ting glass to the health of General Webb. His absence
disappointed Esmond's old chief, who suffered much from his wounds
besides; and though the company was grand, it was rather gloomy. St. John
came last, and brought a friend with him:--"I'm sure," says my general,
bowing very politely, "my table hath always a place for Dr. Swift."

Mr. Esmond went up to the doctor with a bow and a smile:--"I gave Dr.
Swift's message," says he, "to the printer: I hope he brought your
pamphlet to your lodgings in time." Indeed poor Leach had come to his
house very soon after the doctor left it, being brought away rather tipsy
from the tavern by his thrifty wife; and he talked of cousin Swift in a
maudlin way, though of course Mr. Esmond did not allude to this
relationship. The doctor scowled, blushed, and was much confused, and said
scarce a word during the whole of dinner. A very little stone will
sometimes knock down these Goliaths of wit; and this one was often
discomfited when met by a man of any spirit; he took his place sulkily,
put water in his wine that the others drank plentifully, and scarce said a
word.

The talk was about the affairs of the day, or rather about persons than
affairs: my Lady Marlborough's fury, her daughters in old clothes and
mob-caps looking out from their windows and seeing the company pass to the
Drawing-room; the gentleman-usher's horror when the Prince of Savoy was
introduced to her Majesty in a tie-wig, no man out of a full-bottomed
periwig ever having kissed the royal hand before; about the Mohawks and
the damage they were doing, rushing through the town, killing and
murdering. Some one said the ill-omened face of Mohun had been seen at the
theatre the night before, and Macartney and Meredith with him. Meant to be
a feast, the meeting, in spite of drink, and talk, was as dismal as a
funeral. Every topic started subsided into gloom. His grace of Ormonde
went away because the conversation got upon Denain, where we had been
defeated in the last campaign. Esmond's general was affected at the
allusion to this action too, for his comrade of Wynendael, the Count of
Nassau-Woudenberg, had been slain there. Mr. Swift, when Esmond pledged
him, said he drank no wine, and took his hat from the peg and went away,
beckoning my Lord Bolingbroke to follow him; but the other bade him take
his chariot and save his coach-hire, he had to speak with Colonel Esmond;
and when the rest of the company withdrew to cards, these