A Black Glove Needs No Gloves

More souls than one were brought to the truth by the efficacy of that sermon, and vowed within themselves to cherish a holy gratitude towards mister dimesdale throughout the long hereafter. As he came down the pulpit steps, the gray bearded sexton met him holding up a black glove, which the minister recognized as his own. It was found, said the sexton, this morning, on the scaffold where evil doers are set up to public shame. Satan dropped it there. I take it intending a scurrilous jest against your reverence. But indeed, he was blind and foolish as he ever and always is. A pure hand needs no glove to cover it.