There was once a philanthropist who dressed with shameful shabbiness and carried pearls in his pocket. This was to pass under the arch, along the narrow ledge of the starling, and, if possible, attain the eastern platform, where, protected by the bridge, he would suffer less from the excessive violence of the gale. He dared not go on. I suppose my creed is, ‘I believe rather indistinctly in God the Father Almighty, substratum of the evolutionary process, and, in a vein of vague sentimentality that doesn’t give a datum for anything at all, in Jesus Christ, His Son. I’m the sort of dog, if you turn it out of the room it lies down on the mat at the door.
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