et me recover my breath which your unspeakable friend here put
out by calling me a 'High Churchman,' and then I'll begin. It begins
eighty years ago."

So Monty began the great story of the Catholic movement in the
Church of England. He told us of Keble and Pusey; he made heroes for
us of Father Mackonochie dying amongst his dogs in the Scotch snows,
and of Father Stanton, whose coffin was drawn through London on a
barrow. He knew how to capture the interest and sympathy of boy
minds. At the end of his stories about the heroes and martyrs of the
Catholic movement, though we hadn't grasped the theology of it, yet
we knew we were on the side of Keble and Pusey, Mackonochie and
Stanton. We would have liked to be sent to prison for wearing
vestments.

"But hang the vestments!" cried Monty in his vigorous way. "Hang the
cottas, the candles, and the incense! What the Catholic movement
really meant was the recovery for our Church of England--God bless
her--of the old exalted ideas of the Mass and of the great practice
of private confession. 'What we want,' said the Catholic movement,
'is the faith of St. Augustine of Canterbury, and of St. Aidan of
the North; the faith of the saints who built the Church of England,
and not the faith of Queen Elizabeth, nor even of the Pope of
Rome.'"

We thought this very fine, and Doe, who generally carried on these
conversations while I was silent, inquired what exactly this faith
might be, which was neither Protestantism nor Romanism.

"Rehearse the articles of my belief, eh?" laughed Monty. "Well, I
believe in the Mass, and I believe in confession, and I believe that
where you've those, you've everything else."

"And what's the outstanding fact of the war?" asked Doe.

"The outstanding fact of my experience at least, Gazelle, has been
the astonishing loyalty to his chaplains and his church of that
awful phenomenon, the young High Church fop, the ecclesiastical
youth. He has known what his chaplains are for, and what they can
give him; he hasn't needed to be looked up and persuaded to do his
religious duties, but has rather looked up his chaplains and
persuaded them to do theirs--confound his impudence! He has got up
early and walked a mile for his Mass. His faith, for all its
foppery, has stood four-square."

Monty started to relight his pipe, forgetting again in his
enthusiasm all routine orders. He tossed the match away, and added:

"Yes: and there's another whose religion is