easy than just to omit a few prayers and other old-fashioned forms, and shorten the lessons, it would be a shame not to try it, and when it is done, every body will be pleased, and the Church establishment will be greatly strengthened."
"Well," said I, "whatever effect such a measure might have on the Establishment, I am confident it would deeply injure the Church. And as to what you say about relieving a grievance, I wish you to consider this argument which I met with in a book of Sermons that was lent to me a few weeks ago. 'If people were weary merely of the length of the Service, they would be at least attentive at the beginning, and their weariness would come on by degrees; but we know it is not so. Of the two, they are often more tired in the early part of the Service than in the later.' I do not remember the exact words, but such is the meaning."
"Yes," he said, "that is because they care more about the sermon than they do about the Prayers and Lessons."
"Very well," I replied, "you have supplied me with a strong argument against your own views. For by whose opinion do you think the Church ought to be chiefly guided, that of the few (if they be few) who delight in the Prayers and Lessons, or that of the many (if they be many) who are weary of them even from the beginning?"
"Why," he replied, "I thought it was now almost universally agreed, that What most people think, is True—What most people determine, is Just—What most people like, is Good. Mr. Tiptop called these 'Three Grand Parliament Principles,' and we all admired them."
"But, Will," I said, "suppose it should happen that 'What most people like' might be to get rid of the restraints of Religion altogether, I reckon you would not consider this a safe and good principle to be guided by; and yet you may be sure that this, and nothing less than this, lies at the root of all these pretended Church Reforms. And as to the principal contriver of these deceits, the Great Reformer himself, I do not choose to mention his name to you, but I think you will find him spoken of, and his character awfully set forth, in the eighth chapter of St. John, and, if I recollect right, the 44th verse.
"But really now, Will," I continued, "will you be kind
