Every one
knows the old story of how, through some inadvertence, the minister had
not looked out to see that the great man was in his accustomed pew. He
began, "When the wicked man--" The parish clerk tugged him by his coat,
saying, "Please, sir, he hasn't come yet!" As to whether the clergyman
took the hint and waited for "the wicked man" history sayeth not.
Another clerk told a young deacon, who was impatient to begin the
service, "You must wait a bit, sir, we ain't ready." He then clambered
on the Communion table, and peered through the east window, which
commanded a view of the door in the wall of the squire's garden. "Come
down!" shouted the curate. "I can see best where I be," replied the
imperturbable clerk; "I'm watching the garden door. Here she be, and the
squire." Whereupon he clambered down again, and without much further
delay the service proceeded.]
Our _parish_ church we seldom attended, for the simple reason that the
aged vicar was scarcely audible; but there the clerk, after robing the
vicar, mounted to the gallery above the vestry, where, taking a front
seat, he watched for the exit of the vicar (whose habit it was to wait
for the young men, who also waited in the church porch for him to begin
the service!), and then, taking his seat at the organ, commenced the
voluntary.
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