THE THREE PARSONS.

Evening Star, Issue 6480, 22 December 1883, Page 2 (Supplement)

THE THREE PARSONS.

Which I don't belong to the 'Stablished Church myself, sir, as am a Independent, a-beggiu' your pardon, as I know you for to be a Church parson. Bat yer see what I say is this : You take a lot o' men like us fisher folk, as works 'ard all the week, and mostly under command, a-doiu' what the skipper tells 113 —'aulin in ropes, setfcin' sails, draggin' nets, and one thing and another as you naterally don't know nothing about—with nobody for to feel authority over like, 'ceptin' maybe a boy or two, what anybody can knock about. Well, now, if so be as we chaps go in for the 'Stablished Church, we ain't nobody no more at church than aboard the boats ; we ain't got no woice in what's to be done, and we ain't got no sort of power or command like. But it We goes in for the Methodies or the Baptists (which is a lot, howsomdever, as I don't 'old with at all, as I knowed one old man who almost got's death through a-being kep' under too long, consekens of the minister a-lettin' 'im slip, and 'is legs gettin' entangled in the sheet); but if, t say, we join any of the sectiscs, why we get made a lot of—some being Btooards, some deacons, and some a-takin' round the 'at. You should see me and old Cockles foller our minister out 0' the westry 0' Sundays, or a-makin' the collection arterwarda, and our names called out sometimes from the pulpit —" Brother Cockles and Brother Coleman.''

Then> again, if we don't 'old with what our minister preaches, or if we seem to want a change, we can tell 'im to look out for a call to some other place; and afore we engages a hand, we have a lot down on trial. We pays our money and we takes our choice.

Now, gen'rally speaking, when we're on the look-out for a minister, we have one chap down one Sunday, another on the follerin' Sunday, and so on till were satisfied —one done, t'other come on. But it so happened one time we wanted a minister, we all seemed most dreadful particular, we c juldn't satisfy ourselves. We had six down runnin', but none of 'em didn't suit. At last, by some little misunderstanding we had three come down to preach their trial sermons on the same Sunday, and we arranged it that the Rev. Paul Duster Bhould preach in tho mornin', the Rev. Algernon Sydney Crackles in the afternoon, and the Rev. John Brown in the evenin'.

When the Sunday came we was to try 'cm; we was all a-gog like. "You mark my words, mate," says Cockles to me in the westry, "there'll be some close sailin'. I'm rather inclined," he continners very thoughtful, "to bet on the old gentl'm'n wot's got the runnin' this morning, as is strict orthodox, and appears to me to carry a deal of canvas." " 'Ere he comes," I says, and sure enough he were just tacking across the road under convoy of Bill Tubbs, the butterman, as was understood to have took 'im in hand.

A dreadful severe-looking man were Mr Duster, with a himmense head and face, both on 'em bald and shining, and 'is head all over bumps. He certainly were awful hirapressive to look at. The sermon ho preached were severe orthodox, and the language quite as uncommon as you could ha' got in a 'Stablished Church—Greek and Latin, and all sorts. " 'Ere's words," I says to Cockles.

"Words, and sound doctrine too, mate," says Cockles—as was wery particular about doctrine.

And surelie we got enough about doctrine that mornin', for all the sermon was a-up'oldin' of all our sec' believes' and a-showin' 'ow all other sectises is wrong. The Latin quotations went down himmense, and I see several ladies overcome by the Greek. The sermon, in fact, caused a tremenjious sensation, and Tubbs trotted 'is man away in high sperits, and lookin' proud and triumphant, as though the whole thing was finished and 'is man engoge.

In the arternoon we meets for to hear the second preacher, as turned out bo wery poetical and 'eart-breakin' that he seemed fairly like takin' the wind out of the other's sails. His woice had a beautiful shiveryshakery in it, and he wep* that copious I thought sometimes we should have to bale the pulpit out, and ask 'im to weep over the side. Lor ! how he shot about that blessed pulpit! first one side, then t'other, 'is eyes arollin' and 'i3 face purple, a gurglin' and a-yellin', and a-whisperin' and a-shoutin'. He were a lean, pale man, regular poeticallooking, with long hair, and a nose a trifle red at the kuob.

At half-arter six, we meets for to hear the last peacher. Only a few on ua saw 'im before he got into the pulpit; but we quite agreed that let alone 'in name, which were dead agin 'im, he wasn't the man for our money ; and I see at once ho didn't go down like with the congregation. He was only about twenty-five, and a trifle under-sized, and at first bight didn't look anything at all out o' the common ; but somehow I faucied there was a something in 'is eye and hangin' about 'is mouth that showed he'd good stuff in 'im. Howsomdever, I didn't think he'd do for us, whatever he'd got stowed away. Well, he preached his sermon—a short straightaway sermon, what everybody could understand. It wasn't doctrinal, nor it were not poetical, but just practical, atellin' ue as how everybody in tho world had dooties to perform, from queen to pauper, and then a-going on about our dooties, and how we should stick to'em and "never say die"

like—sort o* standin* by the ship, however" the winda might roar and the fied rage. Artei s tlw meeting we had a little gatherin' In the westry—just a few on us to talk matters over, don't yer know—and the only question seemed to be, should we go in for doctrine and elect the dootrinal chap or wote for the poetical blokts We seemed about equally diwided On the point, nobody sayih nothin' fcbbufc the young chap what had just pteaOhed, Words got rather 'igh at last, and Tubbs (aa though considered conwertcd by some, were in my opinion not quite done yet) got so excited about Cockles back in'the other man that I believe if Tubbs hruWo been small and unnatural fat he would ha' itruckCockles.

On the Wednesday night there Waß to be a church meetin' to settle about ©lectin' one on "em, but nor« of Us knowed when we separated that Sunday night how wery soon our choice was to be made.

I reckon that Sunday night \Vill never be forgotten, mister, so long as this 'ere place has got a boat on the water or a house on the shore. The night of tho great storm, we call it, when the Spanish San Pedro went to pieces. I 'ad a look out to sea accordin' to custom afore I turned in, and I see a weasel in the offing, which I made out -to be a Londonbound ship. I didn't much like the look of things, and I said a bit of a prayer for all poor chaps ailoat and in danger that night. Well, sir, an old Bailor like me always sleep 3 with one eye open, so when tho winds began to gather strong, and the waves to tumble aad roll, and dash against the jetty there, I woke up. the wind got higher and higher, r&ttlln' the winder-panes, shriekin' and "Owlin', and the sound of the risin' waves got louder and louder. All of a sudden I thought of that ship 1 had seen pasaiDg, and out I jumped from my bunk into my clothes, clapped on a sou'-wester, and made for the beach.

Lord save us, what a night it was ! You see the black rock out there, sir? Well, you've never seen that covered since you've been 'ere, I know, and you might stop for years aud never sen it covered; but that night the great black waves were beatia' right over the top and bang across the jetty. Tho sky was just as black as ink, and the wind blowin' at last fit to wake the dead. By-and-by, crack, blaze, crack went the lightnin', and boom, boom, boom, followed the thunder, the awful sound peelin' above our heads, and seemin' to roll away over that dreadful sea. Almost all tho men and women in the place were on tho beach, and even little chil'lern 'ad crept away from home, and were clingin' to their mothers' gowns. The first flash had showed us an awful sight—a Bhip, part of 'er riggin' all entangled on 'er deck, drift ia' straight on for the rocks. Nought ou earth could help 'er—there she was—a noble, handsome, craft, drivin' right ashore—drivin' fast and sure into the jaws of death. Only the hand of God itself put out from heaven could keep 'er off. The women and chil'lern were weepiu'—weepin' for brave men to die, for sailors' wives to be made widows, and sailors' little ones made orphans that night; and many a man's true heart, as we stood there grimly silent, was wild with sorrow at its own helplessness. Just as another flash of lightning lit up the scene, she struck with a great shiverin' shock; wild cries from the wreck were borne to the shore, and the women shuddered and fell on their knees, while from man to man went the question: "Can we do nothing—nothing—to help them now ? " But what could we do ? We hadn't got no lifeboat then, sir, or no rockets or such like apparatus, and we knowed that none of our boats could live in a sea like that; while, as to swimming off to the wreck, no wonder that even brave hearts quailed a bit, though a rope 'ad been fetched and was lying handy. All at once I heard a noise behind the turns round. A lot of lanterns had been lit, and I could sea everything pretty plainly. Clingin' together in the background was still the women and children, between them and us was two of the p'arsons—the poetical one on 'is knees, and t'other one, 'is hat blown clean away and hia bumps all wisible, was 'oldin' on tight to a jetty post, and giving went to the doctrine that it was God Almighty's will the poor fellows in the wreck should perish. As I said afore, every hale man in the place seemed on the beach ; but I didn't see the young preacher chap of that evenin', as I found arterwards had gone to a farm a little way up country. But just as I was thinkin' of 'im I see 'im comin', makin' with quick hasty strides towards the water. With a light spring ho jumps down on to the beach an straight on, 'is mouth set firm and steady, aud all 'is face glowin' with a light which wasn't on it in the pulpit—straight on, lookin' neither to port nor starboard, but straightforward. " Stand aside, women !" Calm aud cool he orders them, and to right and left they scatter. Straight on he comes—past the poetical parson, on 'is knees, and tho doctrinal one a-hanging to the jetty-post—on to where we mon was standin'—and then off he flings 'is hat, and coat, and boots, and takes 'old of the rope ; as though in a moment he understands all. " Lads, bear a hand !" But now we crowd round 'im, crying " Sir, you shall not go !" With his own hands he fixes on the rope to 'is body, wavin' us off as we press round 'im, and then givin' one look towards the wreck, and one look—bright and quick—up to heaven, he takes a step back, and then, " Stand aside, lads!" With a great rush everybody presses for'ard to the water's edge, and with bated breath and strainin' eyes we watched the strugglin' swimmer. Beaten, buffeted, bruised, tossed hither and thither—can he ever reach the ship ? To us on shore it seemß impossible. But God Himself, sir, must have filled that brare young man with strength for 'is daring deed for see 1 strugglin' bard, though not so strongly as at first, for 'is limbs must be all numb aud weary now, and, per'aps, even 'is heart is giving way—see, he is getting a little nearer, Nearer still—o God support 'im! Still nearer, still a little, nearer ; and the poor foreign fellows on the 'San Pedro' are crowding over the side, cheerin' 'im on with wild and thankful cries. But we on shore are silent still, for our hearts are too full for word or shout. But But at last we break that silence—break it with a shout I can almost hear yet—such a " Hurrah I " as I never heard afore or since —for at last the swimmer has reached the ship, and a great wave flings 'im almost on board; and we make out many hands stretched forth to help 'im over the ship's side. Tho women were cryin' for joy now—aye, and many a rough fisher-chap drawed 'is sleeve across 'is eyes to brush away tears he never need ha' been ashamed of.

Well, sir, every man oa that wesael, which turned out to be a London-bound Spaniard —was saved. One arter another they come ashore, and such a set-out I never did see, for blest if they didn't want to kiss and 'ug as though we'ed all been a parcel of women together. Bruised and pale, with blood still a trickling from a great ga3h in 'is head, where he must ha' struck the rocks, at last there came ashore young Parson Brown, and men, women and chil'lern, all eager to see 'is face or touch 'is hand, crowded round him.

"Lads," says old Cockles, "I can't say much, but what I do say is "—and he takes 'old tight o' young Brown's hand—"God bless Our Minister! " Hooroar! God bless Our Minister!"

"Hooroar!" I yells, and then, dreadful excited. I walks up to the Reverend Halgernon Sydney Crackles, and I says "Poetry be Mowed ! Hooroar!"

Juat then I caught sight o' that there unconverted Tsbbs. He also were laborin' under dreadful emotion, 'ia little fat body a heavin', and puffin', and tremblin'. All of a sudden he starts for'ard, pantin', and makin' straight for poor Duster, he shakos 'is little fist in the gentl'man's face, and hollers : " Doctrine be Mowed 1" "God bless Our Minister ! Hooroar!"

That is the way we elected a parson that time, sir. "Queer Fiah : Character Sketches." By Robert Overton.

Lawn-skittles is the latest idea, played with skittles on stands, and against a sort of cricket not. Skittles is really a capital game, though hitherto associated too much with public-houses. The idea of playing it on lawns is an excellent one, and the game will doubtless become popular, especially amongst thoso who are not fortunate enough to have a lawn sufficiently largo for lawntennis,