The Henson Journals

[39]

Thursday, December 29th, 1927.

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I finished the 'sermon' for New Year's Day, and caused 3 copies to be prepared for the Press. In the afternoon I walked round the Park with Lionel. The snow is frozen, & crackles under the foot.

Some kind person thinks it worth while to send me a type written communication to the following effect:

A Christmas Wish

for the

Prelates.

May the Almighty God send

Confusion in your deliberations

and an early repentance for your

nauseating Prelatical Pride & Sin.

24th December 1927

This is but one of many tokens of the squalid fanaticism which is running loose in the nation.

Hird sends me an ecstatically worded telegram in answer to my proposal of a small book on the crisis to be called 'Thinking Aloud: Reflections on the Crisis'. He seems to suppose that I would, and could, produce a volume of rhodomontade like Dick Shepperd's 'prophecy'. What have I said or done to deserve this?