“I take the little beast!” says the Doctor, starting back.  “I am engaged to your betters, fellow.  Tell Mr. Leach that when he makes an appointment with Dr. Swift he had best keep it, do ye hear?  And keep a respectful tongue in your head, sir, when you address a person like me.”

“I’m but a poor broken-down soldier,” says the Colonel, “and I’ve seen better days, though I am forced now to turn my hand to writing.  We can’t help our fate, sir.”

“You’re the person that Mr. Leach hath spoken to me of, I presume.  Have the goodness to speak civilly when you are spoken to—­and tell Leach to call at my lodgings in Bury Street, and bring the papers with him to-night at ten o’clock.  And the next time you see me, you’ll know me, and be civil, Mr. Kemp.”

Poor Kemp, who had been a lieutenant at the beginning of the war, and fallen into misfortune, was the writer of the Post-Boy, and now took honest Mr. Leach’s pay in place of her Majesty’s.  Esmond had seen this gentleman, and a very ingenious, hardworking honest fellow he was, toiling to give bread to a great family, and watching up many a long winter night to keep the wolf from his door.  And Mr. St. John, who had liberty always on his tongue, had just sent a dozen of the opposition writers into prison, and one actually into the pillory, for what he called libels, but libels not half so violent as those writ on our side.  With regard to this very piece of tyranny, Esmond had remonstrated strongly with the Secretary, who laughed and said the rascals were served quite right; and told Esmond a joke of Swift’s regarding the matter.  Nay, more, this Irishman, when St. John was about to pardon a poor wretch condemned to death for rape, absolutely prevented the Secretary from exercising this act of good-nature, and boasted that he had had the man hanged; and great as the Doctor’s genius might be, and splendid his ability, Esmond for one would affect no love for him, and never desired to make his acquaintance.  The Doctor was at Court every Sunday assiduously enough, a place the Colonel frequented but rarely, though he had a great inducement to go there in the person of a fair maid of honor of her Majesty’s; and the airs and patronage Mr. Swift gave himself, forgetting gentlemen of his country whom he knew perfectly, his loud talk at once insolent and servile, nay, perhaps his very intimacy with Lord Treasurer and the Secretary, who indulged all his freaks and called him Jonathan, you may be sure, were remarked by many a person of whom the proud priest himself took no note, during that time of his vanity and triumph.