Myself.—­I can easily explain that to you; it is a custom which has become quite natural to me.  I am just arrived from Russia, where I have spent some years.  A Russian invariably takes off his hat whenever he enters beneath a roof, whether it pertain to hut, shop, or palace.  To omit doing so would be considered as a mark of brutality and barbarism, and for the following reason:  in every apartment of a Russian house there is a small picture of the Virgin stuck up in a corner, just below the ceiling—­the hat is taken off out of respect to her.

Quick glances of intelligence were exchanged by the three gentlemen.  I had stumbled upon their shibboleth, and proclaimed myself an Ephraimite, and not of Gilead.  I have no doubt that up to that moment they had considered me as one of themselves—­a member, and perhaps a priest, of their own ancient, grand, and imposing religion, for such it is, I must confess—­an error into which it was natural that they should fall.  What motives could a Protestant have for intruding upon their privacy?  What interest could he take in inspecting the economy of their establishment?  So far, however, from relaxing in their attention after this discovery, their politeness visibly increased, though, perhaps, a scrutinizing observer might have detected a shade of less cordiality in their manner.

Rector.—­Beneath the ceiling in every apartment?  I think I understood you so.  How delightful—­how truly interesting; a picture of the blessed Virgin beneath the ceiling in every apartment of a Russian house!  Truly, this intelligence is as unexpected as it is delightful.  I shall from this moment entertain a much higher opinion of the Russians than hitherto—­most truly an example worthy of imitation.  I wish sincerely that it was our own practice to place an image of the blessed Virgin beneath the ceiling in every corner of our houses.  What say you, our professor of humanity?  What say you to the information so obligingly communicated to us by this excellent gentleman?

Humanity Professor.—­It is, indeed, most delightful, most cheering, I may say; but I confess that I was not altogether unprepared for it.  The adoration of the Blessed Virgin is becoming every day more extended in countries where it has hitherto been unknown or forgotten.  Dr. W-, when he passed through Lisbon, gave me some most interesting details with respect to the labours of the propaganda in India.  Even England, our own beloved country. . . .

My obliging friends showed me all over their “poor house,” it certainly did not appear a very rich one; it was spacious, and rather dilapidated.  The library was small, and possessed nothing remarkable; the view, however, from the roof, over the greater part of Lisbon and the Tagus, was very grand and noble; but I did not visit this place in the hope of seeing busts, or books, or fine prospects,—­I visited this strange old house to converse with its inmates,