that night-clubs were “not the thing” for young girls. How much this difference of outlook is the result of a decline in the matter of religious conviction, I cannot feel any certainty. As I see things, religion does not so often dictate to the world its standards of behaviour—a morality, or even a hypocrisy, can sometimes do that with equal effect—as help men and women to live up to the standards of the time and to rise above them. But I am afraid there is no doubt that in the sixties and seventies we had lost, in great measure, the unclouded faith and simple piety of the twenties and thirties. The religious revival in the Nonconformist Federation, which took place early in the sixties, was marked by no less extraordinary indications of spiritual exaltation than the revivals of earlier centuries; but alas! the total numbers of those who were affected by any movement within this body was no longer very considerable. The secession of the “Enthusiasts” in ’53 had drained the Anglican Church of all the elements in its own body which might have responded to a call of this kind. The Westernizers seemed to have no energy but for Church politics; they achieved, indeed, for a few years the long-cherished dream of reunion with the crumbling relics of Byzantine Christianity, but it was only in the character of Little Bo-peep that they were able to do so. The bulk of what had been the “good-will” of the Anglican connexion remained with the Relativist Party, the historical descendant of the old Liberal school of thought. The relativists were men of considerable intellectual force and deeply religious temperament, but hampered, as any religious body must be, by a total absence of belief in the supernatural. In the generation that had intervened between my girlhood and my old age Catholicism indeed had spread, but England had ceased to be a Christian country.