fond of it," said the clergyman, "but have little knowledge
of it. I wish I had more," he added in a tone of so much regret as
to cause his hearer to look curiously at him. "Yes," he said, "I wish I
knew more--or less. It's the bane of my existence," declared the rector
with a half laugh. John looked inquiringly at him, but did not respond.

"I mean the music--so called--at St. James's," said Mr. Euston. "I don't
wonder you smile," he remarked; "but it's not a matter for smiling with
me."

"I beg pardon," said John.

"No, you need not," returned the other, "but really--Well, there are a
good many unpleasant and disheartening experiences in a clergyman's
life, and I can, I hope, face and endure most of them with patience, but
the musical part of my service is a never-ending source of anxiety,
perplexity, and annoyance. I think," said Mr. Euston, "that I expend
more nerve tissue upon that branch of my responsibilities than upon all
the rest of my work. You see we can not afford to pay any of the
singers, and indeed my people--some of them, at least--think fifty
dollars is a great sum for poor little Miss Knapp, the organist. The
rest are volunteers, or rather, I should say, have been pressed into the
service. We are supposed to have two sopranos and two altos; but in
effect it happens sometimes that neither of a pair will appear, each
expecting the other to be on duty. The tenor, Mr. Hubber, who is an
elderly man without any voice to speak of, but a very devout and
faithful churchman, is to be depended upon to the extent of his
abilities; but Mr. Little, the bass--well," observed Mr. Euston, "the
less said about him the better."

"How about the organist?" said John. "I think she does very well,
doesn't she?"

"Miss Knapp is the one redeeming feature," replied the rector, "but she
has not much courage to interfere. Hubber is nominally the leader, but
he knows little of music." Mr. Euston gave a sorry little laugh. "It's
trying enough," he said, "one Sunday with another, but on Christmas and
Easter, when my people make an unusual effort, and attempt the
impossible, it is something deplorable."

John could not forbear a little laugh. "I should think it must be pretty
trying," he said.

"It is simply corroding," declared Mr. Euston.

They sat for a while smoking in silence, the contemplation of his woes
having apparently driven other topics from the mind of the harassed
clergyman. At last he said, turning to our fri