Archdeacon was seen at the lych-gate of a country church in company
with a churchwarden farmer, the Vicar being unable to attend. The
contrast was well delineated--the Archdeacon tall, thin, and ascetic,
in a long black coat and archidiaconal hat; and the farmer of the John
Bull type, in ample breeches and gaiters. The churchyard presented a
magnificent crop of exuberant wheat:

_Archdeacon_. I don't like this at all; I shall really have to speak
to the Vicar about it.

_Churchwarden (thinking of the rotation of crops)_. Just what I told
un, sir--just what I told 'un. "You keeps on a-wheating of it and
a-wheating of it," I says; "why don't you tater it?" says I.

At Badsey objections were soon heard to the innovation of the
surpliced choir and improved music in the restored church; one old
villager, living close by, expressed himself as follows concerning the
entry of the Vicar and choir, in procession, from the new vestry:

"They come in with them boys all dressed up like a lot of
little parsons, and the parson behind 'em just like the old
Pope hisself. But there ain't no call for me to go to church
now, for I can set at home and hear 'em a baarlin' [noise
like a calf] and a harmenin [amening] in me own house."

On a similar occasion, in another parish where more elaborate music
had been introduced, an old coachman, given to much devotional musical
energy, told me as a sore grievance: "You know, sir, I'd used to like
singin' a bit myself, but now, as soon as I've worked myself up to a
tidy old pitch, all of a sudden _they_ leaves off, and I be left a