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"Yes, here you are again," replied an old lady, dressed in black, and wearing a widow's cap. "Have you got 'em all to-night?" "Yes, six all tidy men. Can you write, Mr. Paper Stainer?" I could write, and did, setting forth, in a book which lay on a table in a room labelled "Office," my name, age, occupation, and the town whence I had last come. Three of the other guests followed my example.
But every man is the child of his age, however much he may hate it; and our popular religion has long determined that jollity is wicked. As far as I can make out modern Protestantism believes that Heaven is something like Evensong in an English cathedral, the service by Stainer and the Dean preaching.
Compare Mozart's Magic Flute, Beethoven's Ninth Symphony, Wagner's Ring, all of them reachings-forward to the new Vitalist art, with the dreary pseudo-sacred oratorios and cantatas which were produced for no better reason than that Handel had formerly made splendid thunder in that way, and with the stale confectionery, mostly too would-be pious to be even cheerfully toothsome, of Spohr and Mendelssohn, Stainer and Parry, which spread indigestion at our musical festivals until I publicly told Parry the bludgeoning truth about his Job and woke him to conviction of sin.
M'Quirter, we need hardly say, was a Scotsman a big, broad-shouldered Sawney formidable in 'slacks, as he called his trousers, and terrific in kilts; while Grimes was a native of Swillingford, an ex-schoolmaster and parish clerk, and now an auctioneer, a hatter, a dyer and bleacher, a paper-hanger, to which the wits said when he set up his paper, he added the trade of 'stainer.
Stainer of Elting & Stainer, that dreadful creature Klawber, a very horrid man named Amos Flack and dear, grim, pig-headed Mr. Tappan old Remsen Tappan of all men! "He practically kicked out Mr. Flack and the creature Klawber, who had been trying to frighten Scott and me and even our lawyers. "And think, Duane!
They recognise the fact that a beautiful vestment uplifts the soul far more than a dozen bad chants by Stainer, or Barnby, or any other unmusical Christian. The average Anglican chant is one of the most unimaginative, unpoetical things in the world. It always reminds me of the cart-horse parade on Whit Monday. A brown Gregorian is so much more devotional." "I beg your pardon," said Mr.
She studied harmony and composition with Stainer and Prout, and after this excellent training spent much time in creative work. For a long time she let her songs remain in manuscript, out of diffidence as to their value. Finally Mme. Helen Trust, the singer, came upon them, and obtained permission to bring out the "Message to Phyllis."
Just before settling down with colours, essences, solvents and brushes, he gives directions to his man James to "finish up the crack or fracture in that old 'Stainer' lying on the shelf there behind." When it is taken down from its place of repose, James looks at it for a moment and then observes, "Rather an awkward job, this, sir!
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