W. (the parish clerk)
and two other men in the desk singing to "Hanover," with a certain
apparent self-complacency in nice smock-frocks, "My soul, praise the
Lord, speak good of His Name," etc. The little congregation listened
with seeming contentment, and it is worth recording that the parson
always preached in the surplice. I suppose Pusey was a boy at that time,
but the custom in this church was not a novelty, whether right or wrong.
It was not the clerk's fault that the hour of service was hastened by
some seventy minutes one afternoon, so that one or two invariably late
worshippers were astounded to be driven backwards from the church by the
congregation returning from service. But so it was. The really
well-meaning kind-hearted parson was withal a keen sportsman and a
worthy gentleman, and with his "long dogs" and man was on his horse and
away for Illsley Downs race course to come off next day, and his dogs
(they won) must not be fatigued. Old P.W., the clerk, reached a good
age, an inoffensive man.
I was rather interested when residing in my parish in grand old
Yorkshire to observe two steady-looking and rather elderly men, each
aided by a strong walking-stick, coming to church with praiseworthy
regularity and reverence. I found, on making their acquaintance, that
they were brothers who had recently come into the parish, natives of
"the Peak," or of the locality near the Peak, which was not many miles
distant from my parish.
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