Well, all this introduction leads to the events of the day. This morning we went to the cathedral. I must say it was a shock to find that there were less than a hundred people in the choir--where the service was held. However, all went well enough until the sermon: the preacher announced--no, _sung_--his text, "Blessed among women shall Jael the wife of Heber the Kenite be. Blessed shall she be among women in the tent," and then proceeded: "We will think of Jael, my dear brethren, not merely as the wife of Heber the Kenite, but rather as a type of the Blessed Virgin." What followed I shall never know, for at this moment John picked up his hat and umbrella and left, and I, fearing he might be faint, quickly followed. When we got outside, I said, "Are you sick, dear?" and he replied: "Not yet, but I should have been had I waited a moment longer." "Was the air close?" I innocently asked. "No, it was as damp and drafty as usual, but I could not have stood that creature another minute." Then followed a diatribe on the Established Church, which I will spare you. Before he had finished, there was not one stone left upon another of the cathedral system! "Such an array of clergy, such a choir, such an organ, such everything to make the service glorious, and yet fewer people than could be found in a mission chapel--the extravagance of it, the futility of it--why, half the people there were American tourists! Why don't they take the money and use it for some good purpose?" "'This ointment might have been sold for much,'" I quoted. "No, you don't," he growled. "Was the 'whole house filled with the odor of the ointment'? Is England? Is this town? Was the great cathedral? Was the choir even? There was no odor of ointment. There was nothing but a _stench_!" "John!" I protested. "Well, perhaps that was too strong. But, honestly, was there any feeling of the majesty of God there? I say nothing of his love--any pity for poor struggling souls? 'A type of the Blessed Virgin,' forsooth! If he must talk of Jael, why did he not tell the truth and remind the people that if she were living to-day she would be in jail--no, that is not a pun--waiting for the report of the grand jury? Is it not due to Mary's Son that she can no longer be counted 'blessed'? It is not the blasphemy, it is the unreality of the whole performance which is so dreadful. The preacher no doubt is a decent, law-abiding Englishman, who would be horrified if he read such a story in the _Times_, but because it is embedded in the Bible he considers it his duty to find a mystic meaning in it. This sort of talk is what leads to moral confusion, and is one of the reasons why the church is losing its hold on thoughtful people. The day was when the 'world' was full of darkness and the church full of light, but now the 'world' has a clearer moral vision than the church--or, at any rate, than that preposterous creature has."