e such very unpleasant remarks."

110. "I am an Old English Catholic."

In England, whatever objections Protestants may make to Roman Catholic
services, they admit that everything is done decently and in order.
The laxity, however, in the Italian churches is, or was until recently,
beyond belief, and every traveller brought home some queer tale. Mrs.
Burton, who prided herself on being "an old English Catholic," was
frequently distressed by these irregularities, and she never hesitated
to reprove the offending priests. One day a priest who had called at
Burton's house was requested to conduct a brief service in Mrs. Burton's
private chapel. But the way in which he went through the various
ceremonies so displeased Mrs. Burton that she called out to him, "Stop!
stop! pardon me, I am an old English Catholic--and therefore particular.
You are not doing it right--Stand aside, please, and let me show you."
So the astonished priest stood aside, and Mrs. Burton went through all
the gesticulations, genuflexions, etcetera, in the most approved
style. Burton, who was standing by, regarded the scene with suppressed
amusement. When all was over, he touched the priest on the shoulder and
said gravely and slowly, pointing to Mrs. Burton: "Do you know who
this is? It is my wife. And you know she will some day die--We all must
die--And she will be judged--we must all be judged--and there's a
very long and black list against her. But when the sentence is being
pronounced she will jump up and say: 'Stop! stop! please pardon my
interruption, but I am an old English Catholic.'"

To one house, the hostess of which was one of the most fashionable women
in London, Burton, no matter how much pressed, had never been prevailed
upon to go. He disliked the lady and that was enough. "Here's an
invitation for all of us to Lady ----'s," said Mrs. Burton to him one
day in honied tones. "Now, Dick, darling, this time you must go just for
Lisa's sake. It's a shame she should lose so excellent a chance of going
into good society. Other people go, why shouldn't we? Eh, darling?"

"What won't people do," growled Burton, "for the sake of a dinner!"

Eventually, however, after an explosion, and he'd be asterisked if he
would, and might the lady herself be asterisked, etcetera, etcetera,
etcetera, "Dick Darling" was coaxed over, and he, Mrs. Burton and Lisa
at the appointed time sallied forth in all the glory of war paint, and
in due course were us