"Don't be angry with me, Bateman," said Sheffield, "and, before going, I
will put forth a parable. Here's the Church of England, as like a
Protestant Establishment as it can stare; bishops and people, all but a
few like yourselves, call it Protestant; the living body calls itself
Protestant; the living body abjures Catholicism, flings off the name and
the thing, hates the Church of Rome, laughs at sacramental power,
despises the Fathers, is jealous of priestcraft, is a Protestant
reality, is a Catholic sham. This existing reality, which is alive and
no mistake, you wish to top with a filagree-work of screens, dorsals,
pastoral staffs, croziers, mitres, and the like. Now most excellent
Bateman, will you hear my parable? will you be offended at it?"

Silence gave consent, and Sheffield proceeded.

"Why, once on a time a negro boy, when his master was away, stole into
his wardrobe, and determined to make himself fine at his master's
expense. So he was presently seen in the streets, naked as usual, but
strutting up and down with a cocked hat on his head, and a pair of white
kid gloves on his hands."

"Away with you! get out, you graceless, hopeless fellow!" said Bateman,
discharging the sofa-bolster at his head. Meanwhile Sheffield ran to the
door, and quickly found himself with Charles in the street below.

CHAPTER VIII.

Sheffield and Charles may go their way; but we must follow White and
Willis out of Bateman's lodgings. It was a Saint's day, and they had no
lectures; they walked arm-in-arm along Broad Street, evidently very
intimate, and Willis found his voice: "I can't bear that Freeborn," said
he, "he's such a prig; and I like him the less because I am obliged to
know him."

"You knew him in the country, I think?" said White.

"In consequence, he has several times had me to his spiritual
tea-parties, and has introduced me to old Mr. Grimes, a good,
kind-hearted old _fogie_, but an awful evangelical, and his wife worse.
Grimes is the old original religious tea-man, and Freeborn imitates him.
They get together as many men as they can, perhaps twenty freshmen,
bachelors, and masters, who sit in a circle, with cups and saucers in
their hands and hassocks at their knees. Some insufferable person of
Capel Hall or St. Mark's, who hardly speaks English, under pretence of
asking Mr. Grimes some divinity question, holds forth on original sin,
or justification, or assurance, monopolizing the conversation. Then