[98]
———Excuse me, said the sacristan———'twas to touch the bones of Saint Germain the builder of the abby—And what did she get by it? said my uncle Toby———What does any woman get by it? said my father—Martyrdome; replied the young Benedictine, making a bow down to the ground, and uttering the word with so humble, but decisive a cadence, it disarmed my father for a moment. 'Tis supposed, continued the Benedictine, that St. Maxima has lain in this tomb four hundred years, and two hundred before her canonization———'Tis but a slow rise, brother Toby, quoth my father, in this self same army of martyrs.—A desperate slow one, an' please your honour, said Trim, unless one could purchase———I should rather sell out en-tirely,
