ieutenant-General Webb. The Dutch officer dispatched by Count Nassau
Woudenbourg, Vaelt-Mareschal Auverquerque's son, brought back also a
complimentary letter to his commander, who had seconded Mr. Webb in the
action with great valour and skill.

Esmond, with a low bow and a smiling face, presented his dispatch, and
saluted Mr. Webb as Lieutenant-General, as he gave it in. The gentlemen
round about him--he was riding with his suite on the road to Menin as
Esmond came up with him--gave a cheer, and he thanked them, and opened the
dispatch with rather a flushed eager face.

He slapped it down on his boot in a rage after he had read it. "'Tis not
even writ with his own hand. Read it out, Esmond." And Esmond read it
out:--

"Sir--Mr. Cadogan is just now come in, and has acquainted me with
the success of the action you had yesterday in the afternoon
against the body of troops commanded by Monsieur de la Mothe, at
Wynendael, which must be attributed chiefly to your good conduct
and resolution. You may be sure I shall do you justice at home,
and be glad on all occasions to own the service you have done in
securing this convoy.--Yours, &c., M."

"Two lines by that d----d Cardonnel, and no more, for the taking of
Lille--for beating five times our number--for an action as brilliant as the
best he ever fought," says poor Mr. Webb. "Lieutenant-General! That's not
his doing. I was the oldest major-general. By ----, I believe he had been
better pleased if I had been beat."

The letter to the Dutch officer was in French, and longer and more
complimentary than that to Mr. Webb.

"And this is the man," he broke out, "that's gorged with gold--that's
covered with titles and honours that we won for him--and that grudges even
a line of praise to a comrade in arms! Hasn't he enough? Don't we fight
that he may roll in riches? Well, well, wait for the _Gazette_, gentlemen.
The queen and the country will do us justice if his grace denies it us."
There were tears of rage in the brave warrior's eyes as he spoke; and he
dashed them off his face on to his glove. He shook his fist in the air.
"Oh, by the Lord!" says he, "I know what I had rather have than a
peerage!"

"And what is that, sir?" some of them asked.

"I had rather have a quarter of an hour with John Churchill, on a fair
green field, and only a pair of rapiers between my shirt and his ----"

"Sir!" interposes one.

"Tell him so! I know that's w