In sickness and in mischief to visit
The farthest in his parish much and lit,
Upon his feet, and in his hand a staff,
This noble ensample to his sheep he gaf,
That first he wrought and afterwards he taught."

CHAUCER.

Sermons are not so lengthy in our church as they were three hundred
years ago. Rudder mentions that a parson of the name of Winnington used
to preach here for two hours at a time, regularly turning the
hour-glass; for in those days hour-glasses were placed near the pulpit,
and the clergy used to vie with each other as to who could preach the
longest. I do not know if Mr. Barrow was ever surpassed in this respect.
History relates that he succeeded in emptying his church of the whole
congregation, including the Lord Mayor and Aldermen of London--one man
only (an apprentice) remaining to the bitter end. Misguided laymen used
to amuse themselves in the same way. Fozbrooke mentions that one Will
Hulcote, a zealous lay preacher after the Reformation, used to mount the
pulpit in a velvet bonnet, a damask gown, and a gold chain. What an ass
he must have looked! This reminds me that at the age of twenty-four I
accepted the office of churchwarden of a certain country parish. I do
not recommend any of my readers to become churchwardens. You become a
sort of acting aide-de-camp to the parson, liable to be called out on
duty at a moment's notice. No; a young man might with some advantage to
others and credit to himself take upon himself the office of Parish
Councillor, Poor Law Guardian, Inspector of Lunatic Asylums, High
Sheriff, or even Public Hangman; but save, oh, save us from being
churchwardens! To be obliged to attend those terrible institutions
called "vestry meetings," and to receive each year an examination paper