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November
26
,
Sunday
.
--
The
curate
preached
a
very
good
sermon
today
--
very
good
indeed
.
His
appearance
is
never
so
impressive
as
our
dear
old
vicar
's
,
but
I
am
bound
to
say
his
sermons
are
much
more
impressive
.
A
rather
annoying
incident
occurred
,
of
which
I
must
make
mention
.
Mrs.
Fernlosse
,
who
is
quite
a
grand
lady
,
living
in
one
of
those
large
houses
in
the
Camden
Road
,
stopped
to
speak
to
me
after
church
,
when
we
were
all
coming
out
.
I
must
say
I
felt
flattered
,
for
she
is
thought
a
good
deal
of
.
I
suppose
she
knew
me
through
seeing
me
so
often
take
round
the
plate
,
especially
as
she
always
occupies
the
corner
seat
of
the
pew
.
She
is
a
very
influential
lady
,
and
May
have
had
something
of
the
utmost
importance
to
say
,
but
unfortunately
,
as
she
commenced
to
speak
a
strong
gust
of
wind
came
and
blew
my
hat
off
into
the
middle
of
the
road
.
I
had
to
run
after
it
,
and
had
the
greatest
difficulty
in
recovering
it
.
When
I
had
succeeded
in
doing
so
,
I
found
Mrs.
Fernlosse
had
walked
on
with
some
swell
friends
,
and
I
felt
I
could
not
well
approach
her
now
,
especially
as
my
hat
was
smothered
with
mud
.
I
can
not
say
how
disappointed
I
felt
.
In
the
evening
(
Sunday
evening
of
all
others
)
I
found
an
impertinent
note
from
Mr.
Burwin
--
Fosselton
,
which
ran
as
follows
:
"
DEAR
MR.
POOTER
--
Although
your
junior
by
perhaps
some
twenty
or
thirty
years
--
which
is
sufficient
reason
that
you
ought
to
have
a
longer
record
of
the
things
and
ways
in
this
miniature
of
a
planet
--
I
feel
it
is
just
within
the
bounds
of
possibility
that
the
wheels
of
your
life
do
n't
travel
so
quickly
round
as
those
of
the
humble
writer
of
these
lines
.
The
dandy
horse
of
past
days
has
been
known
to
overtake
the
slow
coach
.
"
Do
I
make
myself
understood
?
"
Very
well
,
then
!
Permit
me
,
Mr.
Pooter
,
to
advise
you
to
accept
the
verb
.
sap
.
Acknowledge
your
defeat
,
and
take
your
whipping
gracefully
;
for
remember
you
threw
down
the
glove
,
and
I
can
not
claim
to
be
either
mentally
or
physically
a
coward
!
"
Revenons
à
nos
moutons
.
"
Our
lives
run
in
different
grooves
.
I
live
for
MY
ART
--
THE
STAGE
.
Your
life
is
devoted
to
commercial
pursuits
--
'
A
life
among
Ledgers
.
'
My
books
are
of
different
metal
.
Your
life
in
the
City
is
honourable
,
I
admit
.
But
how
different
!
Can
not
even
you
see
the
ocean
between
us
?
A
channel
that
prevents
the
meeting
of
our
brains
in
harmonious
accord
.
Ah
!
But
chaçun
à
son
goût
.
"
I
have
registered
a
vow
to
mount
the
steps
of
fame
.
I
May
crawl
,
I
May
slip
,
I
May
even
falter
(
we
are
all
weak
)
,
but
reach
the
top
rung
of
the
ladder
I
will
!!!
When
there
,
my
voice
shall
be
heard
,
for
I
will
shout
to
the
multitudes
below
:
'
Vici
!
'
For
the
present
I
am
only
an
amateur
,
and
my
work
is
unknown
,
forsooth
,
save
to
a
party
of
friends
,
with
here
and
there
an
enemy
.
