I did not know what God had in mind then. For a long time even the strong pipe tobacco (with which McClintock supplied him) possessed a coconut flavour. Bulging out more in the middle than at the two extremities, it resembled an enormous cask set on its end, —a sort of Heidelberg tun on a large scale,—and this resemblance was increased by the small circular aperture—it hardly deserved to be called a door—pierced, like the bung-hole of a barrell, through the side of the structure, at some distance from the ground, and approached by a flight of wooden steps. It has been a marvellous day—and I am going to England. All the village was assembled in the churchyard. No hair to fall awry, no powder to displace, no ruffles to crush; men are lucky. “Yes. Gin Lane's the nearest road to the churchyard.
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