And the preacher preached from the text, "Come out of her." Hadn't we come?
And we thought of the Shepherd in Pickwick—and fancied a flavour of rum
Balmily borne on the wind of his words—and my man said, "Well,
Let's get out of this, my dear—for his text has a brimstone smell."
VII.
So we went, O God, out of chapel—and gazed, ah God, at the sea.
And I said nothing to him. And he said nothing to me.
VIII.
And there, you see, was an end of it all. It was obvious, in fact,
That, whether or not you believe in the doctrine taught in a tract,