At eleven o’clock, the curate arrived, a new one, (for the vicar, of course, is absent); then I went to church, and was usher’d into a pew, alone.

 Never did I see a more decent congregation; in manners, looks, and dress, they are 60 years behind the English; whilst they retain their tongue, they cannot emigrate, and must keep up antient customs.

 […]  Their language is lofty, in sound very like to Greek:―I kept up tolerably in the English Prayer Book.―There was a singing gallery, of good performance; and the first part of the Litany was sung!  The Communion Service was read at the altar, where has been lately erected an handsome screen.―The sermon was long; so was the service; for the language is slow, and rumbles, and jolts like a waggon in deep ruts: The exhortation to attend the Sacrament was read; the sermon was deem’d a good one.

 After service they renew’d the singing; but no one stirr’d;―till I was beckon’d to make my triumphal exit.  These are proper manners; and not for people to hussle out before their betters.