Several of the following sketches have appeared already in the _Cambridge
Review_ and the _Cantab_. Perhaps the friends who welcomed them then may
welcome them now, on their reappearance in another and more permanent
form.
The story of “Our Rector” has been received in episcopal quarters with
polite incredulity. It may be that episcopal supervision was less
far-reaching in those days than now. At any rate, the things I have
narrated, and things stranger still, _did_ occur in our village, and in
all essential details, including the postprandial cigar, the story of
“Our Rector” is a literal “study from life.”
I would forget, if I could, that the “Cruel, Crawling Foam” is also a
record of fact.