“He tried that game,” said I, “and the parish said—­’Pooh, pooh,’ and, for the most part, went over to the Dissenters.”

“Very true,” said the man in black, taking a sip at his glass, “but why were the Dissenters allowed to preach? why were they not beaten on the lips till they spat out blood, with a dislodged tooth or two?  Why, but because the authority of the Church of England has, by its own fault, become so circumscribed that Mr. Platitude was not able to send a host of beadles and sbirri to their chapel to bring them to reason, on which account Mr. Platitude is very properly ashamed of his Church, and is thinking of uniting himself with one which possesses more vigour and authority.”

“It may have vigour and authority,” said I, “in foreign lands, but in these kingdoms the day for practising its atrocities is gone by.  It is at present almost below contempt, and is obliged to sue for grace in forma pauperis.”

“Very true,” said the man in black, “but let it once obtain emancipation, and it will cast its slough, put on its fine clothes, and make converts by thousands.  ‘What a fine Church,’ they’ll say; ’with what authority it speaks—­no doubts, no hesitation, no sticking at trifles.’  What a contrast to the sleepy English Church! they’ll go over to it by millions, till it preponderates here over every other, when it will of course be voted the dominant one; 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.”