the Shorter Catechism. The parishioners of this worthy man were,
in consequence, devoutly orthodox, and had, one and all, a keen nose for
bad doctrine. They did not like to be fobbed off with a sermon of the
spineless order; they liked bones, blood, and fire--not a mosaic of
cheery quotations from Tennyson about the larger hope and about worms
not being cloven in vain. They had also a great liking for the
patriarchs, especially Noah. By ill luck, I spoke one Sunday on the
patriarchs, and handled them pretty roughly. I felt that sacred
enthusiasm which every man feels in denouncing the sins of others. I
gave the Captain of the Ark a special lick of tar. This sermon caused a
mighty commotion in the district. I might as well have asserted that the
paraphrases were inspired, or that Sankey's hymns were canonical. I
could see that the elders began to look coldly upon me. In barn and byre
little groups discussed my preaching, and there was much wagging of the
head and shooting out of the lip. A deputation came out of a
potato-field to me one day as I was walking along the road, and the
leader, an old theological crofter, said bluntly: 'Your sermons are not
pleasing us, if you please, sir.' 'Is the doctrine bad?' I asked. 'Not
exactly that, but the folk say it's very unseemly.' 'What special sermon
do they object to?' 'They think you're not sound on that holy man,
Noah.' 'Do they go the length of saying Noah was perfect?' 'They don't
just go that length; but, while admitting Noah was human, they desire'
(here the old man raised his head, shut his eyes, and shouted) 'to hear
no more from a young inexperienced lad like you, a single word about the
patriarch's shortcomings. The man was a patriarch, and therefore a
saint. Talk about his virtues as much as you like, but don't fash about
his trespasses, there's a good boy, I speak as your friend.'"

FLADIBISTER.

When my friend had delivered himself of this story, he pointed with his
pipe to a little confused collection of low, thatched cottages which we
were rapidly approaching on the left, and, oblivious of Noah, went thus
musing on: "You are now in the charmed domain of Fladibisteria, of which
the core or citadel, as it were, is this village of Fladibister. This is
no settlement of Norsemen: no, this is a Celtic nook where second sight
and such witchcraft flourished not so many years ago. Did not the
minister once rebuke them for their spells and mystic whims by aptly
applying