I would much rather pay with my purse than my person in this case.
Unfortunately, je n'ai pas de quoi.

_Sunday, July 17th._--To Redcliffe Church with my father and Dall.
What a beautiful old building it is!... What a sermon! Has the
truth, as our Church holds it, no fitter expounders than such a
preacher? Are these its stays, props, and pillars--teachers to
guide, enlighten, and instruct people as cultivated and intelligent
as the people of this country on the most momentous of all
subjects? Are these the sort of adversaries to oppose to men like
Channing? As for not going to church because of bad or foolish
sermons, that is quite another matter, though I not unfrequently
hear that reason assigned for staying away. One goes to church to
say one's prayers, and not to hear more or less fine discourses;
one goes because it is one's duty, and a delight and comfort, and a
quite distinct duty and delight from that of private prayer. A good
sermon, Heaven knows, is a rare blessing to be thankful for, but if
one went to church only in the expectation of that blessing, one
might stay away most Sundays in the year.

[My youthful scorn of "poor preaching" reminds me of what I once heard
Edward Everett say, who, before becoming his country's "Minister," in
the diplomatic sense of the word, had been a powerful and eloquent
Unitarian preacher: "I hear a good deal of criticism upon sermons which
are supposed to be religious or moral exhortations, not intellectual
exercises. I dare say many sermons are not _first rate_, but moderate
good preaching is not a bad thing, and _pretty poor preaching_ is better
than most men's practice."]

_Monday, July 18th._--The theater was crowded to-night, which
delighted me. It is pleasant to see malicious and evil actions
produce such a result. I was very nervous and excited, and nearly
went into hysterics over one small incident of the evening. At the
close of the first separation scene--the play was "Venice
Preserved"--when Jaffier is carried out by the nape of the neck by
Pierre, and Belvidera _extracted_ on the other side in the arms
(and iron ones they were) of Bedamar, the audience of course were
affected, harrowed, overcome by the poignant pathos of the
situation. Charles looked woebegone. I called upon him in tones of
the most piercing anguish (an ago