The Choir School of St. Bede's

THE NEW SOLO-BOY.

It was a lovely morning, about eleven o’clock, and the boys of the cathedral choir of St. Bede’s were playing in the cloister of the grand old church. There was a square plot of grass in the centre, where the boys used to amuse themselves during the intervals of school-work; when it was wet they would walk round the covered cloister.

One boy, of about eleven years, was standing by himself, looking shyly on without taking any part in the games of the others. He was leaning against a stone pillar, when one of the bigger boys came up to him.

“You’re the new probationer solo-boy, aren’t you?” he demanded.

“Yes,” replied Alfred Davidson, for that was his name.

“Where do you come from?”

“From Darlton.”

“What’s your father?”

“He’s an engineer on a ship.”

“On board of a man-of-war?”

“No; on one of the big ships that go to Australia,” replied Alfred.

“I suppose you think no small cheese of yourself now you’ve got a place in the choir, don’t you?” said the other with a sneer.

“I am very pleased to get into this choir, as I am fond of music, and I hope I shall be an organist some day,” replied Alfred.

“Organist!” laughed the other. “You’ll never be fit for anything except to blow the organ. I suppose you would consider that assistant-organist?”

“Certainly! some people aren’t good enough even for that,” replied Alfred, moving behind the stone pillar.

“Oh, indeed!” said King, “aren’t they?”

He aimed a backhanded slap at Alfred as he spoke, but the latter bobbed his head, and King barked his knuckles.

“That’s your little game, is it?” he exclaimed, and seizing Alfred he shook him and threw him on to the grass, nearly causing another boy, who was stepping backwards, to roll over him. Alfred got up at once and brushed his clothes, and while he was doing so another boy came up and spoke to him.

“What’s up?” he exclaimed.

“I am, now,” replied Alfred, smiling.

“So I see,” said Walter Parker, laughing; “but you were down a moment ago, weren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Has Herbert King been bullying you because you’ve got the place he wanted his brother to have?”

“I don’t know the name of the boy who pushed me down,” replied Alfred, “but he did not have it all his own way. He went to hit me, and as I ducked my head he knocked his knuckles against the pillar instead.”

“I am glad of it,” said Walter. “It serves him right; he is far too fond of bullying, especially new boys. If I catch him at it I will punch his head again, as I did last week. You tell me if he hits you, and I will square accounts with him. What is your name?”

“Alfred Davidson.”

“Very well, Davidson, I hope we shall be friends. My name is Walter Parker, and I live in Cross Street.”

“So do I,” said Alfred. “I am staying with Mrs. Dawson.”

“I live next door, so we can go home together.”

These few words made Alfred feel quite happy, and at the invitation of his new friend he joined in the game of prisoner’s base. Walter Parker was thirteen years of age, a stout, well-built boy, although not very tall.

Alfred Davidson, although so young, had a voice of wonderful power and sweetness, and having been taught music by his mother for some time, he had at eight entered the choir of the parish church of Darlton, where he had continued his training for some three years. He had just succeeded in obtaining not only a place in the choir by competition, to the exclusion of Herbert King’s younger brother, but even the appointment of a probationer soloist, which was very unusual for so young a boy.

The deputy choir-master, who was also the schoolmaster, called the boys in to work. The room was under the cathedral library, and led out of the cloister.

“Alfred Davidson!” called Mr. Harmer.

“Davidson,” said Walter Parker to him, “‘uncle’ is calling you.”

“Is he your uncle?” inquired Alfred, as he moved out of his seat.

“No,” replied Walter; “but we always call him uncle behind his back.”

“Come here,” said Mr. Harmer; “I want to examine you, to see in which division I can place you.”

Alfred answered the questions put to him sufficiently well to be placed in the first division.

“I hope, Davidson, you will work well, so that I may be able to keep you in this division. If not, of course I shall put you down into the second. You can go back to your seat again.”

Walter Parker assisted Mr. Harmer by taking the youngest and the most backward boys. Herbert King was his equal as far as knowledge went, but the master had chosen Walter in preference to King, as he was more patient and careful in the work. These two boys were the principal soloists, but as King’s voice was beginning to show signs of breaking, it was necessary to have another boy in training, ready to take his place later on. King had hoped that his brother would obtain a place in the choir, but the organist, Dr. Phillips, and Mr. Young, the precentor (one of the clergy who assist in directing the musical services), had both chosen Alfred to fill the vacancy. This was one reason why King felt anything but friendly towards the newcomer.