Muggins was in the
seventh heaven of delight.
"You belong to Tossorontio, Mr. Perrowne?" asked Wilkinson, by way of
starting the conversation.
"Ow, now! I said I had trained Muggins from a pup there, but that ownly
extends owver a few years. Durham is my university, which you may have
heard of."
"I am familiar by name with the university and the cathedral, although
the juvenile geography books say that Durham is famous for its mustard."
"Ow, now, really, they down't, do they? Ow dear, mustard! We Durham men
can serve it out pretty hot, you know. You belong to the Church, of
course, Mr. Wilkinson?"
"I was brought up in the Church of England, and educated in what are
called Church principles; I am fond of the Prayer Book and the Service,
but, to my way of thinking, the Church is far more extensive than our
mere Anglican communion."
"Ow, yes, there are Christian people, who, I howpe, will get to heaven
some way through the uncovenanted mercies, in spite of their horrid
schism from the True Body. There is Errol, now, whom, out of mere
courtesy, I call reverend, but he is no more reverend than Muggins.
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