“‘Sure, Ma’am,’ I said, ‘what would make her leave the cards here, we’re no gamblers;’ this was when first I was own maid to my mistress—so she smiled again, and said how it was I did not understand that ladies left their names printed on pasteboard squares; and that was the same thing as a visit. Well! I had my own thought of what a cold, unnatural thing it was to send a square of pasteboard up to a poor sick lady, instead of comforting her, with a bright smile and kind words, and all sorts of cheerful discourse. But I supposed it was manners, and every people have their own; and then she asked for the _cards_. Now, the mistress of the house we lodged in, scrambled up every bit of them pasteboards with a title, and stuck them round the looking-glass, in her little, dingy back-parlor, for a nobility show. So I had to go and ask her to pick out all the Lady Jane Vivians, which she did, and gave them with a toss of her head, saying, ‘She did not want such a scrap of an ould maid’s title for the matter of that, she had lords and dukes! calling on her, before now.’ It was on the tip of my tongue to say, ‘Calling on your lodgers, you mean, ma’am,’ but I held my peace. Well! would you believe it? My own mistress was as proud of them five bits of pasteboard, as I’d be of five shillings! And she bade me bring her a fine chaney dish with a small tea-party painted on it, up in the air and down on the earth, beside a little railway, and little tufty houses one atop of the other, and bells at the corners—a fine ancient dish it is, like nothing on the earth or in the sea, which she says shows its imagination; well, she takes every one of the cards up in her poor, thin, trembling fingers, and then she rubs them clean and puts them right; the Misters and Mistresses, and the young Misses all down below, and the Sirs and Lords and Ladies on the top; mighty neat entirely to look at; and all the time, the darling! she was railing at the vanity of the lodging-house woman who wanted to show off the fine names, and never seemed to think that she was doing the same thing; to be sure, she had a right to them, and right is right; but the vanity, to my thinking, was all one. I had a deal more to tell you about _that_ church—but _one who knows_ said, it was fitter for me to hold my tongue; the reason is this, that it’s better for us, you understand, to keep on never heeding them, and not to put them in mind of what they are doing, and they will all walk, as easy as any thing, back to the fine, true, ould, ancient church of Rome: they call it _High Church_ now, but if they’re let alone, _one who knows_ says, they’ll soon be higher, on the highest pinnacle of St. Peter’s! so all we have to say, aunt dear, is just good luck to every poor traveler on the _right road_.