"God forbid that I should countenance any of their idolatrous rites."
"Their music, however, is excellent, and has a grandeur suited to the worship of God. You lose much in not hearing it, and may, at least, let me amuse myself by singing a Popish hymn."
"You may amuse yourself by turning Papist in time. What begins in jest often ends in earnest; and yours, my lady, will not be the first soul that has been caught by such gear as the sweet sounds and glittering shows of idolatry."
"But," said Lady Mabel, coolly, with a provoking insensibility to her danger, "there are, not only in Latin, but in Spanish and Portuguese, many of these hymns to the Holy Virgin—for, doubtless, she was a holy virgin—exquisitely happy, both in words and music. A devout nation has poured its heart into them."
"They are all idolatrous, every one of them. There is not a word of authority for the worship of her in Scripture, and the texts of God's book are our only safe guide."
Lady Mabel, while fanning a fire that never went out, was gazing around on the landscape. Suddenly she said: "You are a great stickler, Moodie, for the words of Scripture, yet these idolatrous people often stick to it more closely than you do."
"I will trouble you, my lady, to name an instance," Moodie answered, in a defiant tone.
"Do you see those men in that field, with three yoke of oxen going round and round on one spot?"
"I see them. But what of them?"
"While you and other heretic Scots are racking your brains to devise how to thresh corn by machines, these pious people, in simple obedience to the injunction, 'Muzzle not the ox that treadeth out the corn,' are treading out their corn with unmuzzled oxen. What think you of that, Mr. Stick-to-the-text?"