igion the Saracen was after; so, says he, '_Church_,
indeed! there's the church she's gone to, ma'am,' says he, turning down
a quilted counterpane."

"Are you sure it was not Marseilles, ma'am?" said the doctor.

"Well, whatever it was, '_There's_ the church she is in,' says he,
pulling her out of the bed."

"Out of the bed?" repeated the doctor.

"Out of the bed, sir!"

"Then _her_ church was in the Diocese of _Down_," said the
doctor.

"That's good, docthor--indeed, that's good. 'She was caught in bed,'
says I; and 'It's the diocese of _Down_,' says _you_: 'faith, that's
good. I wish the diocese was your own; for you're funny enough to be a
bishop, docthor, you lay howld of everything."

"That's a great qualification for a mitre, ma'am," said the doctor.

"And the poor young man that has got her is not worth a farthing, I
hear, docthor."

"Then _he_ must be the curate, ma'am; though I don't think it's a
chapel of ease he has got into."

"Oh! what a tongue you have, docthor," said she, laughing; "'faith
you'll kill me."

"That's my profession, ma'am. I am a licentiate of the Royal College;
but, unfortunately for me, my humanity is an overmatch for my science.
Phrenologically speaking, my benevolence is large, and my
destructiveness and acquisitiveness small."

"Ah, there you go off on another tack; and what a funny new thing that
is you talk of!--that free knowledge or crow-knowledge, or whatever
sort of knowledge you call it. And there's one thing I want to ask you
about: there's a bump the ladies have, the gentlemen always laugh at, I
remark."

"That's very rude of them, ma'am," said the doctor drily. "Is it in the
anterior region, or the----"

"Docthor, don't talk queer."

"I'm only speaking scientifically, ma'am."

"Well, I think your scientific discourse is only an excuse for saying
impudent things; I mean the back of their heads."

"I thought so, ma'am."

"They call it--dear me, I forget--something--motive--motive--it's
Latin--but I am no _scholard_, docthor."

"That's manifest, ma'am."

"But a lady is not bound to know Latin, docthor."

"Certainly not, ma'am--nor any other language except that of the eyes."

Now, this was a wicked hit of the doctor's, for Mrs. Gubbins squinted
frightfully; but Mrs. Gubbins did not know that, so she went on.

"The bump I mean, docthor, is motive something--motive--motive--I have
it!--motive-_ness_."

"Now, I know what you mean," said the doctor; "