CHAPTER XLV

I inquire for my Uncle, and understand he is gone to sea—take Lodgings

at Charing Cross—go to the Play, where I meet with an adventure—Dine at

an ordinary—the Guests described—become acquainted with Medlar and

Doctor Wagtail

As soon as we alighted at the inn, I dispatched Strap to inquire for my

uncle at the Union Flag in Wapping; and he returned in a little time,

with an account of Mr. Bowling’s having gone to sea, mate of a merchant

ship, after a long and unsuccessful application attendance at the

Admiralty; where, it seems, the interest he depended upon was not

sufficient to reinstate him, or recover the pay that was due to him

when he quitted the Thunder.

Next day I hired very handsome lodgings not far from Charing Cross; and

in the evening dressed myself in a plain suit of the true Paris cut,

and appeared in a front box at the play, where I saw a good deal of

company, and was vain enough to believe that I was observed with an

uncommon degree of attention and applause. This silly conceit

intoxicated me so much, that I was guilty of a thousand ridiculous

coquetries; and I dare say, how favourable soever the thoughts of the

company might be at my first appearance, they were soon changed by my

absurd behaviour into pity or contempt. I rose and sat down, covered

and uncovered my head twenty times between the acts; pulled out my

watch, clapped it to my ear, wound it up, set it, gave it the hearing

again; displayed my snuff-box, affected to take snuff, that I might

have all opportunity of showing my brilliant, and wiped my nose with

perfumed handkerchief; then dangled my cane, and adjusted my

sword-knot, and acted many more fooleries of the same kind, in hopes of

obtaining the character of a pretty fellow, in the acquiring of which I

found two considerable obstructions in my disposition—namely, a natural

reserve and jealous sensibility. Fain would I have entered into

conversation with the people around me: but I was restrained by the

fear of being censured for my assurance, as well as by reflecting that

I was more entitled to a compliment of this kind from them, than they

to such condescension from a stranger like me. How often did I redden

at the frequent whispers and loud laughter of my fellow beaux, which I

imagined were excited by me; and how often did I envy the happy

indifference of those choice spirits, who behold the distress of the

scene without discovering the least symptom of approbation or concern.

My attention was engaged in spite of myself, and I could not help

weeping with the heroine of the stage, though I practised a great many

shifs to conceal this piece of unpolite weakness.

When the play was ended, I sat waiting for an opportunity of handing

some lady to her coach; but everyone was attended by such a number of

officious gallants, that for a long time I was balked in my

expectation. At length, however, I perceived a very handsome creature,

genteelly dressed, sitting by herself in a box, at some distance from

me; upon which I went up to her, and offered my service. She seemed to

be in some confusion, thanked me for my complaisance, and with a tender

look declined giving me the trouble: looking at her watch, and

testifying her surprise at the negligence of her footman whom she had

ordered to have a chair ready for her at that hour. I repeated my

entreaty with all the eloquence and compliment I was master of; and, in

the event, she was prevailed upon to accept of a proposal I made, to

send my servant for a chair or coach: accordingly, Strap was detached

for that purpose, and returned without success. By this time the

playhouse was quite empty, and we were obliged to retire. As I led her

through the passage, I observed five or six young fellows of fashion

standing in a corner, one of whom, as I thought, tipped my charmer the

wink, and when we were passed, I heard a loud laugh. This note aroused

my attention, and I was resolved to be fully satisfied of this lady’s

character, before I should have any nearer connection with her. As no

convenience appeared, I proposed to conduct her to a tavern, where we

might stay a few minutes, until my servant could fetch a coach from the

Strand. She seemed particularly shy of trusting herself in a tavern

with a stranger, but at last yielded to my pathetic remonstrances,

rather than endanger her health by remaining in a cold, damp

thoroughfare. Having thus far succeeded, I begged to know what wine she

would be pleased to drink a glass of; but she professed the greatest

aversion to all sorts of strong liquors, and it was with much

difficulty that I could persuade her to eat a jelly.

In the meantime, I endeavoured to alleviate the uneasiness she

discovered, by saying all the agreeable things I could think of; at

which she would often sigh, and regard me with a languishing look, that

seemed, however, too near akin to the lewd leer of a courtesan. This

discovery added to my former suspicion, while it put me upon my guard

against her arts, divested me of reserve, and enabled me to entertain

her with gaiety and freedom. In the course of our conversation, I

pressed her to allow me the honour of waiting upon her next day at her

lodgings, a request which she, with many apologues, refused, lest it

should give umbrage to Sir John, who was of a disposition apt to be

fretted with trifles. This information, by which I was to understand

that her husband was a knight, did not check my addresses, which became

more and more importunate, and I was even hardy enough to ravish a

kiss. But, O heavens! instead of banqueting on the ambrosial flavour,

that her delicacy of complexion promised, I was almost suffocated with

the steams of Geneva! An exhalation of this kind, from a mouth which

had just before declared an utter abhorrence of all spirituous liquors,

not only changed my doubts into certainty, but my raptures into

loathing; and it would have been impossible for me to have preserved

common complaisance five minutes longer, when my servant returned with

a coach. I took the advantage of this occasion, and presented my hand

to the lady, who put in practice against me the whole artillery of her

charms, ogling, languishing, sighing, and squeezing, with so little

reserve that Strap perceived her tenderness, and rubbed his hands with

joy as he followed us to the door; but I was proof against all her

endearments, and handed her into the coach with an intention to take my

leave immediately. She guessed my design, and invited me to her house,

whispering, that now Sir John was gone to bed, she could have the

pleasure of my conversation for half-an-hour without interruption. I

told her there was no mortification I would not undergo, rather than

endanger the repose of her ladyship; and, bidding the coachman drive

on, wished her a good night. She lost all temper at my indifference,

and, stopping the coach, at the distance of about twenty yards from me,

popped out her head, and howled with the lungs of a fishwoman, “D—n

you, you dog, won’t you pay the coach-hire?” As I made no answer, she

held forth against me with an eloquence peculiar to herself; calling me

pitifull fellow, scoundrel, and a hundred such appellations; concluding

with an oath, that, for all my appearance, she believed I had got no

money in my pocket.

Having thus vented her indignation, she ordered her coachman to

proceed, and I returned to the tavern, where I bespoke something for

supper, very well pleased at the issue of this adventure. I dispensed

with the attendance of the waiter at table, on pretence that my own

servant was present, and, when we were alone, said to Strap, “Well,

Monsieur d’Estrapes, what d’ye think of this lady?” My friend, who had

not opened his mouth since her departure, could make no other reply

than the monosyllable “Think!” which he pronounced with a note of fear

and astonishment. Surprised at this emphasis, I surveyed my valet, and,

perceiving a wildness in his looks, asked if he had seen his

grandfather’s ghost? “Ghost!” said he, “I am sure I have seen a devil

incarnate! Who would have thought that so much devilish malice and

Billingsgate could lurk under so much sweetness of countenance and

modesty of behaviour? Ah! God help us! Fronti nulla fides—nimium ne

crede colori—but we ought to down on our knees, and bless God for

delivering us from the jaws of that painted sepulchre!” I was pretty

much of Strap’s opinion, and, though I did not believe myself in any

danger from the allurements of that sisterhood, I determined to act

with great circumspection for the future, and shun all commerce of that

kind, as equally prejudicial to my purse and constitution.

My next care was to introduce myself into a set of good acquaintance:

for which purpose I frequented a certain coffee-house, noted for the

resort of good company, English as well as foreigners, where my

appearance procured all the civilities and advances I could desire. As

there was an ordinary in the same house, I went upstairs to dinner with

the other guests, and found myself at a table with thirteen people, the

greatest part of whom were better dressed than myself. The

conversation, which was mostly carried on in French, turned chiefly on

politics; and I soon found the whole company were in the French

interest, myself excepted, and a testy old gentleman, who contradicted

everything that was advanced in favour of his Most Christian Majesty,

with a surliness truly English. But this trusty patriot, who had never

been out of his own country, and drew all his maxims and notions from

prejudice and hearsay, was very unequal to his antagonists, who were

superior to him in learning and experience, and often took the liberty

of travellers in asserting things which were not strictly true, because

they thought themselves in no danger of being detected by him. The

claim of the Queen Of Spain to the Austrian dominions in Italy was

fully explained and vindicated, by a person who sat opposite to me,

and, by the solemnity of his manner and the richness of his apparel,

seemed to be a foreign ambassador. This dissertation produced another

on the Pragmatic Sanction, handled with great warmth by a young

gentleman at my right hand, dressed in a green frock, trimmed with

gold, who justified the French king for his breach of that contract;

and affirmed that he could not have observed it without injuring his

own glory. Although I was not at all convinced by this gentleman’s

arguments, I could not help admiring his vivacity which, I imagined,

must be the effect of his illustrious birth and noble education, and

accordingly rated him, in my conjecture, as a young prince on his

travels. The discourse was afterwards shifted by an old gentleman, of a

very martial appearance, to the last campaign, when the battle of

Dettingen was fought over again, with so many circumstances to the

honour of the French and disadvantages if the Allies, that I began to

entertain some doubts of my having been there in person, and took the

liberty to mention some objections to what he advanced. This freedom

introduced a dispute, which lasted a good while, to the mortification

of all present; and was at last referred to the determination of a

grave person, whom they styled Doctor, and who, under a show of great

moderation, decided it against me, with so little regard to truth, that

I taxed him with partiality in pretty severe terms, to the no small

entertainment of the true English politician, who rejoiced at my

defence of a cause he had so often espoused without success.

My opponent, pleased with the victory he had gained, affected a great

deal of candour, and told me, he should not have been so positive, if

he had not been at great pains to inform himself of each particular.

“Indeed,” said he, “I am convinced that the previous steps considered,

things could not happen otherwise; for we generals who have seen

service, though we may not be on the spot ourselves, know by the least

sketch of the disposition what must be the event.” He then censured,

with great freedom, every circumstance of the conduct of those who

commanded the Allies; from thence made a transition to the ministry,

which he honoured with many invectives for employing people who had

neither experience nor capacity, to the prejudice of old officers, who

had been distinguished for both; dropped many hints of his own

importance, and concluded with observing, that the French and Spaniards

knew better how to value generals of merit; the good effects of which

are seen in the conquests they gain, and the discipline of their

troops, which are at the same time better clothed and paid than any

soldiers in the universe. These remarks furnished the green knight with

an opportunity of launching out in the praise of the French government

in general, civil as well as military; on which occasion he made many

odious comparisons to the disadvantage of the English. Everybody,

almost, assented to the observations he made, and the doctor gave his

sanction, by saying, the people of France were undoubtedly the happiest

subjects in the world. I was so much astonished and confounded at their

infatuation and effrontery, that I had not power to utter one word in

opposition to their assertions; but my morose associate could not put

up with the indignity that was offered to Old England, and therefore

with a satirical grin addressed himself to the general in these words:

“Sir, sir, I have often heard it said, She’s a villainous bird that

befouls her own nest. As for what those people who are foreigners say,

I don’t mind it; they know no better; but you who were bred and born,

and have got your bread, under the English government, should have more

regard to gratitude, as well as truth in censuring your native country.

If the ministry have thought fit to lay you aside, I suppose they have

their own reasons for so doing; and you ought to remember, that you

still live on the bounty of this nation. As for these gentlemen

(meaning the prince and ambassador), who make so free with our

constitution, laws, and genius of our people, I think they might show a

little more respect for their benefactors, who, I must own, are to

blame in harbouring and protecting, and encouraging such ungrateful

vagrants as they are.” At these words, the chevalier in green started

up in a great passion, and laying his hand on the hilt of his hanger,

exclaimed, “Ah! foutre!” The Englishman on the other hand, grasping his

cane cried, “Don’t foutre me, sirrah, or by G—d I’ll knock you down.”

The company interposed, the Frenchman sat down again, and his

antagonist proceeded—“Lookey, Monsieur, you know very well that had you

dared to speak so freely of the administration of your own country in

Paris as you have done of ours in London, you would have been sent to

the Bastille without ceremony, where you might have rotted in a

dungeon, and never seen the light of the sun again. Now, sir, take my

word for it, although our constitution screens us from such oppression,

we want not laws to chastise the authors of seditious discourse, and if

I hear another syllable out of your mouth in contempt or prejudice of

this kingdom, I will give you a convincing proof of what I advance, and

have you laid by the heels for your presumption.” This declaration had

an effect on the company as sudden as surprising. The young prince

became as supple as a spaniel, the ambassador trembled, the general sat

silent and abashed, and the doctor, who it seems, had felt the rod of

power, grew pale as death, and assured us all, that he had no intention

to affront any person or people. “Your principles, doctor,” resumed the

old gentleman, “are no secret—I have nothing to say upon that head; but

am very much surprised, that a man who despises us so much, should

notwithstanding live among us, when he has no visible motive for so

doing. Why don’t you take up your habitation in your beloved France,

where you may rail at England without censure?” To this remonstrance

the doctor thought proper to make no reply, and an unsocial silence

ensued; which I perceiving, took notice, that it was pity such idle

disputes, maintained very often through whim or diversion, should

create any misunderstanding among gentlemen of good sense, and proposed

to drink down all animosity in another bottle.

This motion was applauded by the whole company. The wine was brought,

and the English champion, declaring he had no spleen against any man

for differing in opinion from him, any more than for difference of

complexion, drank to the good health of all present; the compliment was

returned, and the conversation once more became unreserved though more

general than before. Among other topics, the subject of war was

introduced, on which the general declaimed with great eloquence,

recounting many of his own exploits by way of illustration. In the

course of his harangue he happened to mention the word epaulement, upon

which the testy gentleman asked the meaning, of that term. “I’ll tell

you what an epaulement is,” replied he, “I never saw an epaulement but

once, and that was at the siege of Namur. In a council of war, Monsieur

Cohorn, the famous engineer, affirmed that the place could not be

taken.” “Yes,” said the Prince of Vandemont, “it may be taken by an

epaulement.” “This was immediately put into execution, and in

twenty-four hours Mareschal Boufflers was fain to capitulate.” Here he

made a full stop, and the old gentleman repeated the question, “But

pray what is an epaulement?” To this interrogation the officer made no

immediate reply, but rang the bell, and called for the bill, which

being brought, he threw down his proportion of the reckoning, and,

telling the company he would show them an epaulement when his majesty

should think fit to entrust him with the command of our army abroad,

strutted away with great dignity. I could not imagine why he was so shy

of explaining one of the most simple terms of fortification, which I

forthwith described as a side-work composed of earth, gabions, or

fascines; but I was very much surprised when I afterwards understood

that his reserve proceeded from his ignorance.

Having paid our bill, we adjourned to the coffee-room, where my

fellow-labourer insisted on treating me with a dish, giving me to

understand, at the same time, that I had acquired his good opinion,

both with respect to my principles and understanding. I thanked him for

his compliment, and, professing myself an utter stranger in this part

of the world, begged he would have the goodness to inform me of the

quality and characters of the people who dined above. This request was

a real favour to one of his disposition, which was no less

communicative than curious; he therefore complied with great

satisfaction, and told me, to my extreme astonishment, that the

supposed young prince was a dancer at one of the theatres, and the

ambassador no other than a fiddler belonging to the opera. “The

doctor,” said he “is a Roman Catholic priest, who sometimes appears in

the character of an officer, and assumes the name of captain; but more

generally takes the garb, title, and behaviour of a physician, in which

capacity he wheedles himself into the confidence of weak-minded people,

and by arguments no less specious than false, converts them from their

religion and allegiance. He has been in the hands of justice more than

once for such practices, but he is a sly dog, and manages matters with

so much craft, that hitherto he has escaped for a short imprisonment.

As for the general, you may see he has owed his promotion more to his

interest than his capacity; and, now that the eyes of the ministry are

opened, his friends dead or become inconsiderable, he is struck off the

list, and obliged to put up with a yearly pension. In consequence of

this reduction, he is become malcontent, and inveighs against the

government in all companies, with so little discretion, that I am

surprised at the lenity of the administration, in overlooking his

insolence, but the truth of the matter is, he owes his safety to his

weakness and want of importance. He has seen a little, and but a

little, service, and yet, if you will take his word to it, there has

not been a great action performed in the field since the Revolution, in

which he was not principally concerned. When a story is told of any

great general, he immediately matches it with one of himself, though he

is often unhappy in his invention, and commits such gross blunders in

the detail, that everybody is in pain for him. Caesar, Pompey, and

Alexander the Great, are continually in his mouth; and, as he reads a

good deal without any judgment to digest it, his ideas are confused,

and his harangues as unintelligible as infinite; for, if once he begin,

there is no chance of his leaving off speaking while one person remains

to yield attention; therefore the only expedient I know, for putting a

stop to his loquacity, is to lay hold of some incongruity he has

uttered, and demand an explanation; or ask the meaning of some

difficult term that he knows by name; this method will effectually put

him to silence, if not to flight, as it happened when I inquired about

an epaulement. Had he been acquainted with the signification of that

word, his triumph would have been intolerable, and we must have quitted

the field first, or been worried with impertinence.”

Having thus gratified my curiosity, the old gentleman began to discover

his own, in questions relating to myself, to which I thought proper to

return ambiguous answers. “I presume, Sir,” said he, “you have

travelled.” I answered, “Yes.” “I dare say you have found it very

expensive,” said he. I replied, “To be sure, one cannot travel without

money.” “That I know by experience,” said he, “for I myself take a trip

to Bath or Tunbridge every season; and one must pay sauce for what he

has on the road, as well in other countries as in this. That’s a pretty

stone in your ring—give me leave, sir—the French have attained to a

wonderful skill in making compositions of this kind. Why, now, this

looks almost as well as a diamond.” “Almost as well, Sir!” said I, “Why

not altogether? I am sure if you understand anything of jewels, you

must perceive, at first sight, that this stone is a real diamond, and

that of a very fine water. Take it in your hand and examine it.” He did

so with some confusion, and returned it, saying, “I ask your pardon; I

see it is a true brilliant of immense value.” I imagined his respect to

me increased after this inquiry; therefore to captivate his esteem the

more, I told him, I would show him a seal of composition, engraved

after a very valuable antique; upon which I pulled out my watch with a

rich gold chain, adorned with three seals set in gold, and an opal

ring. He viewed each of them with great eagerness, handled the chain,

admired the chased case, and observed that the whole must have cost me

a vast sum of money. I affected indifference, and replied in a careless

manner, “Some trifle of sixty or seventy guineas.” He stared in my face

for some time, and then asked if I was an Englishman? I answered in the

negative. “You are from Ireland then, Sir, I presume,” said he. I made

the same reply. “Oh! perhaps,” said he “you were born in one of our

settlements abroad.” I still answered No. He seemed very much

surprised, and said, he was sure I was not a foreigner. I made no

reply, but left him upon the tenter-hooks of impatient uncertainty. He

could not contain his anxiety, but asked pardon for the liberties he

had taken and, to encourage me the more to disclose my situation,

displayed his own without reserve. “I am,” said he, “a single man, have

a considerable annuity, on which I live according to my inclination,

and make the ends of the year meet very comfortably. As I have no

estate to leave behind, I am not troubled with the importunate

officiousness of relations or legacy hunters, and I consider the world

as made for me, not me for the world. It is my maxim, therefore, to

enjoy it while I can, and let futurity shift for itself.”

While he thus indulged his own talkative vein, and at the same time, no

doubt, expected retaliation from me, a young man entered, dressed in

black velvet and an enormous tie-wig, with an air in which natural

levity and affected solemnity were so jumbled together, that on the

whole he appeared a burlesque on all decorum. This ridiculous oddity

danced up to the table at which we sat, and, after a thousand grimaces,

asked my friend by the name of Mr. Medlar, if we were not engaged upon

business. My companion put on a surly countenance, and replied “No

great business, doctor—but however—” “Oh! then,” cried the physician;

“I must beg your indulgence a little; pray pardon me, gentlemen.”

“Sir,” said he, addressing himself to me, “your most humble servant. I

hope you will forgive me, sir—I must beg the favour to sit—sir—sir—I

have something of consequence to impart to my friend Mr. Medlar—sir, I

hope you will excuse my freedom in whispering, sir,” Before I had time

to give this complaisant person my permission, Mr. Medlar cried, “I’ll

have no whispering—if you have anything to say to me, speak with an

audible voice.” The doctor seemed a little disconcerted at this

exclamation, and, turning again to me, made a thousand apologies for

pretending to make a mystery of anything, a piece of caution which he

said was owing to his ignorance of my connection with Mr. Medlar; but

now he understood I was a friend, and would communicate what he had to

say in my hearing. He then began, after two or three hems, in this

manner: “You must know, sir, I am just come from dinner at my Lady

Flareit’s (then addressing himself to me), a lady of quality, sir, at

whose table I have the honour of dining sometimes. There was Lady

Stately and my Lady Larum, and Mrs. Dainty, and Miss Biddy Giggler,

upon my word, a very good-natured young lady, with a very pretty

fortune sir. There was also my Lord Straddle. Sir John Shrug, and

Master Billy Chatter, who is actually a very facetious young gentleman.

So, sir, her ladyship seeing me excessively fatigued, for she was the

last of fifteen patients (people of distinction, sir) whom I had

visited this forenoon, insisted upon my staying dinner, though upon my

word I protest I had no appetite; however, in compliance with her

ladyship’s request, sir, I sat down, and the conversation turning on

different subjects, among other things, Mr Chatter asked very earnestly

when I saw Mr. Medlar. I told him I had not had the pleasure of seeing

you these nineteen hours and a half; for you may remember, sir, it was

nearly about that time; I won’t be positive as to a minute.” “No,” says

he, “then I desire you will go to his lodgings immediately after

dinner, and see what’s the matter with him, for he must certainly be

very bad from having eaten last night such a vast quantity of raw

oysters.” The crusty gentleman, who, from the solemnity of his

delivery, expected something extraordinary, no sooner heard his

conclusion, than he started up in a testy humour, crying, “Pshaw,

pshaw! D—n your oysters!” and walked away, after a short compliment of,

“Your servant sir,” to me. The doctor got up also, saying, “I vow and

protest, upon my word, I am actually amazed;” and followed Mr. Medlar

to the bar, which was hard by, where he was paying for his coffee:

there he whispered so loud that I could overhear, “Pray who is this

gentleman?” His friend replied hastily, “I might have known that before

now, if it had not been for your impertinent intrusion,”—and walked off

very much disappointed. The ceremonious physician returned immediately

and sat down by me, asking a thousand pardons for leaving me alone: and

giving me to understand that what he had communicated to Mr. Medlar at

the bar, was an affair of the last importance, that would admit of no

delay. He then called for some coffee, and launched out into the

virtues of that berry, which, he said, in cold phlegmatic

constitutions, like his, dried up the superfluous moisture, and braced

the relaxed nerves. He told me it was utterly unknown to the ancients;

and derived its name from an Arabian word, which I might easily

perceive by the sound and termination. From this topic he transferred

his disquisitions to the verb drink, which he affirmed was improperly

applied to the taking of coffee, inasmuch as people did not drink, but

sip or sipple that liquor; that the genuine meaning of drinking is to

quench one’s thirst, or commit a debauch by swallowing wine; that the

Latin word, which conveyed the same idea, was bibere or potare, and

that of the Greeks pinein or poteein, though he was apt to believe they

were differently used on different occasions: for example—to drink a

vast quantity, or, as the vulgar express it, to drink an ocean of

liquor, was in Latin potare, and in Greek poteein; and, on the other

hand, to use it moderately, was bibere and pinein;—that this was only a

conjecture of his, which, however, seemed to be supported by the word

bibulous, which is particularly applied to the pores of the skin, and

can only drink a very small quantity of the circumambient moisture, by

reason of the smallness of their diameters;—whereas, from the verb

poteein is derived the substantive potamos, which signifies a river, or

vast quantity of liquor. I could not help smiling at this learned and

important investigation; and, to recommend myself the more to my new

acquaintance, whose disposition I was by this time well informed of, I

observed that, what he alleged, did not, to the best of my remembrance,

appear in the writings of the ancients; for Horace uses the words poto

and bibo indifferently for the same purpose, as in the twentieth Ode of

his first Book.

“Vile potabis modicis sabinum cantharis—

—Et prœlo domitam caleno tu bibes uvam.”

That I had never heard of the verb _poteein_, but that _potamos,

potema_, and _potos_, were derived from _pino, poso, pepoka_, in

consequence of which, the Greek poets never use any other word for

festal drinking. Homer describes Nestor at his cups in these words,

“Nestora d’ouk elathen iache _pinonta_ perempes.”

And Anacreon mentions it on the same occasion always in every page.

“_Pinonti_ de oinon hedun.

Otan _pino_ ton oinon.

Opliz’ ego de _pino_.”

And in a thousand other places. The doctor who doubtless intended by

his criticism to give me a high idea of his erudition, was infinitely

surprised to find himself schooled by one of my appearance; and after a

considerable pause cried, “Upon my word, you are in the right, sir—I

find I have not considered this affair with my usual accuracy.” Then,

accosting me in Latin, which he spoke very well, the conversation was

maintained full two hours, on a variety of subjects, in that language;

and indeed he spoke so judiciously, that I was convinced,

notwithstanding his whimsical appearance and attention to trifles, that

he was a man of extensive knowledge, especially in books; he looked

upon me, as I afterwards understood from Mr. Medlar, as a prodigy in

learning, and proposed that very night, if I were not engaged, to

introduce me to several young gentlemen of fortune and fashion, with

whom I had an appointment at the Bedford coffee house.