Snowdrops from a Curate’s Garden

fallen fortunes with a poem on the culinary uses of placentas, which fell still-born from the press, gave up the unequal contest and had himself buggered to death in the principal Harman of Constantin- ople. The Pope signalized his approbation of my ser- vices by appointing me to a fat bishopric, with the run of all the choir-boys in the district. But I had my work cut out in other ways, for Leila was still with me, and you know from your own experience that she has but to grip once your father-confessor with her amazing man-trap, and it is not so easy to withdraw. It fell on this wise. The English were still dis- embarking in interminable file upon the sunny shores of the Low Countries when my nine hun- dredth creamy emission for that period roared like the breaking of billows into that living fountain. We were wont to celebrate this emission, as its oc- currence was wont to mark the near cessation of her tomato-jam season. Never for all my efforts had I managed to do the 1000. I fancy that 900 is somewhere near my physiological limit for one bout, as it were. On the best time I ever did, the figures were : 0-100, 83 min. 101-200, 78 min. 201-300, 57 min. 301-400, 59 min. 401-500, 68 min. (Time lost on this heat by having to piss.) 501-600, 54 min. 601-700, 60 min. 701-800, 79 min. 801-900, 93 min. 901-1000, 266 min. 1001-1100, 793 min. [74]