There was much ado in this semi-ancient place as we came up, for Christmas day, of all days, naturally drew forth a history-loving English audience. Choir boys were scurrying here and there, some ladies of solemn demeanor, who looked as if they might be assisting at the service in some way or another, were dawdling about, and I even saw the rector in full canonicals hastening up a gravel path toward a side door, as though matters needed to be expedited considerably. The interior was dark, heavy-beamed, and by no means richly ornamented with stained glass, but redolent of by-gone generations at that. The walls were studded with those customary slabs and memorial carvings with which the English love to ornament their church interiors. A fair-sized, and yet for so large an edifice, meager audience was present, an evidence it seemed to me, of the validity of the protest against state support for the Established Church. There was a great storm of protest in England at this time against the further state support of an institution that was not answering the religious needs of the people, and there had been some discussion of the matter at Barfleur’s house. As was natural, the artistically inclined were in favor of anything which would sustain, unimpaired, whether they had religious value or not, all the old cathedrals, abbeys, and neighborhood churches, solely because of their poetic appearance. On the other hand an immense class, derisively spoken of as “chapel people,” were heartily in favor of the ruder disposition of the matter. Barfleur in his best Piccadilly clothing was for their maintenance.