Oh dear, dear convarted men, though they won't larf themselves, make others larf the worst kind, sometimes; don't they?
"I do believe, on my soul, if religion was altogether left to the voluntary in this world, it would die a nateral death; not that _men wouldn't support it_, but because it would be supported _under false pretences_.

Truth can't be long upheld by falsehood.

Hypocrisy would change its features, and intolerance its name; and religion would soon degenerate into a cold, intriguing, onprincipled, marciless superstition, that's a fact.
"Yes, on the whole, I rather like these plain, decent, onpretendin', country churches here, although t'other ones remind me of old times, when I was an ontamed one too.

Yes, I like an English church; but as for Minister pretendin' for to come for to go for to preach agin that beautiful long-haired young rebel, Squire Absalom, for 'stealin' the hearts of the people,' why it's rather takin' the rag off the bush, ain't it?
"Tell you what, Squire; there ain't a man in their whole church here, from Lord Canter Berry that preaches afore the Queen, to Parson Homily that preached afore us, nor never was, nor never will be equal to Old Minister hisself for 'stealin' the hearts of the people.'".