The Rev. E. G——­, Vicar of Maldon.

Communicated by the Rev. D. C. Moore: 

In the parish of Belton, Suffolk, there died in 1837 a man named Noah Pole.  He had been clerk for sixty years.  He wore a smock-frock; gave out all notices—­strayed horse, a found sheep, etc.  He was known by the nickname of “Never, never shall be,” for in this way he had for sixty years perverted the last part of the “Gloria,” “now and ever shall be.”

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In the parish of Lowestoft, Suffolk, in the forties the parish clerk’s name was Newson (would-be wits called him “Nuisance").  He was arrayed in a velvet-trimmed robe and bore himself bravely.  The way in which he mouthed “Let us sing to the glory of God” was wonderful.  But the chief amusement he afforded was the habit of hiding his face in his hands during each prayer, then towards the ending his head would rise till it rested on his thumbs, and then came out sonorously, “Awl-men.”

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At St. Mary’s, Southtown (near Great Yarmouth), in the late thirties, etc., a man named Nolloth was clerk.  He was celebrated for the uncertainty of his “H’s.”  For example:  “Let us sing to the praise and glory of God the Heighty-heighth ymn.”

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At Gorleston (the mother church of St. Mary’s, named above) a tailor named Bristow was clerk.  He was a very small man, and he had a son he wished to succeed him.  The clerk’s desk was pretty wide and they sat together.  I can see them (sixty years after), one leaning on his right arm, the other on his left; and when the time came, the duet was Ah-men from the elder and A-men from the younger, one in “tenor” the other “treble.”  We schoolboys used to say “Big pig, little pig.”

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Nicholson, the clerk of St. Bees, if any student was called away in term, invariably gave out Psalm cvii., fourth part, “They that in ships with courage bold.”  In those days there were no trains and no hymns.

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At Barkham there is an old clerk who succeeded his father half a century ago.

During the rebuilding of the church his sire, whose name was Elijah, once visited a neighbouring parish church, and arrived rather late, just when the rector was giving out the text:  “What doest thou here, Elijah?” Elijah gave a respectful salute, and replied:  “Please, sur, Barkham Church is undergoing repair, so I be cumed ’ere!”

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Canon Rawnsley tells a pathetic little story of an old clerk who begged him not to read the service so fast:  “For you moost gie me toime, Mr. Rawnsley, you moost i’deed.  You moost gie me toime, for I’ve a graaceless wife an’ two godless soons to praay for.”

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