Evenings from Home.

Observer, Volume 1, Issue 1, 18 September 1880, Page 4

Evenings from Home.

No l.— At St. Paul's Church.

It was a cold wet Sunday evening, and I did'nt feel at all inclined to turn out. The fire burned brightly in the grate, an easy chair stood handy, and on an adjacent table lay a new file of that most delectable of newspapers the "Saturday Review." To leave such joys for a dryasdust sermon seemed hard — very hard — but duty, as you may possibly have observed, is often unpleasant, and having resolved in the interests of our new journal to make a tour of the Auckland churches, I heroically determined to begin at once, and routing out the essential prayer-book and orthodox top-hat sallied forth in the direction of St. Paul's. My selection of St. Paul's was not altogether accidental. Just about that time the incumbent happened %n be having a row with his choir, and all Auckland was talking about it. I remembered having noticed that friends and enemies alike condemned Mr. Nelson. The latter seemed especially savage, and even those of the congregation who supported their pastor admitted that he enjoyed playing the part of Providence junior. "For a small man" said one "he is the most masterful fellow I ever met, and lays down the law in an infernally exasperating manner." Another parishioner was cA r en le*s complimentary. "Nelson do make my blood boil," he observed warmly, " but 'es a delicate bit of a man and people humours 'im I s'pose." Th'-se observations, together with many more of a kindred character interested me in the autocratic ecclesiastic, and it was with feelings of considerable curiosity I looked forward to hearing him hold forth from the pulpit. The exterior of St. Paul's is the reverse of imposing. Strangers viewing the sacred edifice from the harbour have Yen known to mistake it for a gaol, and when assured of the mistake to evince incredulity. The inside, however, partially makes up for external defects. It is plain enough, but what little decoration there is is in good taste and doesn't jar the eye.

When one remembers the sky blue ceilings with gold stars, the pretty 'bad art, and the general air of tawdriness, which seem to be the' prevail ng feature* of many colonial churches one feels thankful for the deoorous simplicity of St. Paulas. But " revenons a nos moutons." On arriving at the church door I became conscious that many others were— to use a vulgtir expression — " on the same lay" as myself. There appeared to be a large number of strangers coming in, and the unfortunate verger was scurrying about endeavouring to attend to half-a-dozen people at once. Having heard a great deal ot the politeness of this official I waited confidently for a central seat, and was therefore proportionately disgusted to be consigned to a hard form at the side and told to wait thTe till the service commenced. Then followed a bad five minutes. Between twenty and thirty people scurried bye to their seats, and, the passage being narrow, a large proportion either trod on my favourite corn or kicked my belltopper. Dismal forebodings as to what would occur if I were obliged to fpend the ensuing two hmirs jammed thus painfully against the Avail and opposite an awfully costumed personage, redolent of peppermint and patchouli, were beginning to overcome me when the overture — I mean the voluntary — struck up, and the organist played a few bars of such exquisite melody as for a moment or two carried me far away from this work-a-day world. Unfortunately it did'nt last long. A couple of minute 3 later we were standing up and bawling at the tops of our voices the first hymn. At this crisis two things occurred. First I discovered that Mr. Tebbs and not Mr. Nelson was about to conduct the service ; and sec'ndly, the verger, having repented of his harshness, conducted me to a seat in the very front of the church. It was Mr. Dyer's pew, and I hereby thank him for permitting me to sit there. The chief objection to the position is that one cannot see either the parson or the congregation ; but if you come to worship this of course doesn't matter. Immediately in front were a happy family who looked so homely and pleasant, I began to wish I knew them. Th« elder son was a splendid specimen of colonial youth , tall , well built, muscular, and handsome. All through the Litany (which by the way is too imich. of a good thing at evening service) I was admiring the breadth of his back and reflecting what a superb guardsman he would make. No doubt I should have been better employed praying, but that, I believe, is one of the last things people do in church. Mr. Tebbs conducted the service indifferently well. Parsons, according to my experience, do one of two things. Either they gabble the prayers in a " for-what-we-are - going - to - Lord-make-us-truly-thank-ful - cold - mutton - again '• kind of manner or else they drawl. Mr. Tebbs is a better hand at the business than many so that perhaps it may seem captious to find fault. The lessons were entrusted to Mr. VVorthingtnn. The first was the story about Elisha and the Shunamite woman, and very well he recited it. Few people know how to read the bible without throwing an unnatural and portentous solemnity into the voice but Mr Worthington is one of those few. I listened much interested until an apropos memory of school life flashed across me. We boys were being examined one day about this very incident of Elisha and the Shunamite woman. The master asked by what means Elisha brought the child to life, and for some minutes there was a silence. At length a boy held up his hand to indicate that he knew. "Well sir," said the master. Please sir Elisha laid his stick across the youth and he recovered " was the well meaning but astounding reply, and loud laughter echoed down the school-room. The choir did full justice to the Magnificat. I dou't pretend to be a full-blown musical critic like M. Caillau, but I know that was good. Mr Gordon Gooch and Mrs Stephens sung solos exquisitely, in fact when they ceased a perceptible echo of suppressed applause ran through the church. The gentleman next me had evidently hard work to prevent clapping outright, and several others appeared equally moved. It is easy to see that it is the choir which draws such good houses to St. Paul's. Mr Nelson may be the mo-t eloquent of pulpit orators, but I rather fancy if Mr Swallow, Mr Gooch, Mr Brett, Mrs Stephens and a few others were to leave the church the bulk of the congregation would follow them. Mr Teobs preached from the VII. chap, of St. Mark "He hath done all things well.' The chief merit of the discourse was its brevity. I can't say I caught the speakers drift though I tried hard to f ollow him. There were a great many platitudes, a good deal of warm exhortation and a« occasional slap on the openbible. Why is it I wonder a parson always .stays "I hope perchance my words this evening may be the means of awaking some erring eoul" when he knows for a fact there is absolutely nothing in his sermon at all likely to accomplish that end. Such observations seems to me unnecessary and to savour of clap-trap. f The sermon over, plates were sent round with business-like celerity, and in five fainutes Professor Swallow was playing us o\ii with a triumphal version of " Grandfathers jClock." An agreeable reflection that occurred to rneas we were pushing and shoving slowly along towards the door was to the effect that if ever there is a fire or panic at St. Paul's two thirds of the congregation will inevitably be killed. The Philistine.