“Oh! he’s yo’r text, is he?”
“He put it i’ this way. Th’ Church o’ Christ is an army—the Church militant, he called it. Th’ king, God bless him, is th’ head o’ th’ Church, jus’ same as he’s th’ head o’ th’ army. Th’ Archbishops is commanders–in–chief, th’ Bishops is generals, the Rectors an’ Vicars is colonels an’ captains, an’ Curates is th’ lieutenants.”
“And what of corporals and sergeants?” I asked.
“Th’ vicar’s warden, to be sure,” said Jack promptly, “an’ just yo’ see if aw dunnot live to be vicar’s warden afore aw dee o’ old age: an’ if yo’ want to speer further into it, th’ Collect an’ th’ Liturgy is th’ Orders o’ th’ day an’ the surplice an’ hood’s nobbud a uniform. So theer!”
And Jack looked at me triumphantly.
“An’ wheer do th’ Dissenters come in then?” I asked.
“Well aw reckon you’re like these volunteers ’at come up when folk wer’ fleyed o’ Boney comin’. An’ its th’ same way i’ religion. Folk turn Methodies when they’re in a scare about their souls; but for reg’lar defence i’ ordinary times, th’ Church, as by law established, is enough to ward off th’ enemy o’ mankind.”
“And what does Faith say to all this?” I asked.
“Faith’s a very sensible lass, an’ wi’ a very proper notion o’ discipline,” replied Jack. “I tried her t’other day wi’ th’ text ‘wives, submit yourselves unto your own husbands as unto the Lord. For the husband is the head of the wife, even as Christ is the head of the Church.’”
“Well?” I asked.