When
I preach that sermon I spoke of the other day, I shall have to lay
down some principles not fully recognized in some of your text-
books.
I should have to begin with one most formidable preliminary. You
saw an article the other day in one of the journals, perhaps, in
which some old Doctor or other said quietly that patients were very
apt to be fools and cowards. But a great many of the clergyman's
patients are not only fools and cowards, but also liars.
[Immense sensation at the table.--Sudden retirement of the angular
female in oxydated bombazine. Movement of adhesion--as they say in
the Chamber of Deputies--on the part of the young fellow they call
John. Falling of the old-gentleman-opposite's lower jaw--
(gravitation is beginning to get the better of him.) Our landlady
to Benjamin Franklin, briskly,--Go to school right off, there's a
good boy! Schoolmistress curious,--takes a quick glance at
divinity-student. Divinity-student slightly flushed draws his
shoulders back a little, as if a big falsehood--or truth--had hit
him in the forehead. Myself calm.]
- I should not make such a speech as that, you know, without having
pretty substantial indorsers to fall back upon, in case my credit
should be disputed. Will you run up stairs, Benjamin Franklin,
(for B. F. had NOT gone right off, of course,) and bring down a
small volume from the left upper corner of the right-hand shelves?
[Look at the precious little black, ribbed backed, clean-typed,
vellum-papered 32mo.
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