Numberless were the instances which our verger heard in his kitchen of
the supernatural skill of this cunning man; and whilst Mr. Hill ate his
snack with his wonted gravity, he revolved great designs in his secret
soul. Mrs. Hill was surprised, several times during dinner, to see her
consort put down his knife and fork, and meditate. "Gracious me, Mr.
Hill! what can have happened to you this day? What can you be thinking
of, Mr. Hill, that can make you forget what you have upon your plate?"
"Mrs. Hill," replied the thoughtful verger, "our grandmother Eve had too
much curiosity; and we all know it did not lead to good. What I am
thinking of will be known to you in due time, but not now, Mrs. Hill;
therefore, pray, no questions, or teasing, or pumping. What I think, I
think; what I say, I say; what I know, I know; and that is enough for you
to know at present: only this, Phoebe, you did very well not to put on
the Limerick gloves, child. What I know, I know. Things will turn out
just as I said from the first. What I say, I say; and what I think, I
think; and this is enough for you to know at present."
Having finished dinner with this solemn speech, Mr. Hill settled himself
in his arm-chair, to take his after-dinner's nap: and he dreamed of
blowing up cathedrals, and of oak bark floating upon the waters; and the
cathedral was, he thought, blown up by a man dressed in a pair of woman's
Limerick gloves, and the oak bark turned into mutton steaks, after which
his great dog Jowler was swimming; when, all on a sudden, as he was going
to beat Jowler for eating the bark transformed into mutton steaks, Jowler
became Bampfylde the Second, king of the gipsies; and putting a horse-
whip with a silver handle into Hill's hand, commanded him three times, in
a voice as loud as the town-crier's, to have O'Neill whipped through the
market-place of Hereford: but just as he was going to the window to see
this whipping, his wig fell off, and he awoke.
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