esced in this appellation, making, however, the slight addition of calling it "New St. Paul's," feeling less aversion to a name taken from the English Cathedral, than from the saint.
The pedestrian, whom we have already mentioned, as pausing to contemplate this edifice, was no other than the gentlemen so frequently named as Mr., or Squire Doolittle He was of a tall, gaunt formation, with sharp features, and a face that expressed formal propriety, mingled with low cunning. Richard approached him, followed by Monsieur Le Quoi and the Major-Domo.
"Good evening, Squire," said Richard, bobbing his head, but without moving his hands from his pockets.
"Good evening. Squire," echoed Hiram, turning his body, in order to turn his head also.
"A cold night, Mr. Doolittle, a cold night, sir."
"Coolish," said Hiram: a tedious spell on't."
"What, looking at our church, ha! it looks well by moonlight; how the tin of the cupola glistens. I warrant you, the dome of the other St. Paul's never shines so in the smoke of London."
"It is a pretty meeting-house to look on," returned Hiram, "and I believe that Monshure Ler Quow and Mr. Penguilliam will allow it."
"Sairtainlee!" exclaimed the complaisant Frenchman, "it ees ver fine."
"I thought the Monshure would say so," observed Hiram. "Them last molasses that we had was excellent good. It isn't likely that you have any more of it on hand?"
"Ah! oui; ees, sair," returned Monsieur Le Quoi, with a slight shrug of his shoulder, and a trifling grimace, "dere is more. I feel ver happi dat you love eet. I hope dat Madame Dooleet' is in good 'ealth."
"Why, so as to be stirring," said Hiram.—
