Very early in my articles I took the whole of the Cathedral services on week-days, but encountered one rather awkward experience while playing my first Sunday service. I need hardly say that at this date my anthem-repertory was not very large; I had, however, practised Elvey's "Unto Thee have I cried," which contained a well-known alto solo. Now the alto soloist seemed to turn rather restive at being "accompanied by a boy," as he somewhat disparagingly said, and at the last moment declared he could not sing the solo. However, the Precentor told him that he would have to sing it, so the service commenced. We got through the first chorus, and then came the solo. I played the introductory symphony, and put down the chord for the entry of the soloist, but there was no response ! The alto absolutely refused to sing, on the plea that he could not. I suppose I ought to have brought the movement to a close and gone on to the next chorus, but I was on my mettle and impulsively decided to play the part as an instrumental interlude, being very much encouraged by a gentleman who was a constant attendant in the organ-loft, and who happened to be present. Instinctively divining my intention, he was delighted with the episode, saying, over and over again, " Go it, youngster !" emphasising his remarks by vigorously polishing his glass-eye on a silk handkerchief. It was a diversion of his when excited to extract his artificial eye and give it a high degree of polish in this manner. I proceeded with the solo, and added to it what later years have convinced me was a piece of impudence. The soloist was wont to close this number with a "shake," which is very unusual in Cathedral music, so I thought I would reproduce it, and accordingly finished up with a long shake that nearly vibrated my friend's glass-eye out of his hand ! There were some heated moments after the service, in which my father, the Precentor, the alto, and the Dean and Canon took part, but nothing was said to me, and the thing passed over. << less