My New Zealand Garden 29 



rung. Yet there is much deep-seated beauty to 

 remember in them ; their efficacy was more power- 

 ful in drawing young men and maidens, old men 

 and children, into that little old church, with its 

 mouldy tombs, to praise the name of the Lord, 

 than many a fine peal might be now. My dear 

 mother loved their summons, because she was so 

 real, for it takes more than sentiment to like a 

 peal of three bells, one of them cracked. Oh for 

 more such mothers! and if one of the rising 

 generation should read this, and think that they 

 don't want mothers who admire cracked bells, I 

 can only wish them the same spirit that was 

 found in her. Alas ! I inherit few of her virtues, 

 but I do inherit simplicity enough to wish for 

 nothing more advanced than the simple services 

 set forth in these four little lines : 



' Lord, how delightful 'tis to see 

 A whole assembly worship Thee ! 

 At once we sing, at once we pray, 

 In this Thy house, on this Thy day.' 



The choir does nearly all the singing for us 

 now, and we look on in a theosophistic sort of 

 way, trying to think it instead of joining. I am 

 amazed at my own voice if I try. This theme 

 suggests the appropriate mention of a little 

 chorister. The story goes, or rather the purport 

 of it, that an angel came to a little chorister when 



