I said nothing,
but directed my eyes to the clergyman, who uttered a short and
expressive cough; the sexton looked at him for a moment, and then,
bowing his head, closed the door--in a moment more the music
ceased. I took up a prayer-book, on which was engraved an earl's
coronet. The clergyman uttered, "I will arise, and go to my
father." England's sublime liturgy had commenced.
Oh, what feelings came over me on finding myself again in an
edifice devoted to the religion of my country! I had not been in
such a place I cannot tell for how long--certainly not for years;
and now I had found my way there again, it appeared as if I had
fallen asleep in the pew of the old church of pretty D---. I had
occasionally done so when a child, and had suddenly woke up. Yes,
surely I had been asleep and had woke up; but no! alas, no! I had
not been asleep--at least not in the old church--if I had been
asleep I had been walking in my sleep, struggling, striving,
learning, and unlearning in my sleep. Years had rolled away whilst
I had been asleep--ripe fruit had fallen, green fruit had come on
whilst I had been asleep--how circumstances had altered, and above
all myself, whilst I had been asleep. No, I had not been asleep in
the old church! I was in a pew, it is true, but not the pew of
black leather, in which I sometimes fell asleep in days of yore,
but in a strange pew; and then my companions, they were no longer
those of days of yore.
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