There they were, but the right one
was hard to find. Some had two syllables too much to suit the tune, and
some had two syllables too little. But it did not matter very greatly,
and we were accustomed to add a word here, or leave out one there; it
was all in a day's work, and we went home with the comfortable
reflection that we had done our best.
But a pitch-pipe was not usually the sole instrument. Many village
churches had their band, composed of fiddles, flutes, clarionets, and
sometimes bassoons and a drum. "Let's go and hear the baboons," said a
clerk mentioned by the Rev. John Eagles in his Essays. In order to
preserve strict historical accuracy, I may add that this invitation was
recorded in the year 1837, and therefore could have no reference to
evolutionary theories and the Descent of Man. This clerk, who invariably
read "Cheberims and Sepherims," and was always "a lion to my mother's
children," looking not unlike one with his shaggy hair and beard, was
not inviting a neighbour to a Sunday afternoon at the Zoo, but only to
hear the bassoons.
When the clerk gave out the hymn or Psalm, or on rare occasions the
anthem, there was a strange sound of tuning up the instruments, and then
the instruments wailed forth discordant melody. The clerk conducted the
choir, composed of village lads and maidens, with a few stalwart basses
and tenors.
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