carelessness of opinion, and an ignorance of it, and, springing from
that, a lack of reserve which occasionally approaches the shocking. Be
this as it may, here it is possible for man to envisage man, each as he
really is and can be discerned to be.

In England it is not so. Honour is an artificial, manufactured thing,
depending upon accepted, volunteered relationships. What is due from me
to my lord differs from that which his lordship owes to me: so in any
traffic between me and my valet, or my valet and the kitchen-boy. So
also it is with Religion. The Englishman dare not even strip before his
God, but will bear his garter or his worsted-braid, his cocked or
cockaded hat, his sword or his dung-fork up to the very sanctuary rails--
lest, forsooth, by leaving them at home he should either seem so poor
as to be without them, or so rich as to be able to discard them. But
here, what a difference! Not only is man naked before God, but God
stands naked before man. The church is their common ground; the church
is their inn, and the blessed table their market ordinary. At this
board, God and man, man and the saints, meet as friends. The sweetest
intercourse possible on earth is not denied them. They may be gossips,
God and man; they may be lovers, bosom friends. Is this not a hopeful
estate for the tried and erring, naturally affectionate soul? I trow
that it is.

And as with Honour, as with Religion, so with that child of the pair, so
with Love. Boy and maid, man and woman, in this country stand as
children hand in hand before their parent, who is God. Hand in hand, in
seemly innocence, naked, without shame, or underthought or afterthought,
they stray about the flowery meads. Their hearts are by chance
enkindled, each burns, fire seeks the embrace of fire; they touch, they
mingle, they soar together. Wedded love, which neither soars nor leaps