left,--and I do assure you, that money is not to be got, even in the
way of legacy, without anxiety,--Mrs. Pringle and I consulted
together, and resolved, that it was our first duty, as a token of
our gratitude to the Giver of all Good, to make our first outlay to
the poor. So, without saying a word either to Rachel, or to Andrew
Pringle, my son, knowing that there was a daily worship in the
Church of England, we slipped out of the house by ourselves, and,
hiring a hackney conveyance, told the driver thereof to drive us to
the high church of St. Paul's. This was out of no respect to the
pomp and pride of prelacy, but to Him before whom both pope and
presbyter are equal, as they are seen through the merits of Christ
Jesus. We had taken a gold guinea in our hand, but there was no
broad at the door; and, instead of a venerable elder, lending
sanctity to his office by reason of his age, such as we see in the
effectual institutions of our own national church--the door was kept
by a young man, much more like a writer's whipper-snapper-clerk,
than one qualified to fill that station, which good King David would
have preferred to dwelling in tents of sin. However, we were not
come to spy the nakedness of the land, so we went up the outside
stairs, and I asked at him for the plate; "Plate!" says he; "why,
it's on the altar!" I should have known this--the custom of old
being to lay the offerings on the altar, but I had forgot; such is
the force, you see, of habit, that the Church of England is not so
well reformed and purged as ours is from the abominations of the
leaven of idolatry. We were then stepping forward, when he said to
me, as sharply as if I was going to take an advantage, "You must pay
here." "Very well, wherever it is customary," said I, in a meek
manner, and gave him the guinea. Mrs. Pringle did the same. "I
cannot give you change," cried he, with as little decorum as if we
had been paying at a playhouse. "It makes no odds," said I; "keep