and a hundred
times at least saw Dick into his chair. If there is verity in wine,
according to the old adage, what an amiable-natured character Dick's must
have been! In proportion as he took in wine he overflowed with kindness.
His talk was not witty so much as charming. He never said a word that
could anger anybody, and only became the more benevolent the more tipsy he
grew. Many of the wags derided the poor fellow in his cups, and chose him
as a butt for their satire; but there was a kindness about him, and a
sweet playful fancy, that seemed to Esmond far more charming than the
pointed talk of the brightest wits, with their elaborate repartees and
affected severities. I think Steele shone rather than sparkled. Those
famous _beaux-esprits_ of the coffee-houses (Mr. William Congreve, for
instance, when his gout and his grandeur permitted him to come among us)
would make many brilliant hits--half a dozen in a night sometimes--but, like
sharpshooters, when they had fired their shot, they were obliged to retire
under cover till their pieces were loaded again, and wait till they got
another chance at their enemy; whereas Dick never thought that his
bottle-companion was a butt to aim at--only a friend to shake by the hand.
The poor fellow had half the town in his confidence; everybody knew
everything about his loves and his debts, his creditors or his mistress's
obduracy. When Esmond first came on to the town, honest Dick was all
flames and raptures for a young lady, a West India fortune, whom he
married. In a couple of years the lady was dead, the fortune was all but
spent, and the honest widower was as eager in pursuit of a new paragon of
beauty as if he had never courted and married and buried the last one.

Quitting the Guard-table on one sunny afternoon, when by chance Dick had a
sober fit upon him, he and his friend were making their way down Germain
Street, and Dick all of a sudden left his companion's arm, and ran after a
gentleman who was poring over a folio volume at the book-shop near to St.
James's Church. He was a fair, tall man, in a snuff-coloured suit, with a
plain sword, very sober, and almost shabby in appearance--at least when
compared to Captain Steele, who loved to adorn his jolly round person with
the finest of clothes, and shone in scarlet and gold lace. The captain
rushed up, then, to the student of the bookstall, took him in his arms,
hugged him, and would have kissed him--for Dick was always hugging