their own flocks—­let them be found more frequently where the Roman Catholic priest always is—­at the sick-bed—­in the house of mourning, of death, and of sin—­let them abandon the unbecoming pursuits of an ungodly ambition—­cast from them the crooked and dishonest manoeuvres of political negotiation and intrigue—­let them live more humbly, and more in accordance with the gospel which they preach—­let them not set their hearts upon the church merely because it is a wealthy corporation, calculated rather to gratify their own worldly ambition or cupidity, than the spiritual exigencies of their own flocks—­let them not draw their revenues from the pockets of a poor people who disclaim their faith, whilst they denounce and revile that faith as a thing not to be tolerated.  Let them do this, sir—­free Protestantism from the golden shackles which make it the slave of Mammon, that it may be able to work—­do this, and depend upon it, that it will then flourish as it ought; but, in my humble opinion, until such a reform first takes place with ourselves, it is idle to expect that Roman Catholics will come over to us, unless, indeed, a few from sordid and dishonest motives—­and these we were better without.  I think, therefore, that the present Reformation Society is unseasonable and ill-advised, nor do I hesitate to predict that the event will prove it so.  In conclusion, sir, I am sorry to say, that I’ve seldom seen one of those very zealous clergymen who would not rather convert one individual from Popery than ten from sin.”

“Why, Clement, you are a liberal!”

“I trust, sir, I am a Christian.  As for liberalism, as it is generally understood, no man scorns the cant of it more than I do.  But I cannot think that a Roman Catholic man sincerely worshipping God—­even with, many obvious errors in his forms, or, with what we consider absurdities in his very creed—­I cannot think, I say, that such a man, worshipping the Almighty according to his knowledge, will be damned.  To think so is precisely the doctrine of exclusive salvation, with which we charge Popery itself.”

Mr. Lucre’s face, during the enunciation of these sentiments, glowed like a furnace thrice heated—­he turned up his eyes—­groaned aloud—­struck the arm of his chair with his open hand—­then commenced fanning his breast, as if the act were necessary to cool that evangelical indignation, in which there is said to be no sin.

“Clement,” said he, “this—­this”—­here he kept fanning down his choler for half a minute—­“this is—­astonishing—­awful—­monstrous—­monstrous doctrine to come from the lips of a clergyman—­man”—­another fanning—­“of the Established Church; but what is still worse, from—­from—­the lips of my curate! my curate!  I’ll trouble you to touch the bell—­thank you, sir.  But, Mr. Clement, the circumstance of giving utterance to such opinions, so abruptly, as if you were merely stating some common-place fact—­without evincing the slightest consideration for me—­without