We fell in, two by two, according to tradition, fifty of us at least, and were played into Lodge by what I thought was an harmonium, but which I discovered to be an organ of repute. It took time to settle us down, for ten or twelve were cripples and had to be helped into long or easy chairs. I sat between a one-footed R.A.M.C. Corporal and a Captain of Territorials, who, he told me, had “had a brawl” with a bomb, which had bent him in two directions. “But that’s first-class Bach the organist is giving us now,” he said delightedly. “I’d like to know him. _I_ used to be a piano-thumper of sorts.” “I’ll introduce you after Lodge,” said one of the regular Brethren behind us--a plump, torpedo-bearded man, who turned out to be a doctor. “After all, there’s nobody to touch Bach, is there?” Those two plunged at once into musical talk, which to outsiders is as fascinating as trigonometry. Now a Lodge of Instruction is mainly a parade-ground for Ritual. It cannot initiate or confer degrees, but is limited to rehearsals and lectures. Worshipful Brother Burges, resplendent in Solomon’s Chair (I found out later where that, too, had been picked up), briefly told the Visiting Brethren how welcome they were and always would be, and asked them to vote what ceremony should be rendered for their instruction. When the decision was announced he wanted to know whether any Visiting Brothers would take the duties of Lodge Officers. They protested bashfully that they were too rusty. “The very reason why,” said Brother Burges, while the organ Bached softly. My musical Captain wriggled in his chair. “One moment, Worshipful Sir.” The plump Doctor rose. “We have here a musician for whom place and opportunity are needed. Only,” he went on colloquially, “those organ-loft steps are a bit steep.” “How much,” said Brother Burges with the solemnity of an initiation, “does our Brother weigh?” “Very little over eight stone,” said the Brother. “Weighed this morning, Worshipful Sir.” The Past District Grand Officer, who was also a Battery-Sergeant-Major, waddled across, lifted the slight weight in his arms and bore it to the loft, where, the regular organist pumping, it played joyously as a soul caught up to Heaven by surprise. When the visitors had been coaxed to supply the necessary officers, a ceremony was rehearsed. Brother Burges forbade the regular members to prompt. The visitors had to work entirely by themselves, but, on the Battery-Sergeant-Major taking a hand, he was ruled out as of too exalted rank. They floundered badly after that support was withdrawn. The one-footed R.A.M.C. on my right chuckled. “D’you like it?” said the Doctor to him.