At least two of Episcopals

"Ain't that a fine description of bees a-workin'? 'The singing masons building roofs of gold!' Puts 'em right before yu', and is poetry without bein' foolish. His Holiness and his Grace. Well, they could not hire me for either o' those positions. How many religions are there?" "All over the earth?" "Yu' can begin with ourselves. Right hyeh at home I know there's Romanists, and Episcopals--" "Two kinds!" I put in. "At least two of Episcopals." "That's three. Then Methodists and Baptists, and--" "Three Methodists!" "Well, you do the countin'." I accordingly did it, feeling my revolving memory slip cogs all the way round. "Anyhow, there are safely fifteen." "Fifteen." He held this fact a moment. "And they don't worship a whole heap o' different gods like the ancients did?" "Oh, no!" "It's just the same one?" "The same one." The Virginian folded his hands over the horn of his saddle, and leaned forward upon them in contemplation of the wide, beautiful landscape. "One God and fifteen religions," was his reflection. "That's a right smart of religions for just one God." This way of reducing it was, if obvious to him, so novel to me that my laugh evidently struck him as a louder and livelier comment than was required. He turned on me as if I had somehow perverted the spirit of his words.