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Show Ji Few ' Little 3 nK s o s s o s The curate prided himself on his oratorical powers, lie was describing the downward path of the sinner, and used the metaphor of a ship drifting anil going to pieces on the rocks. A sailor In the audience was deeply In terested. "The waves dash over her," bellowed the curate. "1 ler sails are split ! Her yards are gone! Her masts are shivered! shiv-ered! Her helm Is useless! She Is driving ashore. There seems no hope. Can anything be done to save her?" The sailor rose in his seat, his eyes wide with excitement. "Let go the anchor, ye lubber," he shouted. |