But, praise it as he might, the flageolet is the worst instrument possible to constitute an orchestra; especially when played as Joseph played it. It gave out a series of squeaks and counter-squeaks—punctuated and accentuated by his wheezes rather than by the requirements of the tune. Indeed, a boy learning the bugle, or a Punch and Judy panpipe, would have discoursed more decorous music. To me the panpipe and the flageolet seem nearly akin; only the flageolet is the more powerful instrument of the two, and Punch is more exacting than we were in the choice of an executant. Once, as a special favour, I was invited by Joseph to attend a choir practice. It was before his hand or, I should say, his breath had lost its cunning; and it took place on this wise. An hour before service (which on this occasion was actually realised) Joseph took his stand in the reading desk, flageolet in hand, while a group of apple-cheeked cottagers—fishermen mainly, and plough-boys—grouped themselves in my father’s pew below. In one point at any rate Joseph had anticipated the ritual of later days; he repudiated all women from his choir. “’Taint no place for ’em,” he’d say; “I wonder what ’postle Paul ’d think, if he could ha’ heard they two women at S. Matthew’s screechin’ out ‘O ’twas a joyful sound to hear’—and none of us, let alone the choir, privileged to put in a joyful sound along wi ’em. If women baint allowed to preach in Church, stands to reason that they baint allowed to sing.” “Now boys, turn to ‘Aurelia,’ and go for to remember that we sing the whole on’t right through this time. Last time as ever we did it some on you took to skipping and one sang one verse and t’other the next, whereby I had to blow myself nigh faint to hide your discordance. And mind ye too, sing ’en slow, not as if you wanted to get shot on’t.” All went well at the first rehearsal, for Joseph played the air distinctly and without disturbing flourishes—only with an intolerable drawl, mindful in all probability of “passon’s” injunctions; of which more anon. “Well sung,” says he; “you be a good choir when you be so minded; and well instructed, too, though I says it as didn’t ought to. Now then, we’ll see what ye can do when I puts in the flourishes.”