"Why, what do you know about statues?" he asked, running his eye over the round, fat, unstatue-like figure of the other, with a somewhat contemptuous look. "More than you do, old boy," replied the visitor, "though perhaps you have lived amongst them all your life; for I have made them all my life; and, depend upon it, there is no such way of knowing a thing as making it." "That depends upon the workman," answered the sexton, beginning to descend the ladder. "I have made graves all my days, and yet don't know them as well as many who are lying underneath there. But I'll let you in," he added, in a more placable tone; "for they are fine monuments, finer than any for a hundred miles round; and, if you do know anything about such things, you'll say so." When he reached the ground, he picked up his coat, fumbled in his pocket till he got hold of a large bunch of keys, and then, walking round to the door, opened it. The stranger entered, and his guide followed, with his back bowed and his gait somewhat halting. He had the same sort of cynical expression on his countenance as before; but the visitor's first exclamation seemed to please him; for all the pride of his nature--and every man has some pride--centred in his church and its contents. "Ay, this is something like!" exclaimed our good friend, Van Noost; "I have not seen anything like this in a ride of a hundred and fifty miles." "Dare say not," observed the sexton. "Did you come all that way to see it?" "No," replied Van Noost, who was somewhat skilful at evasions; "but I am very glad I have seen it." And, walking on, he began to scan the various monuments with critical eyes. "Why, the barbarians have been knocking the noses off!" he exclaimed, after a momentary glance at one of the tombs. "Why did you let them do that?" "Because I could not help it," answered the sexton, with a growling laugh; "seeing I was a baby and they strong men when that was done, and yet I am three score and ten, come Martinmas." "Ay, Cromwell, that devil, Cromwell, and his sacrilegious fools!" cried Van Noost. "They had no more taste or judgment than pigs in Smithfield." "That's true--that's true," cried the old sexton, chuckling. "I remember them well enough; for I was a school-boy when old Noll died, and heard him preach once. Those might understand him who could. To me, he seemed to be talking nothing but nonsense; so I grinned, and one of his soldiers gave me a thump in the side with his fire-lock which nearly broke my ribs." "Then you have cause to remember him," answered Van Noost, "and not to like him either. These are better times, master sexton." "I don't know that," replied the man, gruffly. "We have got a foreigner for our king, and that's as bad as a Protector--at least, I think so. But I don't know much of such matters," he added, with a look of shrewd caution, coming upon his face. "King George may be a very good man, and Hanover rats as good as any other vermin, for aught I know."