Dr. Powers was by no means the only senior whom Mr. Smith subdued with savage speech. The long-suffering minister ventured one day to suggest to the organist the wish that he would not send the people out of church to the sound of music which seemed to belong to the dance, or the parade, or some festive scene, when the organist assured him that he was himself under orders, that he did not dare to hint to the leader that his soul was his own, much less his fingers. After due consideration, and also after the minister had preached a sermon on the betrayal, and heard a young lady exclaim, as she fluttered down the aisle a few minutes after its solemn closing, "Oh, isn't that music perfectly exquisite! I can hardly keep my feet from whirling off with me in a waltz," he determined to brave the fierce Handel Beethoven himself; and little did he gain by the operation. The great artist informed him that he did not presume to dictate to him what texts he should select, nor, indeed, how long he should make his discourses; however much he might dislike their length, he was in the habit of leaving that matter entirely to the minister's judgment, and he desired and expected to be treated in the same way as regarded the music. If the minister would see to it that his part of the service was properly managed, be sure that he, Handel Beethoven Smith, was entirely capable of attending to his part. Neither did the constant resignations from the choir apparently disturb the leader in the least. Indeed, he sometimes, with an approach to almost complaisance, remarked that they were well rid of such an one, and the choir improved with each departure. He had no very high opinion of chorus choirs, anyway; you could never do really classic work with a mixed chorus.