Jebediah, where are you?

February 19th, 1761...

Travelling in the modest carriage of my dear friend, Jebediah Mondrake, I arrived at the fine old church of East Lexham in Norfolke around midday. On this crisp winters day snow lay all around, and I spied a solitary Robin Red Breast standing like a  sentinel upon the Holly bush yonder; poised the little fella was, as if to salute our arrival. Before my stockinged leg had even stepped beyond the aforementioned vehicle, Jebediah had gamboled off into the churchyard, bandy-legged like a Spring lamb.

Recorded within the handsome calf-skin bound volume, nestled snugly in the pocket of my frock coat, were notes about the church composed by the learned antiquarian, and fellow member of the Ragged Society of Antiquarian Ramblers, Pariah Greengrass...

"Whilst the ignorant ploughboy is oft tymes heard to proclaim that this construction be the relict of a well remayning from the tyme of the flood, this is clearly erroneous. Rather, the rigorous endeavours of certyaine notable Antiquarians have indisputably established this to be a Roman Slaughter Tower, from whence the daughters of the red-headed queen Boadicea were cast off into oblivion!"

There I stood, transfixed, looking up at the vertiginous tower, whilst those poor fragile creatures, conjured to form in the wings of my mind's eye, fell to their ghastly end. Whereupon, aghast at the thought of such brutality, I felt compelled to go and investigate the soil proximate to the tower to see if there was still some impression left by the impact of those poor fallen babes. There was not.

I was carefully examining some curious mossy growth on the tower, when a bony hand clasped my shoulder, causing me to shriek out loud like Mrs Briggs herself...
"Aieek!" cried I.

"Nature's art forms Sir!"

It was Jebediah, returned from his frolics in search of snowdrops and other such winter wonders. 

"Art forms?" answered I, perplexed.

"Yay indeed Sir. Even in such seemingly unpromising mossy compositions as these, if you take your eye-glass and look closely, a jewel-box of forms will be revealed - a jewel-box I say! "

We fell to silence, and, recovering from my momentary reverie, I noted that Jebediah stood, head back with mouth gaping open in wonder as he stared fixedly up at the tower...

"What a truly splendid erection this is Cornelius! I have not seen one as large or as long lasting as this in a long time." 

And then he was off again, scuttling out of the gate and off into the small woods proximate to the church ; in search of  small creatures, the beauty of nature - and a place to piss no doubt!

I am writing this entry some five hours after Jebediah's disappearance, and although dusk has dimmed our lights he is still nowhere to be seen. I have eaten Jebediah's cold pork cuts and  pasties, and drunk a good swig of Nog. Sitting here in the carriage with a blanket on my knees, warmed only by my prodigious farts and the embers of my pipe, I find myself remembering Dan Tangle's verdict upon poore Jebediah -
"He is a perfect jobbernob Cornelius - as much use to a man as a one-winged butterfly!"
In reply, I had discoursed at length about the virtues of both Jebediah and one-winged butterflies, but alack, now...
Now, I am very much afeared that I may yet be waiting here for some considerable time...  
© Cornelius Hump, Esq.
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