"Don't Monkey With
The Buzz Saw!" He Carried His Rollmops In His Pocket And Frequently,
In Art Galleries Or Elsewhere, Would Draw It Out And Nibble It,
While Disseminating Inaccuracies Touching On Pictures And Statues
And Things.
Among other places, he took us to the oldest church in Vienna.
As I now recollect it was six hundred years old. No; on second
thought I will say it must have been older than that. No church
could possibly become so moldy and mangy looking as that church
in only six hundred years. The object in this church that interested
me most was contained in an ornate glass case placed near the altar
and alongside the relics held to be sacred. It did not exactly
please me to gaze at this article; but the thing had a fascination
for me; I will not deny that.
It seems that a couple of centuries ago there was an officer in
Vienna, a captain in rank and a Frenchman by birth, who, in the
midst of disorders and licentiousness, lived so godly and so
sanctified a life that his soldiers took it into their heads that
he was really a saint, or at least had the making of a first-rate
saint in him, and, therefore, must lead a charmed life. So - thus
runs the tale - some of them laid a wager with certain Doubting
Thomases, also soldiers, that neither by fire nor water, neither
by rope nor poison, could he take harm to himself.
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