the way of all flesh

The Way of All Fleshby Samuel ButlerCHAPTER IWhen I was a small boy at the beginning of the century I remember anold man who wore knee-breeches and worsted stockings, and who usedto hobble about the street of our village with the help of a stick.He must have been getting on for eighty in the year 1807, earlierthan which date I suppose I can hardly remember him, for I was bornin 1802. A few white locks hung about his ears, his shoulders werebent and his knees feeble, but he was still hale, and was muchrespected in our little world of Paleham. His name was Pontifex.His wife was said to be his master; I have been told she brought hima little money, but it cannot have been much. She was a ta

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