was retailing. Whenever I feebly interposed
an objection to any thing he said (for, after all he talked
on), he told me to hear the Catholic Church. I asked him which
Catholic Church? He said the English. I asked him whether it
was to be the Church of the sixth century, or the thirteenth,
or the seventeenth, or the eighteenth? He told me the one and
eternal Church, which belonged as much to the nineteenth
century as to the first. I begged to know whether, then, I was
to hear the Church according to Simeon, or according to Newman,
or according to St. Paul; for they seemed to me a little at
variance? He told me, austerely enough, that the mind of the
Church was embodied in her Liturgy and Articles. To which I
answered, that the mind of the episcopal clergy might, perhaps,
be; but, then, how happened it that they were always quarreling
and calling hard names about the sense of those very documents?
And so I left him, assuring him that living in the nineteenth
century, I wanted to hear the Church of the nineteenth century,
and no other; and should be most happy to listen to her, as
soon as she had made up her mind what to say."

English travellers in America give very minute accounts of the bad
grammar and questionable pronunciation they sometimes hear among our
common people: with what advantage they might go into the rural
neighborhoods of their own country for exhibitions in this line is shown
by the following description of a scene in a booth, which one of the
characters of Mr. Kingsley enters at night:

"Sadder and sadder, Lancelot tried to listen to the
conversation of the men around him. To his astonishment he
hardly understood a word of it. It was half articulate, nasal,
guttural, made up almost entirely of vowels, like the speech of
savages. He had never before been struck with the significant
contrast between the sharp, clearly-defined articulation, the
vivid and varied tones of the gentleman, or even of the London
street-boy, when compared with the coarse, half-formed growls,
as of a company of seals, which he heard round him. That single
fact struck him perhaps more deeply than any; it connected
itself with many of physiological fancies; it was the parent of
many thoughts and plans of his after-life. Here and there he
could distinguish a half sentence. An ol