Bristol and Clifton

“Yes, I was only sidesman here when last

You came to Evening Communion.

But now I have retired from the bank

I have more leisure time for church finance.

We moved into a somewhat larger house

Than when you knew us in Manilla Road.

This is the window to my lady wife.

You cannot see it now, but in the day

The greens and golds are truly wonderful.”

“How very sad. I do not mean about

The window, but I mean about the death

Of Mrs. Battlecock. When did she die?”

“Two years ago when we had just moved in

To Pembroke Road. I rather fear the stairs

And basement kitchen were too much for her—

Not that, of course, she did the servants’ work—

But supervising servants all the day

Meant quite a lot of climbing up and down.”

“How very sad. Poor Mrs. Battlecock.”

“‘The glory that men do lives after them,’1

And so I gave this window in her name.

It’s executed by a Bristol firm;

The lady artist who designed it, made

The figure of the lady on the left

Something like Mrs. Battlecock.”

“How nice.”

                          “Yes, was it not? We had

A stained glass window on the stairs at home,

In Pembroke Road. But not so good as this.

This window is the glory of the church

At least I think so—and the unstained oak

Looks very chaste beneath it. When I gave

The oak, that brass inscription on your right

Commemorates the fact, the Dorcas Club

Made these blue kneelers, though we do not kneel:

We leave that to the Roman Catholics.”

“How very nice, indeed. How very nice.”

“Seeing I have some knowledge of finance

Our kind Parochial Church Council made

Me People’s Warden, and I’m glad to say

That our collections are still keeping up.

The chancel has been flood-lit, and the stove

Which used to heat the church was obsolete.

So now we’ve had some radiators fixed

Along the walls and eastward of the aisles;

This last I thought of lest at any time

A Ritualist should be inducted here

And want to put up altars. He would find

The radiators inconvenient.

Our only ritual here is with the Plate;

I think we make it dignified enough.

I take it up myself, and afterwards,

Count the Collection on the vestry safe.”

“Forgive me, aren’t we talking rather loud?

I think I see a woman praying there.”

“Praying? The service is all over now

And here’s the verger waiting to turn out

The lights and lock the church up. She cannot

Be Loyal Church of England. Well, good-bye.

Time flies. I must be going. Come again.

There are some pleasant people living here.

I know the Inskips very well indeed.”