He replied very courteously, ‘I have asked permission to enter here to gratify my curiosity as a stranger.
I hope it is no offence.’
‘Take off your hat!’
rejoined the rude man. ‘If you don't, I'll take it off for you.’
leaned on his cane, looked him full in the face, and answered very coolly, ‘If thou dost, I hope thou wilt send it to my lodgings; for I shall have need of it this afternoon.
I lodge at No. 35, Lower Crescent
The place designated was about a mile from the Cathedral
The man stared at him, as if puzzled to decide whether he were talking to an insane person, or not. When the imperturbable Quaker
had seen all he cared to see, he deliberately walked away.
At Westminster Abbey
he paid the customary fee of two shillings sixpence for admission.
The doorkeeper followed him, saying, ‘You must uncover yourself, sir.’
exclaimed the Friend, with an affectation of ignorant simplicity.
‘What dost thou mean?
Must I take off my coat?’
responded the man, smiling.
I mean your hat.’
‘And what should I take off my hat for?’
‘Because you are in a church, sir,’ answered the door-keeper.