Snowdrops from a Curate’s Garden

my mouth of the more copious portions of dung which he had so generously besmeared me, you stopped in a most interesting part of your story. My son, you have conquered ! In me the pas- sion of vanity has ever been stronger than that of even the purest and profoundest affections. Let us continue ! He elegantly disengaged himself from my back, leaving me to withdraw a weary and sodden stern- post from the accommodating gentleman’s love- passage of the affectionate goat (whom I will wager my readers have forgotten, for I very nearly did). The archbishop cleared his throat and began thus. “ The first real scene of passion that I ever saw was in this fashion. I had been left alone in the house one day ; and, weary of confinement, I determined to stroll into the street. Not far had I gone before my attention was attracted by a small galvanized iron mission room. To my surprise, the door was ajar, and from the pulpit I heard the well known tones of a Salvation Army preacher crying ‘ Whoso- ever will may come ! ’ ” In the centre of the hall I saw that the forms had been removed and replaced my mat- tresses ; upon these lay my many friends in the village. I noticed Alec and Ada, Bertie and Bobine, Charles, Clara, Dick, Dora, Edward, Ethel, Frank, Fanny, George, Gertie, Harry, Herminia, Isaac, Imogen, John, Jenny, Karl, Katherine, Louis, Laura, Martin, Maud, Norman, Nellie, Octavius, Olga, Pe- ter, Polly, Quintus, Queenie, Robert, Rosie, Sam- uel, Sybil, Thomas, Thais, Ulric, Ursula, Victor, Vivien, Walter, Wilhelmina, Xenocrates, Xantippe, Yeo, Yvonne, Zeno, and Zelma. Let us lerricompoop ! Said Wilhelmina, in a voice thick with lust and marred by Martin’s pilli- cock, which was tickling her tonsils. The position was now as follows : [24]