e to have
been dictated by the same masters, leaving to each writer that peculiar
manner of expressing himself, which the poverty of our language forces
me to call their style. When the _Guardian_ changed his title, and
professed to engage in faction, I was sure the word was given, that
grand preparations were making against next sessions; that all
advantages would be taken of the little dissensions reported to be among
those in power; and that the _Guardian_ would soon be seconded by some
other piqueerers[4] from the same camp. But I will confess, my
suspicions did not carry me so far as to conjecture that this venerable
champion would be in such mighty haste to come into the field, and serve
in the quality of an _enfant perdu_,[5] armed only with a pocket pistol,
before his great blunderbuss could be got ready, his old rusty
breastplate scoured, and his cracked headpiece mended.

[Footnote 3: Steele.]

[Footnote 4: Piqueerer = pickeerer (modern) = a marauder, a skirmisher
in advance of an army. From French _picorer_ = to maraud. [T.S.]]

[Footnote 5: _Enfant perdu_, one of the advanced guard; or, as
Hawkesworth notes it, "one of the forlorn hope." [T.S.]]

I was debating with myself, whether this hint of producing a small
pamphlet to give notice of a large folio, was not borrowed from the
ceremonial in Spanish romances, where a dwarf is sent out upon the
battlements to signify to all passengers, what a mighty giant there is
in the castle; or whether the Bishop copied this proceeding from the
_fanfarronade_ of Monsieur Boufflers, when the Earl of Portland and that
general had an interview. Several men were appointed at certain periods
to ride in great haste toward the English camp, and cry out,
_Monseigneur vient, Monseigneur vient:_ Then, small parties advanced
with the same speed and the same cry, and this foppery held for many
hours, until the mareschal himself arrived. So here, the Bishop (as we
find by his dedication to Mr. Churchill the bookseller) has for a long
time sent warning of his arrival by advertisements in _Gazettes_, and
now his Introduction advances to tell us again, _Monseigneur vient:_ In
the mean time, we must gape and wait and gaze the Lord knows how long,
and keep our spirits in some reasonable agitation, until his Lordship's
real self shall think fit to appear in the habit of a folio.

I have seen the same sort of management at a puppet-show. Some puppets
of little or no consequence appeare