It was, indeed, a usual custom for the clergyman publicly to rebuke offenders, as when it happened that a young man, sitting in a prominent position in the church, pulled out his handkerchief and brought with it a bundle of playing cards, which flew in every direction. He had, so it turned out, been up late the previous night, and had stuffed the cards with which he had been gambling into his pocket, where they had remained forgotten. The people were amazed and horrified, but the clergyman simply looked at the offender and remarked with quiet, yet most withering sarcasm, "Sir, that prayer book of yours has been badly bound!" But some times the rebuke was deftly thrust back upon the preacher. "You're sleepy, John," said the clergyman, pausing in the middle of a drowsy discourse, and looking hard at the man he thus addressed. "Take some snuff, John." "Put the snuff in the sermon," ejaculated John; and the faces of the audience showed that the retort was fully appreciated. In fact, such was the freedom tolerated, that this incident in Eskdale might be taken as an example. Someone walked noisily up the aisle during divine service. "Whaa's tat?" asked the clergyman in a tone quite loud enough to rebuke the offender. "It's aad Sharp o' Laa Birker," responded the clerk. "Afooat or o' horseback?" was the significant query. "Nay," was the answer, "nobbet afooat, wi' cokert shun" (calkered shoes). Frequently the clerk would interrupt the clergyman, and the interruption would not enhance the devotional character of the service. In a rural parish church a new pitch-pipe was provided, but the clerk had not tested it before entering his desk on the Sunday, and when he should have given the key-note the instrument could not be adjusted. The clerk tugged at it, thrust it in, gave it several thumps, made sundry grimaces, but the pipe was obdurate. "My friends," announced the impatient parson, "the pitch-pipe will not work, so let us pray." "Pray!" snorted the aggrieved official, "pray! no, no, we'll pray none till I put this thing aright." And members of the congregation would even stand up in their pews to contradict the parson or clerk when making the announcement. "There will be a service here as usual on Thursday evening next," announced the clerk one Sunday morning. "No, there won't," declared the churchwarden as he rose from his seat. "We be going to carry hay all day Thursday." "But the service will be held as usual," asserted the clerk. But the churchwarden was not to be thwarted. "Then there'll be nobody here," said he. "D'ye think we're coming to church and leave the hay in the fields? No, no, p'r'aps it'll rain Friday."