his prejudice against our unlucky Irishman; for he had mentioned with
great solemnity at the club which he frequented, the grand affair of
the hole under the foundation of the cathedral; and his suspicions that
there was a design to blow it up. Several of the club had laughed at
this idea; others, who supposed that Mr. O'Neill was a Roman Catholic,
and who had a confused notion that a Roman Catholic _must_ be a very
wicked, dangerous being, thought that there might be a great deal in the
verger's suggestions; and observed that a very watchful eye ought to be
kept upon this Irish glover, who had come to settle at Hereford nobody
knew why, and who seemed to have money at command nobody knew how.

The news of this ball sounded to Mr. Hill's prejudiced imagination like
the news of a conspiracy. Ay! ay! thought he; the Irishman is cunning
enough! But we shall be too many for him: he wants to throw all the good
sober folks of Hereford off their guard, by feasting, and dancing, and
carousing, I take it; and so to perpetrate his evil designs when it is
least suspected; but we shall be prepared for him, fools as he takes us
plain Englishmen to be, I warrant.

In consequence of these most shrewd cogitations, our verger silenced his
wife with a peremptory nod, when she came to persuade him to let Phoebe
put on the Limerick gloves, and go to the ball. "To this ball she shall
not go; and I charge her not to put on those Limerick gloves, as she
values my blessing," said Mr. Hill. "Please to tell her so, Mrs. Hill,
and trust to my judgment and discretion in all things, Mrs. Hill.
Strange work may be in Hereford yet: but I'll say no more; I must go and
consult with knowing men, who are of my opinion."

He sallied forth, and Mrs. Hill was left in a state which only those
who are troubled with the disease of excessive curiosity can rightly