was given with a splendid crescendo of hate, worthy of the best Prussian traditions, and “destroy-e̍d” came with an effective rallentando.) The Reverend Peter Tarrant, rumbling in a profound bass the final “destroy-e̍d,” was so lifelike an imitation of a real clergyman leading a real village choir that those of the audience who had been slightly shocked by the whole performance became suddenly amused, and those who had not been shocked at all, which was a large majority, were reduced to the final stages of hysterical approval. The “turn” was a huge success. A roar of laughter and clapping and questioning followed the solemn ending. The Choir were urged to “do it again.” The two ladies, flushed and almost overcome by the applause, a circumstance quite new in the history of the Choir, begged to be excused; but Stephen once more constrained them. This time, closely following the best contemporary models on the variety stage, he urged the audience to assist, and produced from some mysterious source a number of copies of the words, neatly typed and pointed. And then, indeed, a wondrous thing was heard. For all that mixed but mainly respectable company rose up, and, opening timidly, rendered with an ever-increasing confidence and volume that profane and ridiculous hymn.