"To be sure, certainly," said he; then he looked at the toe of his boot, and then at the pattern of the carpet; in fact, anywhere but at me. Then he coughed, and said--for all the world as if he was talking of prawns--"I'm told there's very good preaching about here." "I should hope, MR. TRUEPENNY, that there is good preaching everywhere; that is, if persons are only disposed to listen to it." MR. TRUEPENNY--his eye still on his boot--bowed. "I hope," said I, "you will accompany us to church?" "What! I?" cried the man, really alarmed. "To be sure: why not?" said FRED, coming into the room. "And then, TOM, we'll take a walk--LOTTY isn't equal to the fatigue"--how did he know that?--"and then we'll all dine, and comfortably close the day together." "Well, I--I--I've no objection," said MR. TRUEPENNY; as though desperately making up his mind to endure the worst. "A most admirable preacher, I'm told. Has preached before his Gracious Majesty, when Prince Regent," said FRED. "Indeed?" said MR. TRUEPENNY, as if he wished to be astonished. "A great favourite at Brighton; he's so extremely mild and well-bred. Touches upon the pomps and vanities of this wicked world--and scourges the miserable sinners who keep carriages--gently, tenderly. For all the world as if with a bunch of peacock's feathers you'd dust so many images of Dresden China." "That's lucky," said MR. TRUEPENNY. "_Why_ lucky?" I asked--for there _was_ something in the man's manner. "I meant to say," he stammered, "that there are times when one doesn't like--like one's sins to be--bullied--that is, not at the sea-side." "Quite right, TOM," said FRED, who I could see was helping him out. "Very well in one's own parish church, but"-- "We shall be too late," said I, and I ran from the room; and in a minute--never in all my life did I put my bonnet on so quick--in a minute I was ready. The church was extremely full--as we afterwards found--for the season. FREDERICK was particularly serious; and for MR. TRUEPENNY, if he'd been listening to his own condemned sermon, he couldn't have been more solemn. It was odd, too, I thought, the glances he now and then cast towards me. And particularly when the clergyman said--and he seemed, I really _did_ think for the minute, as though he was looking right into our pew, when he said--"_Thou shalt do no murder_"--at the very words, MR. TRUEPENNY let his prayer-book slip, and made such a start to catch it, that he drew all eyes upon us. I saw FREDERICK colour scarlet, and bite his lips as he glanced at his friend. At last the service was over, and we got away. "A very nice sermon," said MR. TRUEPENNY, trying to say something. "Very soothing," I added; for I knew he was half-asleep all the time. "Yes; that's it," said he: "but that's what I like, when I come to a watering-place. Something quiet, something to think over."