above us! after that! Answer me this: Do
ye believe in the creed?" and he goes
through the articles seriatim, and questions
arise, " Do you believe this?" "Yes," very
bitingly. " Do you believe that?" " Yes,"
still more bitingly and snappishly; until
they arrived at a later period, when she
folds her arms fiercely, and putting her
head back, says, "Never, never!" " O,
then, hear her, hear her!"

But here are the sounds of music, and
we turn to another part, where a small
revivalist meeting is going on, and half a
dozen men and women " conduct the
service." A young lad of about sixteen is
pouring out frantic and almost profane
appeals to the bystanders to come and be
converted, giving forth his invitation with
an extraordinary hysterical fluency, which
his friends obviously imagine to be
supernatural. Another group hotly discusses
temperance and the Maine Liquor Law.
Another group listens open-mouthed to an
intelligent-looking, quiet, calm, young man,
in a conversational and gentlemanly way
impressing the folly and futility of
Christianity on some very weak defenders of
that citadel. Everywhere the defenders
are so carried away by their indignation
that they put forward scarcely the strongest
arguments.

Few would believe that in decent, moral
England, such a Sunday evening's
entertainment should be provided. It would
almost appear as if the whole were
organised; and that the Italian gentleman, the
Irish-American gentleman, with the quiet,
reasoning young man, were part of a
propaganda, whose aim it is to educate the
British working-man up to a free-and-easy
standard of infidelity.

It has this look, from there being a
steady attendance of the same " preachers"
at the same place, Sunday after Sunday,
urging the same topics, the same miserable
quibbles about priests, parsons, and
the Old and New Testaments. It is
impossible not to note a pestilent " Goddess-of-Reason"
tone among these loungers, though
the worship of that deity has apparently
led them to the enjoyment of very seedy
clothing, limited shaving, and destitution
of linen. Whether the propagation of
such doctrines comes within the purview of
the common law, or of the police, it is
hard to say; but it cannot be beneficial
that so pleasant a spot on the edge of
the Thames, and the balmy summer
evenings, should be contaminated by such
unhealthy fumes. Many a decent workman,
wandering about from group to group,
may catch up some rotten lath of an
argument, which some one, of more reading
and reason, could snap across his knee,
may take it home with him, reflect over it,
and have his poor honest wits troubled with
the shallowest doubts. The whole is worth
the attention of those whose business it is
to look after such matters.

IN THAT STATE OF LIFE.

CHAPTER VIII.

THREE days went by. Maud saw Lowndes
Cartaret but seldom: he was out shooting
all day; when they did meet, however, he
never failed to stare at her in a way which
made Maud very angry.

Her relations with the establishment, in
general, remained pretty much as they were
on the first day. Mrs. Cartaret had her new
maid to spend the greater part of the day
with her: Maud even worked in her
mistress's room, for the old lady liked a
companion of some sort, and her prime minister
had never been very available in this
capacity. Now, with company in the
house, her important avocations obliged
Mrs. Rouse to cede to Maud almost entirely
the duties of personal attendance on her
mistress. Her demeanour towards the new
comer was suspicious and antagonistic as
ever; Mr. Dapper's, oily and seductive; the
other servants avoiding the " stuck- up
thing " as much as possible. This isolation
was, perhaps, not enviable, and yet, could
it have been more complete, she would have
been glad. As it was, strange to say, she
found herself getting to endure this life
better than she could have thought possible
at first. The idea of giving it up, of going
to London, and seeking for work in some
other form, which she had seriously
entertained during the first twenty-four hours of
her residence under this roof, presented
itself less and less frequently to her. It
was then that she wrote the letter we
know of to her mother. But, after writing,
the question came, how to send it? The
Salisbury post-mark might lead to detection.
There was no servant in the house
she would trust with it for transmission
elsewhere. Nor had she a single friend in
whom she could confide. But at last an
expedient occurred to her. She enclosed
it to the true Mary Hind at Bristol, with
these words: "Be kind enough, Mary, to
post this letter to Lady Herriesson. You
must not ask any questions. Some day or