in his arms, himself appeared at my gate, as seen in the French
print, crying, "Date obolum Belsario," I should have pronounced him at
once an impostor, and given him nothing, and, indeed, not pronounced
wrongly, for the whole story is a fiction. But at this peculiar moment
of hunger and of avarice, I confess I was too ready, and gave a check
for the amount. I had no sooner, however, satisfied myself with what
Homer calls [Greek: edetnos ede potetos], and we moderns, meat and
potatoes--than I began to suspect the soundness of the scheme, or the
company, who had gone to the expense of a chaise for eight miles merely
to collect this subscription of mine; and I was curious the next day to
trace the doings of this smart gentleman, when I found he had dined at
the inn at B---- on turtle, ducks, and green peas, and had recruited the
weariness of his day's journey with exhilarating champagne. I knew my
fate at once, and from that day to this have heard nothing of the London
and Falmouth project. Now, Eusebius, as you publish my letters, if this
should catch the eye of any of the directors of that company still
possessing any atom of conscience, I beg to remind them that I am still
minus fifty pounds; and as all claim seems to be quite out of the
question, excepting on their "known and boundless generosity," I beg to
wind up this little narrative of the transaction in the usual words of
the beggar's petition, "The smallest donation will be thankfully
received."

But the bearer, who was to consult me for your benefit--he hadn't a word
to say to me on the subject, but that he would call and consult with me
to-morrow. I found it in vain to question him, and I suspect it is a
hoax. But what a rural monster you have sent me! "Cujum pecus?--an
Melibei?" He cannot possibly herd with Eusebius; he had no modest
bearing about him. I had just opened your letter, and found you called
him a friend of yours, who had many observations to make about
poetry--so, as we were just going to tea, he was invited. It was most
fortunate I did not offer him a bed, for I should then have been bored
with him at this moment, when I am sitting down to write to you some
little account of his manners and conversation, which you know very
well, or you would not have sent him to me. I only now hope I shall not
see him to-morrow; and should I learn that he shall have departed in one
of those Plutonian engines to the keeping of Charon himself, I should
only regre