A rich advowson, highly prized, For private sale was advertised; And many a parson made a bid; The REVEREND SIMON MAGUS did. He sought the agent's: "Agent, I Have come prepared at once to buy (If your demand is not too big) The Cure of Otium-cum-Digge." "Ah!" said the agent, "_there's_ a berth-- The snuggest vicarage on earth; No sort of duty (so I hear), And fifteen hundred pounds a year! "If on the price we should agree, The living soon will vacant be: The good incumbent's ninety-five, And cannot very long survive. "See--here's his photograph--you see, He's in his dotage." "Ah, dear me! Poor soul!" said Simon. "His decease Would be a merciful release!" The agent laughed--the agent blinked-- The agent blew his nose and winked And poked the parson's ribs in play-- It was that agent's vulgar way. The REVEREND SIMON frowned: "I grieve This light demeanour to perceive; It's scarcely _comme il faut_, I think: Now--pray oblige me--do not wink. "Don't dig my waistcoat into holes-- Your mission is to sell the souls Of human sheep and human kids To that divine who highest bids. "Do well in this, and on your head Unnumbered honours will be shed." The agent said, "Well, truth to tell, I _have_ been doing pretty well." "You should," said SIMON, "at your age; But now about the parsonage. How many rooms does it contain? Show me the photograph again. "A poor apostle's humble house Must not be too luxurious; No stately halls with oaken floor-- It should be decent and no more. "No billiard-rooms--no stately trees-- No croquet-grounds or pineries." "Ah!" sighed the agent, "very true: This property won't do for you. "All these about the house you'll find"-- "Well," said the parson, "never mind; I'll manage to submit to these Luxurious superfluities. "A clergyman who does not shirk The various calls of Christian work, Will have no leisure to employ These 'common forms' of worldly joy. "To preach three times on Sabbath days-- To wean the lost from wicked ways-- The sick to soothe--the sane to wed-- The poor to feed with meat and bread; "These are the various wholesome ways In which I'll spend my nights and days: My zeal will have no time to cool At croquet, archery, or pool." The agent said, "From what I hear, This living will not suit, I fear-- There are no poor, no sick at all; For services there is no call." [Illustration] The reverend gent looked grave. "Dear me! Then there is _no_ 'society'?-- I mean, of course, no sinners there Whose souls will be my special care?" The cunning agent shook his head, "No, none--except"--(the agent said)-- "The DUKE OF A., the EARL OF B., The MARQUIS C., and VISCOUNT D.