254 ADVENTURES AMONG BIRDS 



His quaint appearance and manner first attracted my 

 attention: it was out of date, out of keeping, or, shall 

 we say, karmony; yet the harmony being what it was 

 in that spiritless mechanical service the little discord 

 came as a rather pleasing relief. 



He was a small thin old man with black alert hawk- 

 like eyes, white beard and a black skull-cap on his grey 

 head. His high-pitched voice and speech were those of 

 a Hampshire peasant, and it happened to be the one 

 clear articulate voice amidst the confused gabble of the 

 others, all apparently anxious to get on and finish the 

 tedious business of public worship as quickly as possible. 

 When the Psalms were read I tried, as an experiment, 

 by beginning the instant the minister ceased and rattling 

 off the words as fast as I could to keep up with the 

 others, but invariably I finished some v.ords behind. 

 They had practised the trick too long for an outsider 

 accustomed to a different method. But he, the old 

 parish clerk, had never allowed himself to be carried 

 away by the torrent: his father had taught him to go 

 slowly, and slowly he would go to the end of the 

 chapter, in the old ancient way: in a clear high but 

 quavering voice, he distinctly enunciated each word, 

 each syllable, in a measured way, finishing solemnly 

 a good many words after the congregation. The con- 

 gregation had, so to speak, thrown him off, or run 

 away from him, but he would not give in and gabble 

 or slur anything; he plodded religiously on, unregarded 

 but doing his own part of the service decently and in 

 order, under great difficulties. 



