gain.

The mistake our advanced Liberals make is that of flinging much too
large pieces of bread at a time, and flinging them at their hen,
instead of a little way off her. Of course the hen is fluttered
and driven away. Sometimes, too, they do not sufficiently
distinguish between bread and stones.

As a general rule, the common people treat the priests
respectfully, but once I heard several attacking one warmly on the
score of eternal punishment. "Sara," said one, "per cento anni,
per cinque cento, per mille o forse per dieci mille anni, ma non
sara eterna; perche il Dio e un uomo forte--grande, generoso, di
buon cuore." {16} An Italian told me once that if ever I came upon
a priest whom I wanted to tease, I was to ask him if he knew a
place called La Torre Pellice. I have never yet had the chance of
doing this; for, though I am fairly quick at seeing whether I am
likely to get on with a priest or no, I find the priest is
generally fairly quick too; and I am no sooner in a diligence or
railway carriage with an unsympathetic priest, than he curls
himself round into a moral ball and prays horribly--bristling out
with collects all over like a cross-grained spiritual hedgehog.
Partly, therefore, from having no wish to go out of my way to make
myself obnoxious, and partly through the opposite party being
determined that I shall not get the chance, the question about La
Torre Pellice has never come off, and I do not know what a priest
would say if the subject were introduced,--but I did get a talking
about La Torre Pellice all the same.

I was going from Turin to Pinerolo, and found myself seated