The next day was Sunday, which began, I need not say, with a bountiful breakfast, at which, of course, we served ourselves, Mr. Sanford walking around the room with a little blue bowl in his hand, eating porridge and talking delightfully. By the way, do you believe the story of the American "Belle Mère," who, arriving at the castle of her noble son-in-law late at night and therefore coming to the dining-room for the first time at breakfast, and, seeing no servants, said to her daughter: "Honey, can't you get no 'help' at all over here?" I do not. Ruth does, and begged me not to tell the story here lest it be thought that the good lady was typical! I do not think Mrs. Sanford would have believed it. But, if she had, she would have understood, for she has many American friends and a more sympathetic understanding of our problems than any one I have so far met in England. Mr. Sanford was rather inclined to be depressed about England, and deplored the present policy of the Liberal Government--especially in regard to land. Of course I know nothing about the matter, but I could not help thinking I heard a faint echo of the old non-juror's voice. This, however, is sure, he is the quintessence of the feudal system at its best, having its deep sense of responsibility. We walked to the little church, which is at their gate, and as we drew near and met the people on their way to worship, I was struck by the affection--so much better than perfunctory respect--with which my hosts were greeted both by farmers and tenants alike. Mr. Sanford showed Ruth and me into the second pew in the transept, while he and his wife occupied the one in front of it, which is the squire's. He read the lessons, and I wished I could read as well! I once heard a distinguished minister at home praised for his reading of the Bible because it "sounded so modern--as if he were reading the morning paper." Well, his reading was not in the least like that! He read with deep reverence, as "The covenant made with our fathers" and now delivered unto us. The rector, a cousin of our host's, was indisposed, and his place was taken by a near-by vicar. The sermon had neither the interest of the morning paper nor the awe of an ancient revelation! Indeed, it was a stupid thing, which I guessed was one of those which, it is said, can be bought "ready made," and of any shade of churchmanship. This one had no color at all! The preacher was invited to dine with the squire and accepted. He must be a survival. He explained the difficulty the country parson has in collecting his tithes. Turning to his host, he said: "I had a most disagreeable task last week; Scroston was in arrears again, and I had to distrain his cow." Mr. Sanford looked much distressed, and said: "I don't think I should have done that."