'Yes! English people are all alike! They insist upon choosing for themselves, and having done so, they would impose their choice upon everybody else. That is not so bad perhaps when they stick to the old-fashioned ways--in my young days we all got on most comfortably together; but now when they have adopted so many new notions, apostolical succession for instance, which we never used to hear of, it seems a trifle unreasonable that people who have so much difficulty in knowing their own views should expect others to accept them too. For myself, I find the Act of Parliament and the law of the land the best religious director, and wherever I live I mean to conform to the Established Church of the country--always excepting France, and I never will live there. I have not forgot yet how we used to be threatened with Popery and wooden shoes if ever the French should land upon our shores. Now, the English Church people are dissenters in Scotland, just as Presbyterians are in England. But I hate the very name of dissenter, as of all disloyalty, and therefore I attend the English Church when in England, just as I do the Scotch in Scotland.' 'But if the ministers of the Scotch form of worship are not priests, how can they constitute a Church? That is my difficulty.' 'The Act of Settlement says that they do, and there is no going behind the law of the land. The Archbishop of Paris probably does not consider the Archbishop of Canterbury a priest, or able to constitute a Church; but no Englishman would be worth his salt who cared for what a Frenchman said. As for the clergy in different countries, they are all most excellent people, but they require a Queen Elizabeth or some such person to keep them in their own place. They are all, priests and presbyters alike, inclined to be meddlesome and tyrannical; and if we would only let them, they would rule us with a rod of iron. I am quite familiar with your prejudices, and even respect them, so far; my brother Pitthevlis is a Scotch Episcopalian, and I was so brought up myself, but I fear I must say they are a little narrow, and too like your own new disturbers (Puseyites, you call them, I think), ever to be possible as a national Church.' Mr. Wallowby bridled slightly. He thought he was a Puseyite himself, and had great scorn for the Low Church party; but in those pre-ritualistic days his High Churchism was, like most other laymen's, little more than a taste for illuminated windows, surpliced choirs, intoned prayers, and a musical service; and that rather on account of its 'swellness,' than as a means of edification; and he would have been as prompt as any Low Churchman to cry out 'Popery' against the modern developments. Thirty years have passed since then, and many things have changed. Mr. Wallowby had raised his head to do battle for his faith, but meanwhile Lady Caroline had meandered on to other themes, so what he might have said can never be known.