e; and then--and then--" and here the man in black
drank a considerable quantity of gin and water.

"What then?" said I.

"What then?" said the man in black, "why, she will be true to herself.
Let Dissenters, whether they be Church of England, as perhaps they may
still call themselves, Methodist, or Presbyterian, presume to grumble,
and there shall be bruising of lips in pulpits, tying up to
whipping-posts, cutting off ears and noses--he! he! the farce of King Log
has been acted long enough; the time for Queen Stork's tragedy is drawing
nigh;" and the man in black sipped his gin and water in a very exulting
manner.

"And this is the Church which, according to your assertion in the public-
house, never persecutes?"

"I have already given you an answer," said the man in black, "with
respect to the matter of the public-house; it is one of the happy
privileges of those who belong to my Church to deny in the public-house
what they admit in the dingle; {156} we have high warranty for such
double speaking. Did not the foundation-stone of our Church, St. Peter,
deny in the public house what he had previously professed in the valley?"

"And do you think," said I, "that the people of England, who have shown
aversion to anything in the shape of intolerance, will permit such
barbarities as you have described?"

"Let them become Papists," said the man in black; "only let the majority
become Papists, and you will see."

"They will never become so," said I; "the good sense of the people of
England will never permit them to commit such an absurdity."

"The good sense of the people of England?" said the man in black, filling
himself another glass.

"Yes," said I; "the good sense of not only the upper, but the middle and
lower classes."

"And of what description of people are the upper class?" said the man in
black, putting a lump of sugar into his gin and water.

"Very fine people," said I, "monstrously fine people; so, at least, they
are generally believed to be."

"He! he!" said the man in black; "only those think them so who don't know
them. The male part of the upper class are in youth a set of heartless
profligates; in old age, a parcel of poor, shaking, nervous paillards.
The female part, worthy to be the sisters and wives of such wretches,
unmarried, full of cold vice, kept under by vanity and ambition, but
which, after marriage, they seek not to restrain; in old age, abandoned
to vapours and horrors, do you thin