."

"Indeed, Parson Harry," says he; "and are you going to take out a
diploma: and cure your fellow-students of the--"

"Of the gout," says Harry, interrupting him, and looking him hard in the
face; "I know a good deal about the gout."

"I hope you may never have it. 'Tis an infernal disease," says my lord,
"and its twinges are diabolical. Ah!" and he made a dreadful wry face,
as if he just felt a twinge.

"Your lordship would be much better if you took off all that flannel--it
only serves to inflame the toe," Harry continued, looking his man full
in the face.

"Oh! it only serves to inflame the toe, does it?" says the other, with
an innocent air.

"If you took off that flannel, and flung that absurd slipper away, and
wore a boot," continues Harry.

"You recommend me boots, Mr. Esmond?" asks my lord.

"Yes, boots and spurs. I saw your lordship three days ago run down the
gallery fast enough," Harry goes on. "I am sure that taking gruel at
night is not so pleasant as claret to your lordship; and besides it
keeps your lordship's head cool for play, whilst my patron's is hot and
flustered with drink."

"'Sdeath, sir, you dare not say that I don't play fair?" cries my lord,
whipping his horses, which went away at a gallop.

"You are cool when my lord is drunk," Harry continued; "your lordship
gets the better of my patron. I have watched you as I looked up from my
books."

"You young Argus!" says Lord Mohun, who liked Harry Esmond--and for
whose company and wit, and a certain daring manner, Harry had a great
liking too--"You young Argus! you may look with all your hundred eyes
and see we play fair. I've played away an estate of a night, and I've
played my shirt off my back; and I've played away my periwig and gone
home in a nightcap. But no man can say I ever took an advantage of him
beyond the advantage of the game. I played a dice-cogging scoundrel in
Alsatia for his ears and won 'em, and have one of 'em in my lodging in
Bow Street in a bottle of spirits. Harry Mohun will play any man for
anything--always would."

"You are playing awful stakes, my lord, in my patron's house," Harry
said, "and more games than are on the cards."

"What do you mean, sir?" cries my lord, turning round, with a flush on
his face.

"I mean," answers Harry, in a sarcastic tone, "that your gout is
well--if ever you had it."

"Sir!" cried my lord, getting hot.

"And to tell the truth I believe your lordship has no more gout tha