ing the following morning, no material object elucidating the phenomena was by any means discoverable, both window and door having through the night been closely shut and locked."
That this was none other than a moth that escaped notice by day by clinging to a curtain with folded wings is obvious enough.
The reader is by this time doubtless so tired of the inflated style of the Prebendary, that he will be grateful to have the rest of the story told in plain English.
The Rev. Jonas had made up his mind to have Fontelautus buried in the garden of his home, and arrangements were made that his five sisters were to be the bearers. But this was at once met by the positive refusal of Maria, who declared that she would be no party to the burial of her brother, who, she was assured, was still alive. After the funeral she remained in an agony of distress, and this idea continued to possess her, and so firmly impressed her mind, that at length, to appease her and satisfy her that Fontelautus was really dead, he was dug up again.
Such is the story that the Prebendary thought would be annihilation to materialism.
He was the author of a good many books. I give the titles of a few.
Church Reform, by a Church Radical, and Other Tracts. Exeter, 1834-5.
Alliance of Church and State, Neither Sinful nor Unscriptural. London, 1834.
Key to the Regalia, with Anecdotes of the Late King. London, 1820.
Architectura Sacra. Exeter, 1819.
Cat o' Nine Tails. Exeter, 1823.
The Landscape Gardener. Chelsea, 1835.
The Rev. Jonas Dennis himself died at Polsloe Park
