THE PHONOGRAPH AS OFFICIATING CLERGYMAN.

Gisborne Times, Volume XXVII, Issue 2622, 2 October 1909, Page 2 (Supplement)

THE PHONOGRAPH AS OFFICIATING CLERGYMAN.

(By “Rouseabout.”)

_ It was when I was out back—no two ways about it, I was out back — we I were thirty miles from tho nearest public house. I was tho only hand on the farm, and our nearest neighbors were a lot of station hands, two miles off. After that the stations wore at distances of eight, ten, and twelve miles apart. The boss was a Churchman, and stood on his dignity; so that my chief companions were the live stock on the place. The religion of my boss consisted in littering my lonely hut with a kind of tract consisting of stories which all ended up with one or two conversions and a wedding. It may have been part of his religion to use thoroughness in the spirited harangues to which he occasionally treated his dogs, for I have never heard a clergyman who had a greater command of language and rhetoric, or greater power of invective. I can only compare it to the holy cursings of some old-time hermit who was qualifying for .canonization as a saint, As for me, 1 Studied tho dispositions of the CO\vs ; and learned to understand the moods and tenses of the horses, and came daily under the peaceful spell of the slumbering hills and rushing creeks, the titling of the crickets, and the fascination of the silent landscapo bathed in moonlight. Now, my boss’ religion had a way of occasionally breaking out in a fresh place?, so I was not surprised to find that he had been moving in the matter of trying to start church services in a neighbor’s woolshed. Of course the difficulty was to persuade any clergyman to venture out into our wild solitudes. One of the Brethren of the Cloth did once try a thirty-mile ride over our roads, in search of sport, and I understand he is still convalescent. Of course, most of the folks thought that tho matter would fizzle out, but they had miscalculated the greatness of my boss’ piind. In his extremity he seems to have remembered tin; existence of a brother in America, and his sublime intellect at once saw a way out of the difficulty. America, ho reflected, is a country of great speakers, it is also the homo of the phonograph. So what did this great man do but write to his • brothler a'nd. ask him to patronise the bestr church of Tils'city 'armed with two phonographs, and, keeping them wellfed with cylinders, secure a complete reproduction of the service. I suppose the inauguration of the scheme dated from the time when I gingerly lifted two phonographs from the mud-coated bullock-dray, and deposited them on the verandah of the I was called in to unpack and work them, and soon had, in addition —to my titles of cow-spanker, groom, gardener, and general rouseabout the added honor and responsibility of chief engineer. But imagine with what concern I received the information that these profane contrivances, which I had often heard producing such rollicking tunes and wanton songs, were to supply the spiritual food at a service of Divine Worship,—and under my guidance! Of course, the eventful dayarrived—it always does —even when a man is going to be hanged. The records from America arrived, and were unpacked, and I was kept up almost all Saturday night trying to sort the cylinders, so as to prevent having the Benediction in the middle of the sermon, and “Praise God from Whom All Blessings Flow” just as the weary ora- ' tion drew to ,a close. Of course, I was enthusiastic, —how could I. be otherwise? The glorious hymns and noble chants produced by the grand organ and well-trained choir rolled out from the mouth of that funnel till it rendered us

speechless with awe and reverence. At 2.30 on Sunday morning our little company of three listened to as beautiful a choral service as any of us had ever been privileged to hear; while the impassioned tones of the preacher kept ringing in my ears above the strident purr of the milk in the bucket as the flush of a- beautiful dawn crept stealthily over the hills. All argued well for as beautiful, sweet, and holy a Sabbath as had been spent by the strenuous back-blockers of our district for many a long year, and I began to have quite an admiration for my hard-swearing evangelical boss. At 9.30 I yoked up the buggy and pair, saw the boss and his family take their seats in stately pride, saddled and mounted my own fidgetty little chestnut, and started out at a gay canter across the gleaming .paddocks. When the road entered a patch of bush I slowed down to a walk, lit my old briar pipe, and, while puffing clouds of smoke, listening to the melodious piping of the tui, watching the stray beams of sunlight playing upon

the dancing leaves and lighting up the huge frons of occasional tree-ferns, .or gazing into the sombre depths of the foliage, I preforce marvelled at the beauties of Creation and the wondrous ' " mind of the' Creator. "When a man has keen, healthy vitality, a mellow pipe 1 xjtween his teeth, and such scenery as that all round him ho experiences a contentment that is unknown to the flighty nerves of the town-dweller. From time to time- I was joined by other horsemen, hearty fellows \ swinging loosely in their saddles, V who greeted me with a grin and “Day, " Whiskers, parson to-day.?” The entire B population cf the hills seemed to be turning out. and i. was a man of no . , small importance that day. ; - W r hen we arrived at the wcolslied -it looked like a cattle sale. Folks were threading their way' between horses and buggies; women were sliding down

from their, horses and mounting to tho little staging before tbe door, with a baby on one arm and their long riding skirts awkwardly hitched up on the other; men with various makes of trousers- —from immaculate blue serge down to blue dungarees, and also rid-ing-breeches —all with long spurs at heel and most of them with wide, flapping felt hats, were standing around smoking and joking, or consigning dogs to a destiny which thenscant knowledge of theology prevented them from understanding. I hurried in and set up my two machines on the wool-table which had been straightened up and draped for the occasion. With a dignified calm, befitting such an occasion, I deftly put things in place, with the box of assorted cylinders where it could he- easily reached, and then faced the most interestng congregation that I have ever seen. Folks were sitting on couches, chairs, home-made forms, and packing-cases, and many of the men sat on their heels, avoiding their spurs with a skill that denoted much practise, and looking litre frogs ready for a spring. Children sat on the floor and gazed at me and my charges with wide eyes of awe and wonder. Then I put on my first record, and, while the preliminary, sound of submerged scraping proceeded, a silence brooded over the gathering like that which holds the landscape just before the commencement of a b.ack thunderstorm. The record was a beauty ; the opening hymn was “All Hail the Power of Jesu’s Name,” and the well-blended voices, as they rendered that old-time paean of worshipful praise, carried us with them into a transport of devotion, and before it was through several of those harum scarum men had their heads thrown back and were rolling it out from the depths of Their capacious lungs in rich healthy tones that were good to hear. This had taken one or two records, but there was no break in the melody as I was able to feed the two machines alternately. But the next record gave me some trouble —it would not go on to the machine. It was a mistake for the boss to allow his family the free run of his house on the Sunday morning, since the dear little souls had shown such fondness for “Yankee Doodle,” and various pidgeon English love songs.

The congregation might have chafed at the delay, but just then about twenty dogs gathered under the floor of the building and, commencing with a friendly greeting and remarks about the weather, quickly passed on into a political discussion. They were not devoid of eloquence, -and seemed to have a custom of empliasing their remarks by rapping their heads on the floor above, while the occasional howling of some discomforted puppy bore striking testimony to their evangelical powers of appealing to emotions. How long the over-flow meeting would have continued I cannot guess, but just as I succeeded in adjusting things to my satisfaction, a short man, whose features consisted of a nose and eyes peeping out of a tangle of hair, slipped out, armed with a stock whip and a well-assorted vocabulary, and restored that silence which our sweet Sabbath had temporarily lost. The people composed themselves in time to hear the sepulchral voice in the depths of the funnel groan out the words “Let- Us Pray.” It rather detracted from the reverential tone of the prayer to hear me winding up the machinery, but I didn’t discover that I had broken the record till the pin encountered a crack or two just after the words “as we forgive them that trespass against us,” giving vent to a horrible Satanic chuckle. The congregation behaved remarkably well, and When I got through the next hymn—a feast of sublime music—and was well into the first lesson, I felt hopeful that our service would end creditably. But the purpose of my careful arrangement was destined to be frustrated by a love for investigation on the part of my boss’ darling children. I had to put on a fresh record after the apostle’s words of exhortation: “Be not drunk with wine, wherein is excess.” Deftly placing the cylinder in its place, and starting the machine I had the next words ready to follow on in unbroken sequence, and before I could shut the thing off the people’s feelings of devotion were outraged by hearing the well-known tones of Harry Lauder announcing: “I’m fu’ the iioo.” There was a pause while I snatched off the offending record, and the people curled up and gave out a series of spasmodic snorts and gurgles like a miniature collection of mud-gey-sers. I found the rest of the lesson and the opening of the sermon, but those people could not listen, it sounded like a champagne supper. I might as well have resigned my commission but with the bull-dog tenacity of the Englishman I stuck to my guns. In fact I began to feel some satisfaction when the good folks sobered down and began to listen with rapt attention to the burning words of the preacher. The words rang cute, nobly into the building. “Brethern,” said the voice, “the world is growing cold. The hearts of the people are growing cold. The angels look down from Heaven in sorrow upon our heartless cruelty and avarice, and a people devoid of affection. The countless numbers of tbe long buried dead who have lived, laboied, and loved, are turning in their graves, as they hear the sinister rumble of tlio chariot-wheels of greed and-Mammon-worship. This degenerate age lias forgotten liow to love. Is there one in this vast audience, who can honestly say in his heart that ho really and truly loves a single soul?” There was a dramatic pause; followed, in strident bass tones by the words “I love a lassie,” and a healthy laugh in Harry Lauder’s characteristic style. This time, the crowd broke out into a roar of laughter; and 1 in the midst of the

confusion, I heard: my boss fervently remark “Well, I’m .” I think that he came to a hasty conclusion ; but I am afraid that he will be, unless he can learn to treat religious observances with a greater show of reverence. It is strange what a'famous character I became in that neighborhood after that. Whenever I met a party of horsemen their invariable' form of salutation was to pinch their noses with finger qnd thumb and. drawl out “Here ftndeth the first lesson.”