On Sunday Ernest went to church as a matter of course, and noted
that the ever receding tide of Evangelicalism had ebbed many a stage
lower, even during the few years of his absence. His father used to
walk to the church through the Rectory garden, and across a small
intervening field. He had been used to walk in a tall hat, his
master's gown, and wearing a pair of Geneva bands. Ernest noticed that
the bands were worn no longer, and lo! greater marvel still,
Theobald did not preach in his master's gown, but in a surplice. The
whole character of the service was changed; you could not say it was
high even now, for high-church Theobald could never under any
circumstances become, but the old easy-going slovenliness, if I may
say so, was gone for ever. The orchestral accompaniments to the
hymns had disappeared while my hero was yet a boy, but there had
been no chanting for some years after the harmonium had been
introduced. While Ernest was at Cambridge, Charlotte and Christina had
prevailed on Theobald to allow the canticles to be sung; and sung they
were to old-fashioned double chants by Lord Mornington and Dr.
Dupuis and others. Theobald did not like it, but he did it, or allowed
it to be done.
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