ouse that offered, and being shewn into the common room, was
accosted by a very well-drest gentleman, who demanded whether I was the
real chaplain of the company, or whether it was only to be my masquerade
character in the play. Upon informing him of the truth, and that I did
not belong in any sort to the company, he was condescending enough to
desire me and the player to partake in a bowl of punch, over which he
discussed modern politics with great earnestness and interest. I set him
down in my mind for nothing less than a parliament-man at least; but was
almost confirmed in my conjectures, when upon my asking what there was
in the house for supper, he insisted that the Player and I should sup
with him at his house, with which request, after some entreaties, we
were prevailed on to comply.

CHAPTER 19

The description of a person discontented with the present government,
and apprehensive of the loss of our liberties

The house where we were to be entertained, lying at a small distance
from the village, our inviter observed, that as the coach was not ready,
he would conduct us on foot, and we soon arrived at one of the most
magnificent mansions I had seen in that part of the country. The
apartment into which we were shewn was perfectly elegant and modern; he
went to give orders for supper, while the player, with a wink, observed
that we were perfectly in luck. Our entertainer soon returned,
an elegant supper was brought in, two or three ladies, in an easy
deshabille, were introduced, and the conversation began with some
sprightliness. Politics, however, was the subject on which our
entertainer chiefly expatiated; for he asserted that liberty was at once
his boast and his terror. After the cloth was removed, he asked me if I
had seen the last Monitor, to which replying in the negative, 'What, nor
the Auditor, I suppose?' cried he. 'Neither, Sir,' returned I. 'That's
strange, very strange,' replied my entertainer. 'Now, I read all
the politics that come out. The Daily, the Public, the Ledger, the
Chronicle, the London Evening, the Whitehall Evening, the seventeen
magazines, and the two reviews; and though they hate each other, I love
them all. Liberty, Sir, liberty is the Briton's boast, and by all my
coal mines in Cornwall, I reverence its guardians.' 'Then it is to
be hoped,' cried I, 'you reverence the king.' 'Yes,' returned my
entertainer, 'when he does what we would have him; but if he goes on as
he has done