angel's sins.

'Good, you see, comes out of evil,' I observed.

He shook his head.

'Well, painted pulpits do then,' I amended; for who that is in his
senses would contradict a parson?

I gave a last glance at the quaint pulpit across which a shaft of
coloured sunlight lay, inquired if I might make an offering for the poor
of Bobbin, made it, thanked my amiable guide, and was accompanied by him
out into the heat that danced among the tombstones down to the carriage.
To the last he was mild and kind, tucking the Holland cover round me
with the same solicitude that he might have shown in a January
snowstorm.

Glowe, my destination, is not far from Bobbin. On the way we passed the
Schloss with the four towers where the wicked Wrangel committed all
those sins that presently crystallised into a painted pulpit. The
Schloss, called the Spyker Schloss, is let to a farmer. We met him
riding home, to his coffee, I suppose, it being now nearly five, and I
caught a glimpse of a beautiful old garden with ancient pyramids of box,
many flowers, broad alleys, and an aggressively new baby in a
perambulator beneath the trees, rending the holy quiet of the afternoon
with its shrieks. They pursued us quite a long way along the bald high
road that brought us after another mile to Glowe.

Glowe is a handful of houses built between the high road and the sea.
There is nothing on the other side of the road but a great green plain
stretching to the Bodden. We stopped at the first inn we came to--it was
almost the first house--a meek, ugly little place, with the following
severe advice to tourists hanging up in the entrance:--

_Sag was Du willst kurz und bestimmt._
_Lass alle schoene Phrasen fehlen;_
_Wer nutzlos unsere Zeit uns nimmt_
_Bestiehlt uns--und Du sollst nicht stehlen._

Accordingly I was very short with the landlord when he appeared, left
out most of my articles, all of my adjectives, clipped my remarks of
weaknesses such as please and thank you, and became at last ferociously
monosyllabic in my effort to give satisfaction. My room was quite nice,
with two windows looking across the plain. Cows were tethered on it
almost to where the Bodden glittered in the sun, and it was scattered
over with great pale patches of clover. On the left was the Spyker
Schloss, with the spire of Bobbin church behind it. Far away in front,
blue with distance but still there, rose as usual the round tower of the
ubiquitous Ja