The Henson Journals

[180]

Wednesday, March 27th, 1929.

A glorious day, fitter for June than for March. I motored to Newcastle with Lionel, and went to Thos Cook & Son. Here I paid for the tickets for our tour in France (£42:12:6,), and paid a cheque (£150) to be converted into their notes for my travelling expenditure. We went to an Emporium where I purchased some requisites viz: two suit–cases, a soft hat, and an umbrella. Then we returned to Auckland.

Angel Thelwell sent me £5 for the Castle. I wrote at once to her in acknowledgment. Lionel and I motored to Hunwick, where I confirmed 108 persons in an asphyxiating atmosphere. The mean little church was crowded, but there were no windows anywhere open, and the heating system, (though the weather was almost unseasonably warm,) was working at full–blast. I never heard a worse organ, & the choir mostly composed of surpliced females was worthy of it. I think it would almost ̭be^ a safe inference from my observations, that the existence of a female choir is a sure indication of the parson's incompetence. He can't get boys.

[181]

The plump convivial parson often bears

The magisterial sword in vain, and lays

His reverence & his worship both to rest

On the same cushion of habitual sloth.

Perhaps timidity restrains his arm;

When he should strike he trembles, & sets free,

Himself enslaved by terror of the band,

The audacious convict, whom he dares not bind.

Perhaps, though by profession ghostly pure,

He too may have his vice, & sometimes prove

Less dainty than becomes his grave outside

In lucrative concerns. Examine well

His milk–white hand: the palm is hardly clean

But here & there an ugly smutch appears.

Foh! 'twas a bribe that left it: he has touch'd

Corruption! Whoso seeks an audit here

Propitious, pays his tribute, game or fish,

Wildfowl or venison, & his errand speeds.

(Cowper. "The Winter Evening".)

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