I should have said that I went to church on Sunday with my uncle and aunt. I was quite amazed at the splendor of the church, which had recently been refitted, and delighted with the service, especially with the chanting and singing. The sermon also I thought very good, though I did not quite like the preacher's manner. But if I was pleased with the clergyman, I was horrified at the manners of the congregation. I saw the fine ladies and gentlemen bowing and curtsying to each other, whispering—nay, all but talking aloud—and passing snuff-boxes and smelling-bottles back and forth. One of the gentlemen I had seen at my aunt's the day before, bowed to me as he came in, but I looked the other way. "What a gracey sermon—just like a Presbyterian," said my aunt, yawning, without any disguise, almost before the congregation was dismissed. "And why did you not curtsy when Mr. Butler bowed to you? Did you not see him?" Then I made one of the great mistakes of my life. I yielded to that miserable shame of doing right, which is the undoing of so many, and answered, "I was looking another way." "Oh, I thought perhaps it was against your principles," said my aunt, in that light tone of contempt which always stung me to the quick. "I know some of our Puritans will not acknowledge a salute in church. I don't believe my old Lady Crewe would return a bow from the king himself, if prayers had begun." "Yes, she is true to her colors," said my uncle. "I like her the better for it too," and he sighed a little. I heard afterward that he had been a great precisian in the days of the Protector, though, like many others of the same sort, he went to the other extreme now. Their fear of God, like mine own, was taught by the precept of men, and therefore was easily enough overthrown by the same. "But you must have your wits about you, child," said my aunt. "'Tis a dreadfully uncivil thing not to return a salute. Mr. Butler will think you a little rustic." I am ashamed to say that I was more troubled at the thought that Mr. Butler should think me a rustic than at the lie I had told. When I came to my mother, she asked me of the sermon, and I told her all I could remember. "'Tis a great privilege to hear the blessed Word preached openly to all the people," said my mother, sighing a little. "'Tis a privilege a good many do not seem to appreciate," said Andrew, who had come in as usual to see my mother; "you should see the king and countess at church, madame. The Duke of York spent the whole of sermon-time this morning talking and laughing with some painted madams or other, through the curtains of the pews. If my cousin had been the preacher, I believe he would have spoken to them before all the congregation. What can you expect when our rulers set such an example?" "What did the king do?" I asked. "He was more attentive to the preacher. He is not one to hurt any one's feelings by incivility, though he would not care for his going to the rack, so he did not see it."