gentle human qualities: they have such--and the only sad point to
think of is, in all private concerns of life, abstract feelings, and
dealings with friends, and so on, how dreadfully like a rascal is to
an honest man. The man who murdered the Italian boy, set him first
to play with his children whom he loved, and who doubtless deplored
his loss.



CHAPTER VI. ADVENTURES OF THE AMBASSADOR, MR. MACSHANE.



If we had not been obliged to follow history in all respects, it is
probable that we should have left out the last adventure of Mrs.
Catherine and her husband, at the inn at Worcester, altogether; for,
in truth, very little came of it, and it is not very romantic or
striking. But we are bound to stick closely, above all, by THE
TRUTH--the truth, though it be not particularly pleasant to read of
or to tell. As anybody may read in the "Newgate Calendar," Mr. and
Mrs. Hayes were taken at an inn at Worcester; were confined there;
were swindled by persons who pretended to impress the bridegroom for
military service. What is one to do after that? Had we been
writing novels instead of authentic histories, we might have carried
them anywhere else we chose: and we had a great mind to make Hayes
philosophising with Bolingbroke, like a certain Devereux; and Mrs.
Catherine maitresse en titre to Mr. Alexander Pope, Doctor
Sacheverel, Sir John Reade the oculist, Dean Swift, or Marshal
Tallard; as the very commonest romancer would under such
circumstances. But alas and alas! truth must be spoken, whatever