Snowdrops from a Curate’s Garden

AFTER THE FALL A Page from the Book of the Recording Angel. Adam had gone down to the Euphrates for a morning’s sport with the Icthyosaurus. The day before he had no luck at all with a rather big fly (pterodactyl-wing and angel-hackle) and meant to spin with the artificial dodo for a bit before giving up the water as hopelessly over-fished. He had better have stayed home, though, and kept a sharp look-out with the gaff for the serpent. This is what happened in his absence. Eve had done her day’s work, and was sprawl- ing in the sun with her tailor-made fur-lined dress within easy reach (fig-leaves, in the daytime, had entirely gone out, and were now only worn for eve- ning dress), and meditating on the curious events of the past evening. “ Silly thing that of Adam’s,” she soliloquized, “ just when I was feeling nice, it turned sick and collapsed, and took ten minutes to get well again. Why, I could have gone on all night without those silly intervals ! And the old fool says it tires him and he can’t dig today because his back aches, so he’s gone fishing. Fishing ! I’ll fish him when he comes home. I believe he’s gone to see that lioness he was so fond of in the old days. She was rude enough to both of us yesterday though-so are all the beasts since we ate that apple Lord God made all the fuss about. The serpent’s as much a gentleman as ever, of course. He was at the same public school as Lord God, he says. I’m sure he’s got better manners, though ! The old [86]