CHAPTER XXIII.
ST. PAUL’S AND THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON.
Wall, after a seen of almost inexpressible wretchedness we reached St. Paul’s Cathedral.
Josiah a-gittin’ it into his head that it wuz fashionable to read up about places of interest, had flooded his brain almost beyend its strength to bear about the Cathedral. And that information oozed and drizzled out of the instersises of his brain all the time we wuz there. As for me, when we entered the great central western door I wuz almost lost and by the side of myself as I ketched sight of the vast interior.
As I looked down the immense, soft gray yeller depths of distance, I felt almost as though I wuz lookin’ down some of Nater’s isles, with shadders of blue mist a-lurkin’ in the corners.
After my senses come back gradual I could pay some attention to the rich, dark carvin’, the crimson cushions, the big organ towerin’ up, etc., etc. I felt lifted up considerable by the grandeur of the spectacle.
But Josiah wanted to show off.
Sez he, a-wavin’ his hand down the long aisle—
“There is the place for knaves! See, Samantha, the beautiful arrangement—they’re set apart from good folks. It sez the ‘knave runs down that way.’ He is made to run so’s to separate him still more from Christians that go slow.”
“Where did you git that information, Josiah Allen?” sez I.