Demetrius, the City-Taker, who made himself up like a French marquise,
were all pretty good fellows at fighting. A slovenly hero like Cromwell
is a paradox in nature, and a marvel in history. But to return to my
cornet. We were rich; he was poor. When the pot of clay swims down the
stream with the brass-pots, it is sure of a smash. Men said Digby was
stingy; I saw he was extravagant. But every one, I fear, would be rather
thought stingy than poor. /Bref/--I left the army, and saw him no more
till to-night. There was never shabby poor gentleman on the stage more
awfully shabby, more pathetically gentleman. But, look ye, this man has
fought for England. It was no child's play at Waterloo, let me tell you,
Mr. Egerton; and, but for such men, you would be at best a /sous prefet/,
and your parliament a Provincial Assembly. You must do something for
Digby. What shall it be?"

"Why, really, my dear Harley, this man was no great friend of yours, eh?"

"If he were, he would not want the Government to help him,--he would not
be ashamed of taking money from me."

"That is all very fine, Harley; but there are so many poor officers, and
so little to give. It is the most difficult thing in the world that
which you ask me. Indeed, I know nothing can be done: he has his half-
pay?"

"I think not; or, if he has it, no doubt it all goes on his debts.
That's nothing to us: the man and his child are starving."

"But if it is his own fault,--if he has been imprudent?"

"Ah, well, well; where the devil is Nero?"