She
met her cousin, with her bonnet on, prepared to go out.
"Dear Lady Emily," said she, "let me entreat of you to use your
influence with my mother to persuade her to allow me to go to church."
"In the first place," answered her cousin, "you may know that I have no
influence;--in the second, that Lady Juliana is never to be persuaded
into any thing;--in the third, I really can't suppose you are serious in
thinking it a matter of such vast moment whether or not you go to
church."
"Indeed I do," answered Mary earnestly. "I have been taught to consider
it as such; and----"
"Pshaw! nonsense! these are some of your stiff-necked Presbyterian
notions. I shall really begin to suspect you are a Methodist and yet you
are not at all like one."
"Pray, tell me," said Mary, with a smile, "what are your ideas of
a Methodist?"
"Oh! thank heaven, I know little about them!--almost as little as Dr.
Redgill, who, I verily believe, could scarcely tell the difference
betwixt a Catholic and a Methodist, except that the one dances and
t'other prays. But I am rather inclined to believe it is a sort of a
scowling, black-browed, hard-favoured creature, with its greasy hair
combed straight upon its flat forehead, and that twirls its thumbs, and
turns up its eyes, and speaks through its nose and, in short, is
everything that you are not, except in this matter--of going to church.
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