eam of
such a thing?"

"Then I suppose nothing's to be done," said Louisa, taking off her
bonnet; "but really it is very sad to make worship so cold and formal a
thing. Twice as many people would go to church if they might be late."

"Well, my dear, all things are changed now: in my younger days Catholics
were the formal people, and we were the devotional; now it's just the
reverse."

"But isn't it so, dear mamma?" said Charlotte, "isn't it something much
more beautiful, this continued concourse, flowing and ebbing, changing
yet full, than a way of praying which is as wooden as the
reading-desk?--it's so free and natural."

"Free and easy, _I_ think," said her mother; "for shame, Charlotte! how
can you speak against the beautiful Church Service; you pain me."

"I don't," answered Charlotte; "it's a mere puritanical custom, which is
no more part of our Church than the pews are."

"Common Prayer is offered to all who can come," said Louisa; "Church
should be a privilege, not a mere duty."

"Well, my dear love, this is more than I can follow. There was young
George Ashton--he always left before the sermon; and when taxed with it,
he said he could not bear an heretical preacher; a boy of eighteen!"

"But, dearest mamma," said Charlotte, "what _is_ to be done when a
preacher is heretical? what else can be done?--it's so distressing to a
Catholic mind."

"Catholic, Catholic!" cried Mrs. Bolton, rather vexed; "give me good old
George the Third and the Protestant religion. Those were the times!
Everything went on quietly then. We had no disputes or divisions; no
differences in families. But now it is all otherwise. My head is turned,
I declare; I hear so many strange, out-of-the-way things."

The young ladies did not answer; one looked out of the window, the other
prepared to leave the room.

"Well it's a disappointment to us all," said their mother; "you first
hindered me going, then I have hindered you. But I suspect, dear Louisa,
mine is the greater disappointment of the two."

Louisa turned round from the window.

"I value the Prayer Book as you cannot do, my love," she continued; "for
I have known what it is to one in deep affliction. May it be long,
dearest girls, before you know it in a similar way; but if affliction
comes on you, depend on it, all these new fancies and fashions will
vanish from you like the wind, and the good old Prayer Book alone will
stand you in any stead."

They were both touched.