Itwastherecollectionofthisromantictaleofformertimes，and
　　ofthegoldenlittlepoemwhichhaditsbirthplaceinthisTower，that
　　mademevisittheoldpilewithmorethancommoninterest。Thesuitof
　　armorhangingupinthehall，richlygiltandembellished，asifto
　　figureinthetournay，broughttheimageofthegallantandromantic
　　princevividlybeforemyimagination。Ipacedthedesertedchambers
　　wherehehadcomposedhispoem；Ileaneduponthewindow，and
　　endeavoredtopersuademyselfitwastheveryonewherehehadbeen
　　visitedbyhisvision；Ilookedoutuponthespotwherehehadfirst
　　seentheLadyJane。Itwasthesamegenialandjoyousmonth；thebirds
　　wereagainvyingwitheachotherinstrainsofliquidmelody；every
　　thingwasburstingintovegetation，andbuddingforththetender
　　promiseoftheyear。Time，whichdelightstoobliteratethesterner
　　memorialsofhumanpride，seemstohavepassedlightlyoverthis
　　littlesceneofpoetryandlove，andtohavewithheldhisdesolating
　　hand。Severalcenturieshavegoneby，yetthegardenstill
　　flourishesatthefootoftheTower。Itoccupieswhatwasoncethe
　　moatoftheKeep；andthoughsomepartshavebeenseparatedby
　　dividingwalls，yetothershavestilltheirarborsandshadedwalks，
　　asinthedaysofJames，andthewholeissheltered，blooming，and
　　retired。Thereisacharmaboutaspotthathasbeenprintedbythe
　　footstepsofdepartedbeauty，andconsecratedbytheinspirationsof
　　thepoet，whichisheightened，ratherthanimpaired，bythelapseof
　　ages。Itis，indeed，thegiftofpoetrytohalloweveryplaceinwhich
　　itmoves；tobreathearoundnatureanodormoreexquisitethanthe
　　perfumeoftherose，andtoshedoveritatintmoremagicalthan
　　theblushofmorning。
　　OthersmaydwellontheillustriousdeedsofJamesasawarrior
　　andalegislator；butIhavedelightedtoviewhimmerelyasthe
　　companionofhisfellow—men，thebenefactorofthehumanheart，
　　stoopingfromhishighestatetosowthesweetflowersofpoetryand
　　songinthepathsofcommonlife。Hewasthefirsttocultivatethe
　　vigorousandhardyplantofScottishgenius，whichhassincebecomeso
　　prolificofthemostwholesomeandhighly—flavoredfruit。Hecarried
　　withhimintothesternerregionsofthenorthallthefertilizing
　　artsofsouthernrefinement。Hedideverythinginhispowertowin
　　hiscountrymentothegay，theelegant，andgentlearts，which
　　softenandrefinethecharacterofapeople，andwreatheagraceround
　　theloftinessofaproudandwarlikespirit。Hewrotemanypoems，
　　which，unfortunatelyforthefulnessofhisfame，arenowlostto
　　theworld；one，whichisstillpreserved，called"Christ’sKirkofthe
　　Green，"showshowdiligentlyhehadmadehimselfacquaintedwiththe
　　rusticsportsandpastimes，whichconstitutesuchasourceofkindand
　　socialfeelingamongtheScottishpeasantry；andwithwhatsimple
　　andhappyhumorhecouldenterintotheirenjoyments。Hecontributed
　　greatlytoimprovethenationalmusic；andtracesofhistender
　　sentiment，andeleganttaste，aresaidtoexistinthosewitching
　　airs，stillpipedamongthewildmountainsandlonelyglensof
　　Scotland。Hehasthusconnectedhisimagewithwhateverismost
　　graciousandendearinginthenationalcharacter；hehasembalmed
　　hismemoryinsong，andfloatedhisnametoafteragesintherich
　　streamsofScottishmelody。Therecollectionofthesethingswas
　　kindlingatmyheartasIpacedthesilentsceneofhis
　　imprisonment。IhavevisitedVauclusewithasmuchenthusiasmasa
　　pilgrimwouldvisittheshrineatLoretto；butIhaveneverfelt
　　morepoeticaldevotionthanwhencontemplatingtheoldTowerandthe
　　littlegardenatWindsor，andmusingovertheromanticlovesofthe
　　LadyJaneandtheRoyalPoetofScotland。
　　THEEND。
　　1819—20
　　THESKETCHBOOK
　　ASUNDAYINLONDON*
　　byWashingtonIrving
　　*Partofasketchomittedinthepreviouseditions。
　　INAprecedingpaperIhavespokenofanEnglishSundayinthe
　　country，anditstranquillizingeffectuponthelandscape；butwhere
　　isitssacredinfluencemorestrikinglyapparentthaninthevery
　　heartofthatgreatBabel，London？Onthissacredday，thegigantic
　　monsterischarmedintorepose。Theintolerabledinandstruggleof
　　theweekareatanend。Theshopsareshut。Thefiresofforgesand
　　manufactoriesareextinguished；andthesun，nolongerobscuredby
　　murkycloudsofsmoke，poursdownasober，yellowradianceintothe
　　quietstreets。Thefewpedestrianswemeet，insteadofhurrying
　　forwardwithanxiouscountenances，moveleisurelyalong；theirbrows
　　aresmoothedfromthewrinklesofbusinessandcare；theyhaveput
　　ontheirSundaylooks，andSundaymanners，withtheirSunday
　　clothes，andarecleansedinmindaswellasinperson。
　　Andnowthemelodiousclangorofbellsfromchurchtowerssummons
　　theirseveralflockstothefold。Forthissuesfromhismansionthe
　　familyofthedecenttradesman，thesmallchildrenintheadvance；
　　thenthecitizenandhiscomelyspouse，followedbythegrown—up
　　daughters，withsmallmorocco—boundprayer—bookslaidinthefolds
　　oftheirpocket—handkerchiefs。Thehousemaidlooksafterthemfromthe
　　window，admiringthefineryofthefamily，andreceiving，perhaps，a
　　nodandsmilefromheryoungmistresses，atwhosetoiletshehas
　　assisted。
　　Nowrumblesalongthecarriageofsomemagnateofthecity，
　　peradventureanaldermanorasheriff；andnowthepatterofmanyfeet
　　announcesaprocessionofcharityscholars，inuniformsofantique
　　cut，andeachwithaprayer—bookunderhisarm。
　　Theringingofbellsisatanend；therumblingofthecarriage
　　hasceased；thepatteringoffeetisheardnomore；theflocksare
　　foldedinancientchurches，crampedupinby—lanesandcornersof
　　thecrowdedcity，wherethevigilantbeadlekeepswatch，likethe
　　shepherd’sdog，roundthethresholdofthesanctuary。Foratimeevery
　　thingishushed；butsoonisheardthedeep，pervadingsoundofthe
　　organ，rollingandvibratingthroughtheemptylanesandcourts；and
　　thesweetchantingofthechoirmakingthemresoundwithmelodyand
　　praise。NeverhaveIbeenmoresensibleofthesanctifyingeffectof
　　churchmusic，thanwhenIhavehearditthuspouredforth，likea
　　riverofjoy，throughtheinmostrecessesofthisgreatmetropolis，
　　elevatingit，asitwere，fromallthesordidpollutionsofthe
　　week；andbearingthepoorworld—wornsoulonatideoftriumphant
　　harmonytoheaven。
　　Themorningserviceisatanend。Thestreetsareagainalivewith
　　thecongregationsreturningtotheirhomes，butsoonagainrelapse
　　intosilence。NowcomesontheSundaydinner，which，tothecity
　　tradesman，isamealofsomeimportance。Thereismoreleisurefor
　　socialenjoymentattheboard。Membersofthefamilycannowgather
　　together，whoareseparatedbythelaboriousoccupationsofthe
　　week。Aschool—boymaybepermittedonthatdaytocometothe
　　paternalhome；anoldfriendofthefamilytakeshisaccustomedSunday
　　seatattheboard，tellsoverhiswell—knownstories，andrejoices
　　youngandoldwithhiswell—knownjokes。
　　OnSundayafternoonthecitypoursforthitslegionstobreathe
　　thefreshairandenjoythesunshineoftheparksandrural
　　environs。Satiristsmaysaywhattheypleaseabouttherural
　　enjoymentsofaLondoncitizenonSunday，buttomethereissomething
　　delightfulinbeholdingthepoorprisonerofthecrowdedanddusty
　　cityenabledthustocomeforthonceaweekandthrowhimselfuponthe
　　greenbosomofnature。Heislikeachildrestoredtothemother’s
　　breast；andtheywhofirstspreadoutthesenobleparksand
　　magnificentpleasure—groundswhichsurroundthishugemetropolis，have
　　doneatleastasmuchforitshealthandmorality，asiftheyhad
　　expendedtheamountofcostinhospitals，prisons，andpenitentiaries。
　　THEEND。
　　1819—20
　　THESKETCHBOOK
　　CHRISTMASDAY
　　byWashingtonIrving
　　Darkanddullnight，fliehenceaway，
　　Andgivethehonortothisday
　　ThatseesDecemberturn’dtoMay。********
　　Whydoesthechillingwinter’smorne
　　Smilelikeafieldbesetwithcorn？
　　Orsmellliketoameadenew—shorne，
　　Thusonthesudden？—Comeandsee
　　Thecausewhythingsthusfragrantbe。
　　HERRICK。
　　WHENIwokethenextmorning，itseemedasifalltheeventsof
　　theprecedingeveninghadbeenadream，andnothingbuttheidentity
　　oftheancientchamberconvincedmeoftheirreality。WhileIlay
　　musingonmypillow，Iheardthesoundoflittlefeetpattering
　　outsideofthedoor，andawhisperingconsultation。Presentlya
　　choirofsmallvoiceschantedforthanoldChristmascarol，theburden
　　ofwhichwas—
　　Rejoice，ourSaviorhewasborn
　　OnChristmasdayinthemorning。
　　Irosesoftly，sliptonmyclothes，openedthedoorsuddenly，and
　　beheldoneofthemostbeautifullittlefairygroupsthatapainter
　　couldimagine。Itconsistedofaboyandtwogirls，theeldestnot
　　morethansix，andlovelyasseraphs。Theyweregoingtheroundsof
　　thehouse，andsingingateverychamberdoor；butmysuddenappearance
　　frightenedthemintomutebashfulness。Theyremainedforamoment
　　playingontheirlipswiththeirfingers，andnowandthenstealing
　　ashyglancefromundertheireyebrows，until，asifbyoneimpulse，
　　theyscamperedaway，andastheyturnedanangleofthegallery，I
　　heardthemlaughingintriumphattheirescape。
　　Everythingconspiredtoproducekindandhappyfeelingsinthis
　　strongholdofold—fashionedhospitality。Thewindowofmychamber
　　lookedoutuponwhatinsummerwouldhavebeenabeautiful
　　landscape。Therewasaslopinglawn，afinestreamwindingatthefoot
　　ofit，andatrackofparkbeyond，withnobleclumpsoftrees，and
　　herdsofdeer。Atadistancewasaneathamlet，withthesmokefrom
　　thecottagechimneyshangingoverit；andachurchwithitsdarkspire
　　instrongreliefagainsttheclear，coldsky。Thehousewassurrounded
　　withevergreens，accordingtotheEnglishcustom，whichwouldhave
　　givenalmostanappearanceofsummer；butthemorningwasextremely
　　frosty；thelightvaporoftheprecedingeveninghadbeenprecipitated
　　bythecold，andcoveredallthetreesandeverybladeofgrasswith
　　itsfinecrystallizations。Theraysofabrightmorningsunhada
　　dazzlingeffectamongtheglitteringfoliage。Arobin，perchedupon
　　thetopofamountainashthathungitsclustersofredberriesjust
　　beforemywindow，wasbaskinghimselfinthesunshine，andpipinga
　　fewquerulousnotes；andapeacockwasdisplayingallthegloriesof
　　histrain，andstruttingwiththeprideandgravityofaSpanish
　　grandee，ontheterracewalkbelow。
　　Ihadscarcelydressedmyself，whenaservantappearedtoinvite
　　metofamilyprayers。Heshowedmethewaytoasmallchapelinthe
　　oldwingofthehouse，whereIfoundtheprincipalpartofthe
　　familyalreadyassembledinakindofgallery，furnishedwith
　　cushions，hassocks，andlargeprayer—books；theservantswereseated
　　onbenchesbelow。Theoldgentlemanreadprayersfromadeskin
　　frontofthegallery，andMasterSimonactedasclerk，andmadethe
　　responses；andImustdohimthejusticetosaythatheacquitted
　　himselfwithgreatgravityanddecorum。
　　TheservicewasfollowedbyaChristmascarol，whichMr。Bracebridge
　　himselfhadconstructedfromapoemofhisfavoriteauthor，Herrick；
　　andithadbeenadaptedtoanoldchurchmelodybyMasterSimon。As
　　therewereseveralgoodvoicesamongthehousehold，theeffectwas
　　extremelypleasing；butIwasparticularlygratifiedbytheexaltation
　　ofheart，andsuddensallyofgratefulfeeling，withwhichthe
　　worthysquiredeliveredonestanza；hiseyeglistening，andhis
　　voiceramblingoutofalltheboundsoftimeandtune：
　　"’Tisthouthatcrown’stmyglitteringhearth
　　Withguiltlessemirth，
　　AndgivestmeWassailebowlestodrink
　　Spicedtothebrink：
　　Lord，’tisthyplenty—droppinghand
　　Thatsoilesmyland：
　　Andgiv’stmeformybushellsowne，
　　Twicetenforone。"
　　Iafterwardsunderstoodthatearlymorningservicewasreadonevery
　　Sundayandsaints’daythroughouttheyear，eitherbyMr。
　　Bracebridgeorbysomememberofthefamily。Itwasoncealmost
　　universallythecaseattheseatsofthenobilityandgentryof
　　England，anditismuchtoberegrettedthatthecustomisfalling
　　intoneglect；forthedullestobservermustbesensibleoftheorder
　　andserenityprevalentinthosehouseholds，wheretheoccasional
　　exerciseofabeautifulformofworshipinthemorninggives，asit
　　were，thekeynotetoeverytemperfortheday，andattunesevery
　　spirittoharmony。
　　Ourbreakfastconsistedofwhatthesquiredenominatedtrueold
　　Englishfare。Heindulgedinsomebitterlamentationsovermodern
　　breakfastsofteaandtoast，whichhecensuredasamongthecauses
　　ofmoderneffeminacyandweaknerves，andthedeclineofoldEnglish
　　heartiness；andthoughheadmittedthemtohistabletosuitthe
　　palatesofhisguests，Yettherewasabravedisplayofcoldmeats，
　　wine，andale，onthesideboard。
　　AfterbreakfastIwalkedaboutthegroundswithFrankBracebridge
　　andMasterSimon，or，Mr。Simon，ashewascalledbyeverybodybutthe
　　squire。Wewereescortedbyanumberofgentlemanlikedogs，that
　　seemedloungersabouttheestablishment；fromthefriskingspaniel
　　tothesteadyoldstag—hound；thelastofwhichwasofaracethathad
　　beeninthefamilytimeoutofmind：theywereallobedienttoa
　　dog—whistlewhichhungtoMasterSimon’sbutton—hole，andinthemidst
　　oftheirgambolswouldglanceaneyeoccasionallyuponasmall
　　switchhecarriedinhishand。
　　Theoldmansionhadastillmorevenerablelookintheyellow
　　sunshinethanbypalemoonlight；andIcouldnotbutfeeltheforceof
　　thesquire’sidea，thattheformalterraces，heavilymoulded
　　balustrades，andclippedyew—trees，carriedwiththemanairof
　　proudaristocracy。Thereappearedtobeanunusualnumberof
　　peacocksabouttheplace，andIwasmakingsomeremarksuponwhatI
　　termedaflockofthem，thatwerebaskingunderasunnywall，whenI
　　wasgentlycorrectedinmyphraseologybyMasterSimon，whotoldme
　　that，accordingtothemostancientandapprovedtreatiseon
　　hunting，Imustsayamusterofpeacocks。"Inthesameway，"addedhe，
　　withaslightairofpedantry，"wesayaflightofdovesor
　　swallows，abevyofquails，aherdofdeer，ofwrens，orcranes，a
　　skulkoffoxes，orabuildingofrooks。"Hewentontoinformmethat，
　　accordingtoSirAnthonyFitzherbert，weoughttoascribetothisbird
　　"bothunderstandingandglory；for，beingpraised，hewillpresently
　　setuphistail，chieflyagainstthesun，totheintentyoumaythe
　　betterbeholdthebeautythereof。Butatthefalloftheleaf，when
　　histailfalleth，hewillmournandhidehimselfincorners，till
　　histailcomeagainasitwas。"
　　Icouldnothelpsmilingatthisdisplayofsmalleruditiononso
　　whimsicalasubject；butIfoundthatthepeacockswerebirdsof
　　someconsequenceatthehall；forFrankBracebridgeinformedmethat
　　theyweregreatfavoriteswithhisfather，whowasextremelycareful
　　tokeepupthebreed；partlybecausetheybelongedtochivalry，and
　　wereingreatrequestatthestatelybanquetsoftheoldentime；and
　　partlybecausetheyhadapompandmagnificenceaboutthem，highly
　　becominganoldfamilymansion。Nothing，hewasaccustomedtosay，had
　　anairofgreaterstateanddignitythanapeacockpercheduponan
　　antiquestonebalustrade。
　　MasterSimonhadnowtohurryoff，havinganappointmentatthe
　　parishchurchwiththevillagechoristers，whoweretoperformsome
　　musicofhisselection。Therewassomethingextremelyagreeableinthe
　　cheerfulflowofanimalspiritsofthelittleman；andIconfessIhad
　　beensomewhatsurprisedathisaptquotationsfromauthorswho
　　certainlywerenotintherangeofevery—dayreading。Imentionedthis
　　lastcircumstancetoFrankBracebridge，whotoldmewithasmile
　　thatMasterSimon’swholestockoferuditionwasconfinedtosomehalf
　　adozenoldauthors，whichthesquirehadputintohishands，and
　　whichhereadoverandover，wheneverhehadastudiousfit；ashe
　　sometimeshadonarainyday，oralongwinterevening。SirAnthony
　　Fitzherbert’sBookofHusbandry；Markham’sCountryContentments；the
　　TretyseofHunting，bySirThomasCockayne，Knight；IzaacWalton’s
　　Angler，andtwoorthreemoresuchancientworthiesofthepen，were
　　hisstandardauthorities；and，likeallmenwhoknowbutafew
　　books，helookeduptothemwithakindofidolatry，andquotedthem
　　onalloccasions。Astohissongs，theywerechieflypickedoutofold
　　booksinthesquire’slibrary，andadaptedtotunesthatwere
　　popularamongthechoicespiritsofthelastcentury。Hispractical
　　applicationofscrapsofliterature，however，hadcausedhimtobe
　　lookeduponasaprodigyofbookknowledgebyallthegrooms，
　　huntsmen，andsmallsportsmenoftheneighborhood。
　　Whileweweretalkingweheardthedistanttollingofthevillage
　　bell，andIwastoldthatthesquirewasalittleparticularinhaving
　　hishouseholdatchurchonaChristmasmorning；consideringitaday
　　ofpouringoutofthanksandrejoicing；for，asoldTusserobserved，
　　"AtChristmasbemerry，andthankfulwithal，
　　Andfeastthypoorneighbors，thegreatwiththesmall。"
　　"Ifyouaredisposedtogotochurch，"saidFrankBracebridge，"I
　　canpromiseyouaspecimenofmycousinSimon’smusical
　　achievements。Asthechurchisdestituteofanorgan，hehasformed
　　abandfromthevillageamateurs，andestablishedamusicalclubfor
　　theirimprovement；hehasalsosortedachoir，ashesortedmy
　　father’spackofhounds，accordingtothedirectionsofJervaise
　　Markham，inhisCountryContentments；forthebasshehassoughtout
　　allthe’deep，solemnmouths，’andforthetenorthe’loud—ringing
　　mouths，’amongthecountrybumpkins；andfor’sweetmouths，’hehas
　　culledwithcurioustasteamongtheprettiestlassesinthe
　　neighborhood；thoughtheselast，heaffirms，arethemostdifficultto
　　keepintune；yourprettyfemalesingerbeingexceedinglywayward
　　andcapricious，andveryliabletoaccident。"
　　Asthemorning，thoughfrosty，wasremarkablyfineandclear，the
　　mostofthefamilywalkedtothechurch，whichwasaveryoldbuilding
　　ofgraystone，andstoodnearavillage，abouthalfamilefromthe
　　parkgate。Adjoiningitwasalowsnugparsonage，whichseemed
　　coevalwiththechurch。Thefrontofitwasperfectlymattedwitha
　　yew—tree，thathadbeentrainedagainstitswalls，throughthedense
　　foliageofwhichapertureshadbeenformedtoadmitlightintothe
　　smallantiquelattices。Aswepassedthisshelterednest，theparson
　　issuedforthandprecededus。
　　Ihadexpectedtoseeasleekwell—conditionedpastor，suchasis
　　oftenfoundinasnuglivinginthevicinityofarichpatron’stable，
　　butIwasdisappointed。Theparsonwasalittle，meagre，black—looking
　　man，withagrizzledwigthatwastoowide，andstoodofffromeach
　　ear；sothathisheadseemedtohaveshrunkawaywithinit，likea
　　driedfilbertinitsshell。Heworearustycoat，withgreatskirts，
　　andpocketsthatwouldhaveheldthechurchBibleandprayerbook：and
　　hissmalllegsseemedstillsmaller，frombeingplantedinlarge
　　shoes，decoratedwithenormousbuckles。
　　IwasinformedbyFrankBracebridge，thattheparsonhadbeenachum
　　ofhisfather’satOxford，andhadreceivedthislivingshortly
　　afterthelatterhadcometohisestate。Hewasacomplete
　　black—letterhunter，andwouldscarcelyreadaworkprintedinthe
　　Romancharacter。TheeditionsofCaxtonandWynkindeWordewerehis
　　delight；andhewasindefatigableinhisresearchesaftersuchold
　　Englishwritersashavefallenintooblivionfromtheirworthlessness。
　　Indeference，perhaps，tothenotionsofMr。Bracebridge，hehad
　　madediligentinvestigationsintothefestiveritesandholiday
　　customsofformertimes；andhadbeenaszealousintheinquiryas
　　ifhehadbeenabooncompanion；butitwasmerelywiththat
　　ploddingspiritwithwhichmenofadusttemperamentfollowupany
　　trackofstudy，merelybecauseitisdenominatedlearning；indifferent
　　toitsintrinsicnature，whetheritbetheillustrationofthewisdom，
　　oroftheribaldryandobscenityofantiquity。Hehadporedoverthese
　　oldvolumessointensely，thattheyseemedtohavebeenreflectedin
　　hiscountenance；which，ifthefacebeindeedanindexofthemind，
　　mightbecomparedtoatitle—pageofblackletter。
　　Onreachingthechurchporch，wefoundtheparsonrebukingthe
　　gray—headedsextonforhavingusedmistletoeamongthegreenswith
　　whichthechurchwasdecorated。Itwas，heobserved，anunholy
　　plant，profanedbyhavingbeenusedbytheDruidsintheirmystic
　　ceremonies；andthoughitmightbeinnocentlyemployedinthe
　　festiveornamentingofhallsandkitchens，yetithadbeendeemedby
　　theFathersoftheChurchasunhallowed，andtotallyunfitfor
　　sacredpurposes。Sotenaciouswasheonthispoint，thatthepoor
　　sextonwasobligedtostripdownagreatpartofthehumbletrophies
　　ofhistaste，beforetheparsonwouldconsenttoenteruponthe
　　serviceoftheday。
　　Theinteriorofthechurchwasvenerablebutsimple；onthewalls
　　wereseveralmuralmonumentsoftheBracebridges，andjustbeside
　　thealtarwasatombofancientworkmanship，onwhichlaytheeffigy
　　ofawarriorinarmor，withhislegscrossed，asignofhishaving
　　beenacrusader。Iwastolditwasoneofthefamilywhohad
　　signalizedhimselfintheHolyLand，andthesamewhosepicturehung
　　overthefireplaceinthehall。
　　Duringservice，MasterSimonstoodupinthepew，andrepeatedthe
　　responsesveryaudibly；evincingthatkindofceremoniousdevotion
　　punctuallyobservedbyagentlemanoftheoldschool，andamanofold
　　familyconnections。Iobservedtoothatheturnedovertheleavesofa
　　folioprayer—bookwithsomethingofaflourish；possiblytoshowoff
　　anenormousseal—ringwhichenrichedoneofhisfingers，andwhichhad
　　thelookofafamilyrelic。Buthewasevidentlymostsolicitousabout
　　themusicalpartoftheservice，keepinghiseyefixedintentlyonthe
　　choir，andbeatingtimewithmuchgesticulationandemphasis。
　　Theorchestrawasinasmallgallery，andpresentedamostwhimsical
　　groupingofheads，piledoneabovetheother，amongwhichI
　　particularlynoticedthatofthevillagetailor，apalefellowwith
　　aretreatingforeheadandchin，whoplayedontheclarionet，and
　　seemedtohaveblownhisfacetoapoint；andtherewasanother，a
　　shortpursyman，stoopingandlaboringatabass—viol，soastoshow
　　nothingbutthetopofaroundbaldhead，liketheeggofan
　　ostrich。Thereweretwoorthreeprettyfacesamongthefemale
　　singers，towhichthekeenairofafrostymorninghadgivena
　　brightrosytint；butthegentlemenchoristershadevidentlybeen
　　chosen，likeoldCremonafiddles，morefortonethanlooks；andas
　　severalhadtosingfromthesamebook，therewereclusteringsof
　　oddphysiognomies，notunlikethosegroupsofcherubswesometimessee
　　oncountrytombstones。
　　Theusualservicesofthechoirweremanagedtolerablywell，the
　　vocalpartsgenerallylaggingalittlebehindtheinstrumental，and
　　someloiteringfiddlernowandthenmakingupforlosttimeby
　　travellingoverapassagewithprodigiouscelerity，andclearing
　　morebarsthanthekeenestfox—huntertobeinatthedeath。Butthe
　　greattrialwasananthemthathadbeenpreparedandarrangedby
　　MasterSimon，andonwhichhehadfoundedgreatexpectation。Unluckily
　　therewasablunderattheveryoutset；themusiciansbecameflurried；
　　MasterSimonwasinafever；everythingwentonlamelyand
　　irregularlyuntiltheycametoachorusbeginning"Nowletussing
　　withoneaccord，"whichseemedtobeasignalforpartingcompany：all
　　becamediscordandconfusion；eachshiftedforhimself，andgottothe
　　endaswell，or，rather，assoonashecould，exceptingoneold
　　choristerinapairofhornspectacles，bestridingandpinchingalong
　　sonorousnose；whohappenedtostandalittleapart，and，being
　　wrappedupinhisownmelody，keptonaquaveringcourse，wriggling
　　hishead，oglinghisbook，andwindingallupbyanasalsoloofat
　　leastthreebars’duration。