o say, it may be ten
stands of ale extraordinary, besides a reasonable sale of wine for a
country corner. Heaven make us thankful, and keep all good Protestants
from Plot and Popery."

"I can easily conceive, my friend," said Julian, "that curiosity is
a passion which runs naturally to the alehouse; and that anger,
and jealousy, and fear, are all of them thirsty passions, and great
consumers of home-brewed. But I am a perfect stranger in these parts;
and I would willingly learn, from a sensible man like you, a little
of this same Plot, of which men speak so much, and appear to know so
little."

"Learn a little of it?--Why, it is the most horrible--the most damnable,
bloodthirsty beast of a Plot--But hold, hold, my good master; I hope,
in the first place, you believe there is a Plot; for, otherwise,
the Justice must have a word with you, as sure as my name is John
Whitecraft."

"It shall not need," said Peveril; "for I assure you, mine host, I
believe in the Plot as freely and fully as a man can believe in anything
he cannot understand."

"God forbid that anybody should pretend to understand it," said the
implicit constable; "for his worship the Justice says it is a mile
beyond him; and he be as deep as most of them. But men may believe,
though they do not understand; and that is what the Romanists say
themselves. But this I am sure of, it makes a rare stirring time for
justices, and witnesses, and constables.--So here's to your health
again, gentlemen, in a cup of neat canary."

"Come, come, John Whitecraft," said the wife, "do not you demean
yourself by naming witnesses along with justices and constables. All the
world knows how they come by their money."

"Ay, but all the world knows that they _do_ come by it, dame; and that
is a great comfort. They rustle in their canonical silks, and swagger
in their buff and scarlet, who but they?--Ay, ay, the cursed fox
thrives--and not so cursed neither. Is there not Doctor Titus Oates, the
saviour of the nation--does he not live at Whitehall, and eat off plate,
and have a pension of thousands a year, for what I know? and is he not
to be Bishop of Litchfield, so soon as Dr. Doddrum dies?"

"Then I hope Dr. Doddrum's reverence will live these twenty years; and I
dare say I am the first that ever wished such a wish," said the hostess.
"I do not understand these doings, not I; and if a hundred Jesuits came
to hold a consult at my house, as they did at the White Horse Tavern