But perhaps these remarks are not more than the glib commonplaces of a man who had found Christianity convenient, but not exactly sufficient. In another place he says: "The wisest course evidently is to combine a portion of the philosophy of the tombstone with a portion of the philosophy of the publican and something more, to enjoy one's pint and pipe and other innocent pleasures, and to think every now and then of death and judgment--that is what I intend to do, and indeed is what I have done for the last thirty years." Which is as much as to say that he was of "the religion of all sensible men": which is as much as to say that he did not greatly trouble about such matters. In the cognate matter of patriotism Borrow is superficially more unsound in "Wild Wales." At Birmingham railway station he "became a modern Englishman, enthusiastically proud of modern England's science and energy"; at the sight of Norman castles he felt no Norman enthusiasm, but only hate for the Norman name, which he associated with "the deflowering of helpless Englishwomen, the plundering of English homesteads, and the tearing out of Englishmen's eyes"; but when he was asked on Snowdon if he was a Breton, he replied: "I wish I was, or anything but what I am, one of a nation amongst whom any knowledge save what relates to money-making and over-reaching is looked upon as a disgrace. I am ashamed to say that I am an Englishman." And at Gutter Fawr he gloomily expressed the opinion that we were not going to beat the Russians--"the Russians are a young nation and we are an old; they are coming on and we are going off; every dog has its day." But this was mere refractoriness. England had not asked his advice; she had moreover joined forces with her old enemy, France: the patriot therefore hoped that she would perish to fulfil his own prophecy that she must. And after the vaticination he sat down to a large dish of veal cutlets, fried bacon and potatoes, with a jug of ale, and "made one of the best suppers he ever made in his life," finally "trifling" with some whisky and water. That is "the religion of every sensible man," which is Lord Tennyson's phrase, I believe, but my interpretation. CHAPTER XXXI--"WILD WALES": STYLE