The meeting was bliss; but the parting was woe;
  For the moment will come when such comers must go: 
  So she kissed him, and whispered—­poor innocent thing!—­
  “The next time you come, love, pray come with a ring.”

THE HAPPY DEAN
[Sidenote:  Dean Hole]

My dear Hall,—­I don’t like the writing of this letter.  I feel as I felt in childhood when they were measuring out the castor-oil in a spoon; or when, in boyhood, it was suggested “that kind Mr. Crackjaw should just look at my teeth.”

But the gulp and the “scrawnsh” must come.

My Master, the Archbishop, wishes me to speak at the Annual Meeting of the Church Defence Society in London, on the 9th of July, and as this is his first invitation to duty since I became his Chaplain, I cannot plead pleasure as an excuse.

Regarding the Fete des Roses at Larchwood, as the most joyful holiday of my year, from my first entrance into that pleasant home until you chaperon me to the Omnibus at the gate of the Show-ground, I need not enlarge on my disappointment.  The less said the better.

  When Dido found AEneas did not come,
  She mourned in silence, and was Di do dum.

Roses are improving here, but they will be very late.  May you add to the victories which your zeal and care have so well deserved.  Shall you be at Sheffield?  If so, you might return with me and have a quiet day’s talk and ramble.  With kindest regards and most obnoxious regrets, I remain yours most sincerely,

* * * * *

When the Church Conference was held at Newcastle, Hole told a story of a young curate who was preaching in a strange church from which the rector was away.  He preached a very short sermon, and in the vestry afterwards the churchwarden remarked upon its shortness, and the curate told him that a pup at his lodgings got into his room and ate half his sermon, whereupon the churchwarden said:  “I should be much obliged if you could get our rector one of the breed.”  Reading this story, Mr. Boultbee wrote to ask Hole if he could say what happened to the dog after eating the sermon, and the reply was: 

Dear Sir,—­You will be pleased to hear that when the dog had inwardly digested the sermon which he had torn, he turned over a new leaf.  He had been sullen and morose; he became “a very jolly dog.”  He had been selfish and exclusive in his manger; he generously gave it up to an aged poodle.  He had been noisy and vulgar; he became a quiet, gentlemanly dog; he never growled again; and when he was bitten he always requested the cur who had torn his flesh to be so good, as a particular favour, to bite him again.  He has established a Reformatory in the Isle of Dogs for perverse puppies, and an Infirmary for Mangy Mastiffs in Houndsditch.  He has won twenty-six medals from the Humane Society for rescuing children who have fallen into the canal.  He spends six days of the week in conducting his brothers and sisters, who have lost their ways, to the Dog’s Home, and it is a most touching sight to see him leading the blind to church from morning to night on Sundays.