A _Bishop_ and a _Curate_.
A Certain _Country Curate_ had a Dog that he had a Mighty Kindness for;
the Poor Cur Sickens and Dyes, and his Master in Honour of his Memory
gave him Christian Burial. This came to the _Bishop_’s Ear, who presently
sent for the _Curate_, Rattled him to some Tune, with Menaces to the
Highest Degree for bringing such a Scandal upon the Function. My Lord,
(says the _Curate_,) if your Lordship had but known the understanding of
this Dog, both Living and Dying, and especially how Charitable an End he
made, You would not have Grudged him a Place in the Church-Yard among
the rest of his _Fellow-Parishioners_. How so, says the _Bishop_? Why,
my Lord, says the _Curate_, when he found he was Drawing home, he sent
for a _Notarius_, and made his Testament. _There’s my Poor Lord Bishop in
Want_, says he, _and it is my Will to leave him a Hundred Crowns for a
Legacy_. He charg’d me to see it perform’d, and I have it here in a Purse
for your Lordship ready Counted. The Bishop upon the Receipt of the Mony,
gave the Priest Absolution, and found it a very good Will, and a very
Canonical Burial.
The MORAL.
_Mony Corrupts both Church and State._