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Ewing, Juliana Horatia Gatty, 1841-1885

"A Flat Iron for a Farthing or Some Passages in the Life of an only Son"

" Much puzzled, I nevertheless yielded to her, being quite
accustomed to trust all her proceedings.
I was not enlightened by the appearance of the trees, which were very
much like others as to their ladder-like peculiarities. They were old
Portugal laurels which had been cut in a good deal at various times.
They looked very easy to climb, and did not seem to boast many
"stories." I did not see anything about them adapted for Sunday
amusement in particular.
But Polly soon explained herself.
"Look here, Regie," said she; "this tree has got three beautiful
branches, one for the clerk, one for the reading-desk, and one for the
pulpit. I'm going to get into the top one and preach you a sermon; and
you're to sit in that other tree--it makes a capital pew. I'm sure
it's quite a Sunday game," added Polly, mounting to the pulpit with
her accustomed energy.
I seated myself in the other tree; and Polly, after consuming some
time in "settling herself," appeared to be ready; but she still
hesitated, and finally burst out laughing.
"I beg your pardon," she added, rubbing her hands over her laughing
mouth, and composing herself. "Now I'm going to begin." But she still
giggled, which led me to say--
"Never mind the text, as you're laughing.


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