' hall hover the place. It was a Belgravian verger who warned the lady not to leave her parasol about while she looked at the painted windows, "because Private Devotions comes in at 11, and they halways steals." It was in a northern cathedral that the vergers complained to the dean that the organist, by playing on the organ when there was no service going on, distracted the visitors so much that they wouldn't go round the chapels

and tombs.

"So that," replied the Dean blandly, "not only this our craft is in danger to be set at naught, but also that the temple of the great goddess Diana should be despised."

It was at that same northern fane that a recently

appointed verger, who had left a good place to assume his gown, on being invited by his exceedingly respectable master to return, said, “I had rather be a doorkeeper in the house of my God, than to dwell in the tents of ungodliness." It was in a still more remote cathedral that the old verger, on being informed by the canon that the stranger whom he was showing round was an Ecclesiastical Commissioner, one of the family of Shalmaneser, hastily moved to the visitor's right side, and explained that he kept his money in the pocket which he thus removed out of danger.

But all these and many other equally veracious anecdotes did my host affiliate on Sudchester, and I said no word of reproof. All vergers work on the same principle, that the cathedral exists for their benefit, and that they should be supreme. It follows that vergers' stories are interchangeable.

He had stories of parish clerks, which in like manner he localised in the adjacent parishes. Most of them are in print, but one purely Cheshire story, dating from 1866, has possibly been forgotten, even in the county. I will risk it after forty-two years.

It was at the time of the cattle plague, when Cheshire farmers were threatened with absolute ruin, that in a country church one afternoon the choir burst into a pathetic hymn, of which I remember only one

verse:

There's not a cow, or ox, or beast,

But takes it out of hand;

And soon we'll have no beasts at all

To dwell within the land.

The farmers wept bitterly, and said it was too touching : but the Rector said to the clerk, when they got into the

vestry, "Why, Thomas, what was that psalm you were singing? Was it one of David's?'

"Deevid!" said the clerk in bitter scorn, "Deevid never wrote hanythink loike that in hall 'is born dees : that wur a bit of moy puttin' tergither."

I remember how I pleased the old man by capping his story with a Midland counties' story, told me by the vicar concerned therein :

They had begun the Athanasian Creed, and in the front seat, right before the old three-decker of pulpit, readingdesk, and clerk's pew, stood an old man searching in vain for the unaccustomed formulary. The vicar hastily whispered to the clerk below him, "Find his place." The clerk obeyed, and then half-turning round muttered with withering contempt:

Whoy, 'ee were a-rootlin i' the Psawms!"

Of course these varied reminiscences were not all produced at one meeting; they were spread over many years, and some recurred more than once, more than twice. The story about Dick, the blower, for instance, was a hardy annual, and if the Rector had not produced it in any year, I should have been aggrieved.

CHAPTER XX

CHAUNTERS' GARDEN

"I'll fetch a turn about the garden."

-Cymbeline.

ONE year Chaunters asked me to excuse him for half an hour or more, while he took a funeral: the garden was his special delight, and though in October there was little to see, I should find the gardener there, and he would show me what was left. The flowers needed no apology: there was a blaze of dahlias, and I know not what else: and there was Robert Diggle, the gardener, whose acquaintance I had made before.

He was digging away exactly as I had seen him in the previous October; and I thought of the historic Andrew Fairservice:

Am trenching up the sparry-grass, and am gaun to saw sum Misegun beans.

Do you trench up asparagus in October? and what are Misegun beans? I did not ask Robert, because it would have revealed the depth of my ignorance, and the school might have got to know it. How could I examine in botany, or in the principles of agriculture, if I didn't know when to trench up sparry-grass? It seemed wiser to con

gratulate the good man on the appearance of the garden, and on the bright show of flowers, which I did not venture to specify more particularly: I added it was evident that the rector was as keen a gardener as ever.

The remark was not well received: it implied that Robert was not entitled to the undivided glory of the dahlias and things. He grunted, and then conceded that the rector worked hard. "It's a pastime," he said, and then handsomely added, "and I think he does good : why, theer's a manny little thengs, as it doon't matter how you put 'em in." Poor rector!

Alas! what boots it with incessant care

To tend the homely, slighted (gardener's) trade.

Robert's thoughts were elsewhere, while I filled and lighted a pipe. "Ah heerd yo' was about, sir our skule,' aven't yo'?"

I admitted it.

been to

""Twas our Lizzie tould me theer were a streenge mon as 'ad been, and hoo1 weren't a-goin to skule anny moor. 'Whoy, whativer's to do?' ah says and hoo says, the mon come and called hoo Jenny, and hoo towld 'im hoo weren't called Jenny that were Jenny Miller in yon desk; and the mon asted hoo to come 'ome with 'im wheer 'ee lived, and hoo were froightened. Lor' bless thee, wench,' ah says, 'yon were th' inspector : 'ee wouldna hurt yo'.' Na, na, dadda,' hoo says, 'ah bain't a-gooin to skule anny moor.'" And Robert leant on his spade and roared. Then he added, apologetically, "Hoo isn't only fower, a-gooin' foive."

I suggested that if she had been more than four years

1 66

Hoo," or more properly "oo," in the Counties Palatine stands for "she" or "her."