emingly of some distinction,
signifies Boniface] the honor to sup with him at the Raven?"--"No, by
Jupiter!" answer the most, in their various dialects: "who is he that
we should sup with him?" Three, struck by the singularity of the thing,
undertake; and with these we must be content. Friedrich--or call him
M. le Comte Dufour, with Pfuhl, Schaffgotsch and such escort as we
see--politely apologizes on the entrance of these officers: "Many
pardons, gentlemen, and many thanks. Knowing nobody; desirous
of acquaintance:--since you are so good, how happy, by a little
informality, to have brought brave Officers to keep me company, whom I
value beyond other kinds of men!"

The Officers found their host a most engaging gentleman: his supper was
superb, plenty of wine, "and one red kind they had never tasted before,
and liked extremely;"--of which he sent some bottles to their lodging
next day. The conversation turned on military matters, and was enlivened
with the due sallies. This foreign Count speaks French wonderfully; a
brilliant man, whom the others rather fear: perhaps something more than
a Count? The Officers, loath to go, remembered that their two battalions
had to parade next morning, that it was time to be in bed: "I will go to
your review," said the Stranger Count: the delighted Officers undertake
to come and fetch him, they settle with him time and method; how happy!

On the morrow, accordingly, they call and fetch him; he looks at the
review; review done, they ask him to supper for this evening: "With
pleasure!" and "walks with them about the Esplanade, to see the guard
march by." Before parting, he takes their names, writes them in his
tablets; says, with a smile, "He is too much obliged ever to forget
them." This is Wednesday, the 24th of August, 1740; Field-Marshal
Broglio is Commandant in Strasburg, and these obliging Officers are "of
the regiment Piedmont,"--their names on the King's tablets I never heard
mentioned by anybody (or never till the King's Doggerel was fished up
again). Field-Marshal Broglio my readers have transiently seen, afar
off;--"galloping with only one boot," some say "almost in his shirt,"
at the Ford of Secchia, in those Italian campaigns, five years ago, the
Austrians having stolen across upon him:--he had a furious gallop, with
no end of ridicule, on that occasion; is now Commandant here; and we
shall have a great deal more to do with him within the next year or two.

"This same day,