In his mouth was a pipe, on the table a jar of bird's-eye; item, a tumbler of weak brandy and water to moisten his lips with occasionally. It was weak. Mr. Mules never took a drop more than was good for him.
Before him were arranged in a circle his materials for composition. On his extreme left was what he termed his treacle-pot. That was a volume of unctuous piety. Then came his dish of flummery. That was a volume of ornate discourses by a crack ladies' preacher. Next his spice-box. That was a little store of anecdotes, illustrations, and pungent sayings. Pearson on the Creed, Bishop Andrews, or any work of solid divinity was not to be found either on his table or on his shelves. A Commentary was outspread, and a Concordance.
The Reverend Desiderius Mules sipped his brandy and water, took a long whiff of his pipe, and then wrote his text. Then he turned to his Commentary and extracted from it junks of moralization upon his text and on other texts which his Concordance told him had more or less to do with his head text. Then he peppered his paper well over with quotations, those in six lines preferred to those in three.
"Now," said the manufacturer of the sermon, "I must have a little treacle. I suppose those bumpkins will like it, but not much, I hate it myself. It is ridiculous. And I can dish up a trifle of flummery in here and there conveniently, and—let me see. I'll work up to a story near the tail somehow. But what heading shall I give my discourse? 'Pon my word I don't know what its subject is—we'll call it General Piety. That will do admirably. Yes, General Piety. Come in! Who's there?"
A servant entered and said that there were Mr. Menaida and the lady that was married that morning, at the door, wanting to speak with him. Should she show them into the study?
Mr. Mules looked at his brandy and water, then at his array of material for composition, and then at his neckerchief on the floor, and said: "No, into the drawing-room." The maid was to light the candles. He would put on his collar and be with them shortly.
So the sermon had to be laid aside.
Presently Mr. Desiderius Mules entered his drawing-room, where Judith, Uncle Zachie, and Jamie were awaiting him.
