30 My New Zealand Garden 



he was in bed, and asked him why they did not 

 have their anthem that evening. The boy, all 

 surprised, started up, saying that he was confident 

 that they had their very best, and gave the angel 

 the name of the composer. Then the angel said, 

 ' It never came up.' I often think of those 

 country services and their antiquated surround- 

 ings with lingering affection. 



The hymn tunes were limited in number, but 

 that was as well, as it enabled the labouring class, 

 of whom the congregation was composed, to learn 

 the words, for a large majority of them could not 

 read. But it seemed to me they all joined in, and 

 I know that none could have been in that un- 

 happy condition of the plough-boy at St. Paul's, 

 who said, ' As they all sang what they liked, I sang 

 " Bob and Jo." ' I used to watch the men uncover 

 their heads when they got to the church door, 

 and I thought how reverently they did it, and 

 it seemed to add to the sanctity which pervaded 

 those precincts. Some of the women would even 

 drop a curtsey, and the men touch their hats as 

 they entered, out of sheer reverence for the House 

 of God, and for the sacredness of the occasion of 

 their coming together. I know that those country 

 folk valued their services, for, if I may so express 

 it, they seemed religiously business-like. Some 

 had a long way to trudge on muddy roads, but 

 those poor little bells reminded them of the 



