VICAR’S REMINISCENCES
AMUSING INCIDENTS OF PARISH LIFE The following account of fifty yeai-s of parish work by the Rev. C. N, Wright, published in the ‘ Eipon Observer ’ (Yorkshire), was handed to us by his son, Mr Harold Wright, a member of the Exhibition Orchestra, who is now in business in Dunedin:— A recent ordination in York Minster recalled my own ordination in the same Cathedral fifty years ago. That was tho time when Dr Bickersteth was the Diocesan, and W. R. Frceraantle the Dean. The late Canon Clayton and the late Bishop of Richmond were amongst the examining chaplains, and Mr Samuel "Wise the Diocesan secretary. Dr Crow, then a young man, with dark hair, was the organist, and after the evening service he walked with me up Hutton Bank to discuss matters musical.
Ordained, at twenty-four, I got my first living at twenty-seven, retiring at the end of forty-four years; three years as curate and forty-one as vicar. Retirement was caused by throat trouble, for one Sunday morning at Warclle, in Lancashire, I could not speak, and so went across to the organist, saying: “Necessity knows no law; go and read the prayers and lessons. I will play and preach, if possible. In grief and pain, I spoke for four or five minutes. The organist, a sharp, young schoolmaster, took his part satisfactorily, and the next clay f reported the irregularity to the Archdeacon, getting absolution, and the Bishop’s (Dr Knox) leave to retire. During these fifty years I must have occupied the pulpit between 5,000 and 6,000 times. Three sermons a Sunday have often been delivered, and my usual annual holiday consisted of one Sunday. (The parson’s week, which is a layman’s fortnight.) On half a dozen occasions, or less, I got two Sundays. Sunday school teaching was the rule. Twice on Sundays up to the last few years. Several incidents of clerical life are worth repeating. Visiting a man, who was a drinker, etc., I had to keep my eye on the door for fear he should jump out of bed and try to eject me. • I calmly read to him Ezekiel ii., remarking; “ You see, clear friend, what our office is.” He lowered his head, and after a short prayer, I left. On my second visit he was a converted man, and recovered to he a good husband and father and steady British workman of the old type, it is an incident of this kind, and not ovations, or even church building, which is the joy of a minister’s heart. Twelve calls in the afternoon was my maximum, but seldom possible. The late Bishop of Burnley was my follow-curate at the Parish Church. Knaresborpugh, and ho and ] had to take a seifbolronm service on alternate Sunday evenings in Forest Lane. Wc had to preach in an old M.A. gown, which in one sense was holy, being full of holes, into which wo had to change before the “faithful,” there being no vestry. I knew that it would only be a matter of time before one of us came a “ cropper.” The absolute failure to find the armholes fell to me one night, when I had to resume the surplice. The congregation had difficulty in singing through the hymn, and i did not blame them. The oicl rag was burnt the following morning. And although my vicar (the lato Canon Crosthwaite, father of the late Bishop of Beverley) was seventy-five, he ordered a new gown and passed the Knaresborongh one on to the mission. I always had the objections to a minister in his robes smiling. But one Good Friday morning I was trie! to the'uttermost. There was in the village a Wesleyan family, the farmer’s wife being the stoutest woman I ever met. It was nothing short of a calamity with her, and she had no’joy of life whatever. It was the rule of these W’esleyans to attend church once a year —i.e., on Good Friday. The good woman came on her son’s arm late after breakfast, just as we were finishing the 23nd Psalm (read, not sung). Hearing my voice on opening the door, she naturally _ looked at me to sec whence the voice camo. I looked to §ee wjb,o was coming and had read off
verso: “All such a,s be, fat on earth have eaten and worshipped.” The diverting point was that the poor creature should come once a year to church to hear that. This happened forty-six rears ago. One Sunday, when the corn was all cut and ready for leading, the barometer fell, the heavens clouded over, and there was every indication of heavy rain. We had a prayer meeting after the service to commit the matter to the Almighty, in faith in His power and His love. The air cleared, the “glass” went gradually up, and there was not one drop of rain. The following Sunday saw the corn gathered in; we held a praise meeting after the service. The church was built minus am architect, and after 21 years a rich member of my congregation, the late Mr Samuel Brown (of Williams and Brown, Leeds, bankers), and of Lofthouse Hill, renovated the church at a cost of £1,200. Six weeks after the reopening Bishop Boyd Carpenter offered me Patrick Brompton and Hunters. I found Hunters Church worse tham Arkendale, a badly-furnished, barn-looking place. I managed to collect £320 by letter writing (no printers), and employed the same architect, Mr Th. Winns, of Leeds, who was as successful ns ho was at Arkendale. A short time after the reopening the bishop offered mo “ Kirby on the Moor.”
After 8J years I exchanged from “ Kirby ” to Waulle, to be near Owen’s College for educational purposes. There was a great work to be done at Wardle, 'not only in parochial visitations and preparing people for a better world, but in a new burial ground, now church bell, cloak rooms made, partitfms, asphalting playground, etc. i cannot resist the temptation to narrate two marriage episodes at_ Wardle. (1) The bridegroom was a big, burly ox wrestler. Ho had won prizes in the craft. But when he came to his part in the marriage service he was in tears and could, not speak. (He had been a good son, and had just din<rl with his mother for the last time.) I suggested that the bride should say her part first, after which I said: “ Do you think you can manage it now?” “I think 1 can.” And all went well. (2) 1 found it conducive to good behaviour in church, when many spectators were waiting, to play the organ for half an hour. * We had just done “Be not afraid” at an anniversary, and on one occasion I played it amongst other items, when a precocious little boy of eleven or twelve was heard to say: “Ah! ‘Be not afraid,’ a very appropriate piece to play at a wedding.” Nothing pleases a newly-married man better than to hear the bride called by her new name, Mrs So and So. I have seen bridegrooms so gratified that they felt in their pockets for the fees. They thought that is worth paying for. There is no trouble in getting fees if one kno-ws how to manage it. But consideration fox; your space makes me forbear
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Evening Star, Issue 19407, 16 November 1926, Page 8
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1,218VICAR’S REMINISCENCES Evening Star, Issue 19407, 16 November 1926, Page 8
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