_Ellesmere_. We have said a great deal about the companionship of human beings; but, upon my word, we ought to have kept a few words for our dog friends. Rollo has been lolling out his great tongue, and looking wistfully from face to face, as we each began our talk. A few minutes ago he was quite concerned, thinking I was angry with you, when I would not let you “but” my aphorism. I am not sure which of the three I should rather go out walking with now: Dunsford, Rollo, Milverton. The middle one is the safest companion. I am sure not to get out of humour with him. But I have no objection to try the whole three: only I vote for much continuity of silence, as we have had floods of discussion to-day. _Dunsford_. Agreed! _Ellesmere_. Come, Rollo, you may bark now, as you have been silent, like a wise dog, all the morning. CHAPTER VIII. IT was arranged, during our walk, that Ellesmere should come and stay a day or two with me, and see the neighbouring cathedral, which is nearer my house than Milverton’s. The visit over, I brought him back to Worth-Ashton. Milverton saw us coming, walked down the hill to meet us, and after the usual greetings, began to talk to Ellesmere. _Milverton_. So you have been to see our cathedral. I say “our,” for when a cathedral is within ten miles of us, we feel a property in it, and are ready to battle for its architectural merits. _Ellesmere_. You know I am not a man to rave about cathedrals. _Milverton_. I certainly do not expect you to do so. To me a cathedral is mostly somewhat of a sad sight. You have Grecian monuments, if anything so misplaced can be called Grecian, imbedded against and cutting into Gothic pillars; the doors shut for the greater part of the day; only a little bit of the building used: beadledom predominant; the clink of money here and there; white-wash in vigour; the singing indifferent; the sermons not indifferent but bad; and some visitors from London forming, perhaps, the most important part of the audience; in fact, the thing having become a show. We look about, thinking when piety filled every corner, and feel that the cathedral is too big for the Religion which is a dried-up thing that rattles in this empty space. _Ellesmere_. This is the boldest simile I have heard for a long time. My theory about cathedrals is very different, I must confess. _Dunsford_. Theory! _Ellesmere_. Well, “theory” is not the word I ought to have used—feeling then. My feeling is, how strong this creature was, this worship, how beautiful, how alluring, how complete; but there was something stronger—truth. _Milverton_. And more beautiful? _Ellesmere_. Yes, and far more beautiful. _Milverton_. Doubtless, to the free spirits who brought truth forward.