what you call your facts?"

"Sir, that is a secret," replied our wise man, "which I shall trust to
you alone;" and he whispered into Mr. Marshal's ear that, his information
came from Bampfylde the Second, king of the gipsies.

Mr. Marshal instantly burst into laughter; then composing himself, said:
"My good sir, I am really glad that you have proceeded no farther in this
business; and that no one in Hereford, beside myself, knows that you were
on the point of swearing examinations against a man on the evidence of
Bampfylde the Second, king of the gipsies. My dear sir, it would be a
standing joke against you to the end of your days. A grave man like Mr.
Hill! and a verger too! Why you would be the laughing-stock of
Hereford!"

Now Mr. Marshal well knew the character of the man to whom he was
talking, who, above all things on earth, dreaded to be laughed at. Mr.
Hill coloured all over his face, and, pushing back his wig by way of
settling it, showed that he blushed not only all over his face, but all
over his head.

"Why, Mr. Marshal, sir," said he, "as to my being laughed at, it is what
I did not look for, being, as there are, some men in Hereford to whom I
have mentioned that hole in the cathedral, who have thought it no
laughing matter, and who have been precisely of my own opinion
thereupon."

"But did you tell these gentlemen that you had been consulting the king
of the gipsies?"