the honor of his poor Nation a little.

Apart from Official Anson, the Spanish War fell mainly, we may say,
into the hands of--of Mr. Jenkins himself, and such Friends of his,
at Wapping, Bristol and the Seaports, as might be disposed to go
privateering. In which course, after some crosses at first, and great
complaints of losses to Spanish Privateers, Wapping and Bristol did at
length eminently get the upper hand; and thus carried on this Spanish
War (or Spanish-French, Spain and France having got into one boat), for
long years coming; in an entirely inarticulate, but by no means quite
ineffectual manner,--indeed, to the ultimate clearance of the Seas from
both French and Spaniard, within the next twenty years. Readers shall
take this little Excerpt, dated Three Years hence, and set it twinkling
in the night of their imaginations:--

BRISTOL, MONDAY, 21st (10th) SEPTEMBER, 1744.... "Nothing is to be seen
here but rejoicings for the number of French prizes brought into this
port. Our Sailors are in high spirits, and full of money; and while on
shore, spend their whole time in carousing, visiting their mistresses,
going to plays, serenading, &c., dressed out with laced hats, tossels
(SIC), swords with sword-knots, and every other way of spending their
money." [Extract of a Letter from Bristol, in _Gentleman's Magazine,_
xiv. 504.]

Carthagena, Walpole, Viners: here are Sorrows for a Britannic
Majesty;--and these are nothing like all. But poor readers should
have some respite; brief breathing-time, were it only to use their
pocket-handkerchiefs, and summon new courage!

Chapter XIII. -- SMALL-WAR: FIRST EMERGENCE OF ZIETHEN THE HUSSAR
GENERAL INTO NOTICE.

After Brieg, Friedrich undertook nothing military, except strict
vigilance of Neipperg, for a couple of months or more. Military,
especially offensive operations, are not the methods just now. Rest on
your oars; see how this seething Ocean of European Politics, and Peace
or War, will settle itself into currents, into set winds; by which
of them a man may steer, who happens to have a fixed port in view.
Neipperg, too, is glad to be quiescent; "my Infantry hopelessly
inferior," he writes to head-quarters: "Could not one hire 10,000
Saxons, think you,"--or do several other chimerical things, for help?
Except with his Pandour people, working what mischief they can, Neipperg
does nothing. But this Hungarian rabble is extensively industrious,
scouring the country