As time passed onward the reverend gentleman began to evince decided Low Church tendencies; the reason of this became shortly apparent on his receiving from an evangelical elderly maiden lady in the parish, the presentation to a very fat living, which was intended as a provision for her Puseyite nephew, who was by reason of his disappointment driven into the arms of the Church of Rome. From this moment the Vicar became quite a saint—in his own estimation at least—and to prove his “title to the skies” he condemned every one who did not share his theological opinions to the infernal regions.—Here let me make one observation, which is that although I have met many of all creeds, who devoutly believe in eternal punishment—_for their neighbors_—and who are quite annoyed if any presume to throw a doubt on this dogma of their several churches, I have never as yet met _one_ who expected _himself_ to be eternally lost, or who did not profess the hope of salvation he denied to others. Accordingly the Vicar asserted about seven times a day on an average, that _he_ was _sure_ of Heaven whatever he had done, or might yet do, because _Christ died for him_. This pernicious doctrine is, sad to say, frequently held by what in England is termed the Low Church or evangelical party, in contradistinction to the High Church and Puseyites, who are considered, especially the latter, to favor too much the Romish doctrine of the necessity of good works. All our neighbors, no matter how amiable or charitable, were pitilessly black-balled by Mr. Dale as children of the Evil One. Alas, that a minister of our Divine Master should so far forget that great precept, “Judge not that ye be not judged.” Alas! that he should thus ignore the apostolic teachings and forget that “charity _thinketh no evil_.” Our society was naturally much restricted; two or three half-starved curates and a few long-visaged ladies of “undoubted piety” were alone permitted occasionally to taste of the hospitality of the Vicar. Hence too we were condemned to be present at long family prayers, with scripture expoundings, and nasal hymn-singing twice a day. A lecture in church, a couple of prayer-meetings, and another to consider prophecy, we were also expected to attend every week in the cottage of some elect brother or sister. Evelyn, ever impetuous, almost took a disgust to Religion held up to her example in so distasteful a form. She was young and ardent, and her judgment was that of a child. “Oh, Mary!” she would exclaim, “CAN Heaven be made up of such people?—if so, surely, surely it will not be a very pleasant place.” In after years my readers will perceive that the sentiments of my by no means faultless heroine were greatly modified on many subjects.