THE ECCLESIASTICAL AUCTION MART.
"Dear Punch,
Going the other day into an auction-room in a large commercial town, with the view of purchasing a small fancy business, I found that having already disposed of it, and of a cheesemonger's good-will and stock, the auctioneer was endeavouring to sell a church, on whose merits he was expatiating much in the following terms:—
"Come, Gentlemen, pray give attention
To the Lot I'm now going to sell;
For it don't want a poet's invention
Its manifold merits to tell.
If a gift, or of praying or preaching,
In any one present has shone,
He may further exemplify each in
The church, now put up, of St. John.
It is not some old weather-worn building,
Clad with ivy, and mouldering and grey,
But as fresh as paint, varnish, and gilding
Could make it, 'twas made 't other day;
And if any, who hear me, are pinning
Their faith some one order upon,
I can tell them they'll find a beginning
Of all orders and styles, at St. John.
"It is held of the Town Corporation
For a term, at a peppercorn rent,
And will surely reward speculation
To the tune of some fifty per cent.
The fixtures are mats, stools, and hassocks,
And (as second-hand garments to don
Is the fashion with curates) the cassocks
Of the late worthy priest of St. John.
"If the sittings (not counting the free seats
Which are placed in the draught near the door),
Be computed, I think there must be seats
For nine hundred pew-renters or more;
Then the district quite swarms with young ladies,
And the tenant who's recently gone,
From the slippers they worked him, quite paid his
Clerk, sexton, and choir of St. John.
By the bishop its licence was granted;
But the owners no bid will reject—
As the cash is immediately wanted—
From any persuasion or sect.
There, the Jumper may practise gymnastics;
There the Ranter's glib tongue may run on;
Turks or Hindoos, or Buddhists, or Aztecs,
May use, if they pay for, St. John.
Ha! a Thousand! a Rapper then offers;
Fifteen hundred! the Mormons exclaim.
Come, Gentlemen, open your coffers,
For your biddings are terribly tame.
Two thousand! Not half enough! Yet it
Must go to the Rappers; Going! Gone!
The key's with the sexton, Sir; get it,
And yours is the church of St. John."