In arriving at this conclusion I suppose I lagged a bit, for one of my escort with his lance from behind progged me in a fleshy part, to make me walk a little quicker. I threatened him with law, but he laughed. Laughed at being threatened with law! In what a benighted condition Rome must be. We reached the court, and I was at once brought before the prefect, who happened to be then sitting. He had just disposed of a Roman Christian or two. One he had ordered to be smeared with honey and exposed to wasps and bees; another he had condemned to be hamstrung, a third to be hugged to death by a bear. An ugly prospect for my poor self—not that I considered self one moment, but I did feel keenly for my poor wife, whose feelings would be harrowed should she read the acts of my martyrdom in Ruinart. “Sirrah!” exclaimed the prefect, darting at me a malignant glance. “Who are you? Another Christian dog, eh?” I pulled up my shirt collar, and after a premonitory cough, replied with dignity and composure, “Illustrious Sir, allow me briefly and lucidly to explain to you the peculiar circumstances which have brought me into this predicament.” “Are you a Roman?” asked the judge in a surly manner. “No, my Lord, I am an Englishman, parson of Grubbington-in-the-Clay.” “Humph! I suppose you are a Christian.” “Christian is a broad term,” I replied, “and may mean anything. A Protestant and consistent Anglican I am, but I utterly repudiate all connexion with the Roman Church which I stoutly maintain, in the language of our incomparable Thirty-nine Articles, to have erred, not only in their living and manner of ceremonies, but also in matters of faith. I regard too, the Romish doctrine concerning purgatory, pardons, worshipping and adoration of images, as of reliques, and also invocation of saints, to be a fond thing vainly invented, and grounded upon no warranty of Scripture, but rather repugnant to the word of God. I do most stoutly maintain this, and show me the member of this Church who can stand against me in argument.” The prefect looked at me with a puzzled air, and then asked what I did believe. “I believe that Bishops, priests, and deacons, are not commanded either to vow the estate of single life, or to abstain from marriage: and therefore that it is lawful for them, as for all other men, to marry at their own discretion. I may add, that my wife entirely agrees with me on this point.” The prefect uttered an insulting remark with regard to my intellectual capabilities. “Are you a Christian?” he asked. I allowed that I was, “but”——. He cut me short as I was about to qualify the remark on the apostolic principle of being all things to all men, and not causing my brother to offend, and asked whether I would swear by the genius of the Emperor.