The Village Choir.

Timaru Herald, Volume LXXXI, Issue 12480, 17 September 1904, Page 2 (Supplement)

The Village Choir.

The organist, whose salary of five pounds per annum, paid in monthly instalments, was a perpetual reminder to him' that humble folk must keep their place and never interfere in the quarrels of their betters, was careful to avoid intervention in the polite discussion which had arisen in the neighbourhood of hiß instrument. He sat staring blankly at the pages of the tune-book. Around him, in that corner of the chapel known as the singingpew, were grouped two or three men, as manv women, a few boys, and t a couple of girls, their faces lighted by the gleam of a swinging lamp. High over them, on the right hand, towered the pulpit, ghostlike in its wrappings of white holland dust-slieets; beyond them lay the gloom of the unlighted chapel. There was the mournful March wind sobbing among the elm trees outside. " Shall we go on again/ Mrs Simpson?" the organist said, meekly. " With due respect to you, Mestur Webster, as reckons to be organist and teacher," replied Mrs Simpson, whose bonnet, dimly outlined' against the pulpit, seemed to quiver a good deal as she spoke, "I should say 'at you'd better ask Miss Jeffcock. Them as reckons to know best should ha' the first right to speak," "I'm sure I don't want to make any unpleasantness,'.' said Miss Jeffcock, feeling the appeal of a dozen pair of eyes, ' 'but really, Mrs Simpson, I never heard the tune taken in that way before. In the chapel that I attended before I came here "

" Oh, you needn't throw your grand town chappils up at us, m'm," interrupted Mrs. Simpson. ■" We all on us know 'at we'ra noDbut poor iggejant villagers as never heerd nothing at "all i' the: way o' mewsic. But let me tell you, Miss Jeffcock, 'at we've sung that there tewn i' this chappil for a many years, and it's allavs been tekken i' that way—so now!" ""Well, it's wrong," repeated Miss Jeffcock. " I know, of course, that it's easy to fall into bad habits "

"Oh, is it, m'm?" said Mrs Simpson, with great sarcasm. " Bad habits, indeed ! Well, I niver thought to be miscalled i' the chappil 'at I've attended iver sin' I were a young gal, nor 'at my husband 'ud sit theer, quiet, to hear me accused o' such things." Mr Simpson, who, in concert with the other' men', had been engaged in endeavouring to penetrate the darkness, and to seem unconscious that anything was happening, wriggled uncomfortably in his seat and twiddled his thumbs.

" Why, Marier," he said at last. " I don't think 'at t' young lady means onny harm, and it's- poor wark fratchin' i' t' chappil. Lets goa on wi' t' practice—we hev a new tewn or two to try owery it, hevn't we, Mester Webster?" " I don't mean iiny harm, certainly," Miss Jeffcock hastened to say, " but itseems so silly to sing a tune in the wrong wav —it's just as easy to sing it in the right one. Now, Mr Webster, what do you say ?" Mr Webster, who usually supped with Mr and Mrs Simpson after the weekly choir practice, played a few imaginary chords.

" Well, you see, Miss Jeffcock," he replied, " we've always been in the habit of taking it in that way, ae Mrs Simpson says. We've got used to that way, and it- really doesn't matter." "Oh!" said Miss Jeffcock. "Well, of course, if you like to turn crochets into quavers and minims into remibreves, you can. but .... "

•' Beggin 1 your pardon, m'm," snid Mrs Simpson, " but them Eyetalian terms is beyond poor iggerant villagers, like th' present cornp'ny, 'ceptin' yourself, m'm. We don't know nothing about them—we tek a tewn fast or we tek it slow, accordin' as we think good, and accordin' to the hymn it's set to. If it's a rejoicin' sort of hymn, up-liftin' to th' sperrits, as it were, we tek the tewn quick; if it's a sorrowful hymn, about sad things, we tek it slow. So now, m'nl." " And talking about words, 1 ' said Miss Jeffcock, " I might point out that there's a sad mistake in' pronunciation in the line you were singing just now. You Bang it :

' And the koyrs that dwell on high' —it should be prondlaced kwires, MrSimpson, not koyrs." " Thnnldn' you, m'm, for your advice " soid Mrs Simpson, " but it's allays been held to be koyrs i' this chappil, and we've sat under as highly eddicated ministers i' that pulpit as what you have. And now," continued Mrs_ Simpson, rising and tying her bonnet-strings, "as theer's to be naught else, appeerantly, but fataltfindin'—a thing as has nivei - happened dewrin' the twelve years as I've been leadin' singer i' this chappil!—we'll consider the practice at an end, theer bein' no ewse i.' Ktnyin' to be contradicted at every turn. " So, Mestur Webster, you'll be pleased to lock up that theer American organ, what me an' Simpson bowt out o' my butter an' egg money and presented to th' chappil, as any one can see from th' brass plate as arnyments th' top, and you can give me the key, and we'll go home. And I wish you good-night-, Miss Jeffcock, and many thanks foT your hints and information, m'm. I'm sure we ought to feel highly honoured 'at a town-bvqwt-np lady like you should demean herself + o si'.iT wi' the likes of us."

The organist was not invited to sup at Mrs Simpson's hospitable board that night, and he went home to the market-town five miles away feeling gloomy and sad. Next day, meeting the minister, he told him of what had occurred, and the minister went out to Buttercrop and tried to make peace. Miss Jeffcock was reasonably amenable, but said she didn't like to be made ridiculous by standing up in a singing pew with people who mispronounced their words and disregarded the music, and the minister went on to take a cup of tea with Mrs Simpson. He meant well, poor man, but he made a great mistake when he gently remarked that Miss Jeffcock might be taken as ,an authority on matters of pronunciation, and that she had passed an examination is singing at the Royal Academy of Music.

" Indeed, sir !" said Mrs Simpson. "No doubt in time Miss Jeffcock 'll present th' chappil with a fine organ, like they hev' in th' church, and the American as came out of my butter-an'-egg money 'll be forgotten. Simpson, carve th' minister a little more o' th' cold ham." It chanced that it was the minister's turn ta officiate at Buttercrop the following Sunday, and when he arrived there he found Mr Webster hovering in the vestry with an anxious face.

" Mrs Simpson hasn't come with the key of the organ," he explained. " I'll run across and get it—l should think their clocks .are wrong." " Do," said the minister. " It's past service time now," and he went up into the pulpit and began the exercises. But

presently he felt a big tug at his sleeve, ! and he looked down and saw Mr Webster's white face. I

"Mrs Simpson's taken her husband and all the children to Cornchester in. the trap," whispered Mr Webster piteously. "And eiie's got the key of the organ with her, and she left word that she was quite sure we could do without either lier or the organ for once, and perhaps Miss Jeffcock would start the singing." _ The minister sighed wearily, and, turning to his congregation, gave out a hymn. "I find,"'li:> said, "that owing to a little mistake we shall have to dispense with instrumental music to-day. We must all sing our best and heartiest." Then lie struck the tune himself.