"I see no church here," rejoined the Quaker. "Perhaps thou meanest the house where the church assembles. I suppose thou art aware that it is the people, not the building, that constitutes a church?"
The idea seemed new to the man, but he merely repeated, "You must take off your hat, sir."
But the Friend again inquired, "What for? On account of these images?
Thou knowest Scripture commands us not to worship graven images."
The man persisted in saying that no person could be permitted to pass through the church without uncovering his head. "Well friend," rejoined Isaac, "I have some conscientious scruples on that subject; so give me back my money, and I will go out."
The reverential habits of the door-keeper were not quite strong enough to compel him to that sacrifice; and he walked away, without saying anything more on the subject.
When Friend Hopper visited the House of Lords, he asked the sergeant-at-arms if he might sit upon the throne. He replied, "No, sir. No one but his majesty sits there."
"Wherein does his majesty differ from other men?" inquired he. "If his head were cut off, wouldn't he die?"
"Certainly he would," replied the officer.
"So would an American," rejoined Friend Hopper. As he spoke, he stepped up to the gilded railing that surrounded the throne, and tried to open the gate. The officer told him it was locked. "Well won't the same key that locked it unlock it?" inquired he. "Is this the key hanging here?"
Being informed that it was, he took it down and unlocked the gate. He removed the satin covering from the throne, carefully dusted the railing with his handkerchief, before he hung the satin over it, and then seated himself in the royal chair. "Well," said he, "do I look anything like his majesty?"