going to the cathedral."

"The gloves are very good gloves, as far as I see," replied Mr. Hill.
"But no matter now. It is more fitting that we should be in proper time
in our pew, to set an example, as becomes us, than to stand here talking
of gloves and nonsense."

He offered his wife and daughter each an arm, and set out for the
cathedral; but Phoebe was too busy in drawing on her new gloves, and
her mother was too angry at the sight of them, to accept of Mr. Hill's
courtesy: "What I say is always nonsense, I know, Mr. Hill," resumed the
matron: "but I can see as far into a millstone as other folks. Was it
not I that first gave you a hint of what became of the great dog, that
we lost out of our tan-yard last winter? And was it not I who first
took notice to you, Mr. Hill, verger as you are, of the hole under the
foundation of the cathedral? Was it not, I ask you, Mr. Hill?" "But, my
dear Mrs. Hill, what has all this to do with Phoebe's gloves?"

"Are you blind, Mr. Hill? Don't you see that they are Limerick gloves?"

"What of that?" said Mr. Hill; still preserving his composure, as it was
his custom to do as long as he could, when he saw his wife was ruffled.

"What of that, Mr. Hill! why don't you know that Limerick is in Ireland,
Mr. Hill?"

"With all my heart, my dear."

"Yes, and with all your heart, I suppose, Mr, Hill, you would see our
cathedral blown up, some fair day or other, and your own daughter