nfluence over her husband, if he loves her,
and that you will be sure to do to any woman whom you make your wife. I
should not like to have you marry out of your own Church.'

Pitt's head went round, and he laughed again.

'In good time!' he said. 'I assure you, mother, you are in no danger
yet.'

'I thought this morning,' said his mother, hesitating,--'I was afraid,
from what you said, that some Methodist, or some other Dissenter, might
have got hold of you.'

Pitt was silent. The word struck him, and jarred a little. Was his
mother not grazing the truth? And a vague notion rose in his mind,
without actually taking shape, which just now he had not time to attend
to, but which cast a shadow, like a young cloud. He was silent, and his
mother after a little pause went on.

'Methodists and Dissenters are not much in Mr. Strahan's way, I am
sure; and you would hardly be troubled by them at Oxford. How was it,
Pitt? Where did you get these new notions?'

'Do they sound like Dissent, mother?'

'I do not know what they sound like. Not like you. I want to know what
they mean, and how you came by them?'

He did not immediately answer.

'I have been thinking on this subject a good while,' he said
slowly,--'a good while. You know, Mr. Strahan is a great antiquary, and
very full of knowledge about London. He has taken pleasure in going
about with me, and instructing me, and he is capital company; but at
last I learned enough to go by myself sometimes, without him; and I
used to ramble about through the places where he had taken me, to
review and examine and ponder things at my leisure. I grew very fond of
London. It is like an immense illustrated book of history.

'One day I was wandering in one of the busy parts of the city, and
turned aside out of the roar and the bustle into a little chapel, lying
close to the roar but separate from it. I had been there before, and
knew there were some fine marbles in the place; one especially, that I
wanted to see again. I was alone that day, and could take my time; and
I went in. It is the tomb of some old dignitary who lived several
centuries ago. I do not know what he was in life; but in death, as this
effigy represents him, it is something beautiful to look upon. I forget
at this minute the name of the sculptor; his work I shall never forget.
It is wonderfully fine. The gravity, and the sweetness, and the
ineffable repose of the figure, are beyond praise. I stood looking,
study