I remember as a lad attending a church which owned a magnificent specimen of the parish clerk.  He used to wear a dress-coat, and it was his practice to follow the clergy from the vestry, and while the vicar and curate were saying their private prayers in the reading-desk in which they both sat together, the venerable clerk with measured tread passed down the centre of the church affably smiling and bowing right and left to such of the parishioners as were in his favour.  In due course he arrived in the singers’ gallery, where he had the place of honour under the organ:  the good old man was leading soloist, which we well knew when Jackson’s Te Deum was sung on the greater festivals, for there was always a solemn pause before the venerable worthy quavered forth his solo.

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It was a pew-rented church, and once a quarter strangers were startled, when the vicar from his place in the reading-desk had announced the various engagements of the week, to hear the clerk’s majestic voice from his place in the gallery add, “And I beg to announce” (with a marked emphasis on the I) “that the churchwardens will attend in the vestry on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday next, at eight o’clock, for the purpose of receiving pew rents and letting seats for the ensuing quarter.”

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As touching parish clerks, it is of interest to recall that William Maybrick was clerk of St. Peter’s, Liverpool, from 1813-48.  He had two sons, William, who became clerk, and Michael, who was organist at St. Peter’s for many years.  William Maybrick, junior, had also two sons, James, whose name was so much before the public owing to the circumstances surrounding his death, and Michael, better known as “Stephen Adams,” the famous composer and singer.

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The following is a curious letter from a parish clerk to his vicar after giving notice to quit the latter’s service.  He was clerk of the parish of Maldon, Essex.

DEAR AND REV.  SIR,

I avail myself of the opportunity of troubling your honour with these lines, which I hope you will excuse, which is the very sentiments of your humble servant’s heart.  Ignorantly, rashly, but reluctantly, I gave you warning to leave your highly respected office and most amiable duty, as being your servant, and clerk of this your most well wished parish, and place of my succour and support.

But, dear Sir, I well know it was no fault of yours nor from any of my most worthy parishioners.  It were because I thought I were not sufficiently paid for the interments of the silent dead.  But will I be a Judas and leave the house of my God, the place where His Honour dwelleth for a few pieces of money?  No.  Will I be a Peter and deny myself of an office in His Sanctuary and cause me to weep bitterly?  No.  Can I be so unreasonable as to deny, if I like and am well, to ring that solemn