hould
have had a place in the poet's verses. "And for you, you are but a
lieutenant," says Addison, "and the Muse can't occupy herself with any
gentleman under the rank of a field officer."

Mr. Boyle was all impatient to hear, saying that my Lord Treasurer
and my Lord Halifax were equally anxious; and Addison, blushing, began
reading of his verses, and, I suspect, knew their weak parts as well
as the most critical hearer. When he came to the lines describing the
angel, that

"Inspired repulsed battalions to engage,
And taught the doubtful battle where to rage,"

he read with great animation, looking at Esmond, as much as to say,
"You know where that simile came from--from our talk, and our bottle of
Burgundy, the other day."

The poet's two hearers were caught with enthusiasm, and applauded the
verses with all their might. The gentleman of the Court sprang up in
great delight. "Not a word more, my dear sir," says he. "Trust me with
the papers--I'll defend them with my life. Let me read them over to my
Lord Treasurer, whom I am appointed to see in half an hour. I venture to
promise, the verses shall lose nothing by my reading, and then, sir, we
shall see whether Lord Halifax has a right to complain that his friend's
pension is no longer paid." And without more ado, the courtier in lace
seized the manuscript pages, placed them in his breast with his ruffled
hand over his heart, executed a most gracious wave of the hat with the
disengaged hand, and smiled and bowed out of the room, leaving an odor
of pomander behind him.

"Does not the chamber look quite dark?" says Addison, surveying it,
"after the glorious appearance and disappearance of that gracious
messenger? Why, he illuminated the whole room. Your scarlet, Mr. Esmond,
will bear any light; but this threadbare old coat of mine, how very worn
it looked under the glare of that splendor! I wonder whether they will
do anything for me," he continued. "When I came out of Oxford into the
world, my patrons promised me great things; and you see where their
promises have landed me, in a lodging up two pair of stairs, with a
sixpenny dinner from the cook's shop. Well, I suppose this promise will
go after the others, and fortune will jilt me, as the jade has been
doing any time these seven years. 'I puff the prostitute away,'" says
he, smiling, and blowing a cloud out of his pipe. "There is no hardship
in poverty, Esmond, that is not bearable; no hardship even in