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Updated: May 14, 2025
If, while I am talking, you should hear any one moving in the garden, just tap quietly on the table. Tell me, have you, before to-day, ever heard of the Corporation for the Perpetuation of Happiness?" "Never," replied Bleak, kindling a magnifico of remarkably rich, mild flavor. "That is as I expected," rejoined Quimbleton. But the time is come when we shall have to appear in the open.
Again Quimbleton had to call for silence. "I will recite to you," he said, "a ditty that I have composed myself. It is called A Chanty of Departed Spirits."
As he watched the indicator oscillate rapidly on the dial, and finally subside uncertainly at zero, he thanked heaven that they had indulged in no psychic grogs that day. The Bishop's black beard foamed downward upon the desk like a gloomy cataract. Quimbleton for a moment was almost abashed, and regretted that he had not thought to whitewash his own dingy thicket.
"Will you put it down in black and white, please?" He secured the Bishop's signature to a document giving instructions for the necessary legislation to be passed. Folding the precious paper in his pocket, Quimbleton faced the black-browed Bishop. He held Theodolinda by the hand. "I am sorry," he said, "that I should have forgotten to bring a ring with me.
The unmixed bliss and high privilege of the vetoing function! I envy you, from my heart, in still having something to forbid." The Bishop stirred uneasily in his chair. "What is it?" he said. Quimbleton watched him with a steady and slightly annoying smile. "I like to dwell in imagination upon your surprise when you realize what you have overlooked. It seems so simple!
But at the height of the campaign she was found in a pharmacy drinking a maple nut foam. After this her cause declined rapidly, and even her most ardent partisans admitted that she would never be more than an Intermittent Souse. The sagacious Quimbleton outmaneuvered them at every turn. Moderate drinkers rallied round Bleak.
"In the early days of my trances I was much haunted by the spirit of a certain cocktail blended, I believe, of champagne and angostura which insisted that it would be inconsolable until it could get in contact with Quimbleton and reassure him as to the certainty of its existence beyond mortal bars.
You know, if we crowd these phantasms of the grape upon her too fast, she might pass over altogether, and stay behind the bar for good. We are deeply indebted to Miss Chuff for her adorable willingness to act as a kind of bunghole into the spirit world, but we don't want her to slip through the hole and evaporate." "Safety thirst!" cried Quimbleton, raising his loved one to his lips.
A bee sagged along heavily in an irregular zig-zag, and a caterpillar, more agile and purposeful than any caterpillar they had ever seen, staggered swiftly across a carpet of moss. The same thought struck them simultaneously, and at that moment Theodolinda noticed a small white signboard affixed to a tree-trunk in the grove. "Bless me!" cried Quimbleton. "What a stroke of luck!
"There is one thing you have forgotten to prohibit," said Quimbleton solemnly. "I can hardly conceive how it escaped you. The one thing that harasses human beings over the whole civilized world. The one thing which, if you were to abolish it, would make your name, foul as that now is, blessed in the ears of men. Oh, the joy of still having something to prohibit!
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