and was merry,
till one fine day came a disagreeable piece of news, which startled him
considerably. The government at home had heard of his doings, and
determined to arraign him for high treason.

He could expect little else, for had he not actually taken up arms
against his sovereign?

Now Sir Robert Walpole was, no doubt, a vulgarian. He was not a man to
love or sympathise with; but he _was_ good-natured at bottom. Our
'frolic grace' had reason to acknowledge this. He could not complain of
harshness in any measures taken against him, and he had certainly no
claim to consideration from the government he had treated so ill. Yet
Sir Robert was willing to give him every chance; and so far did he go,
that he sent over a couple of friends to him to induce him only to ask
pardon of the king, with a promise that it would be granted. For sure
the Duke of Wharton's character was anomalous. The same man who had more
than once humiliated himself when unasked, who had written to Walpole's
brother the letter we have read, would not now, when entreated to do so,
write a few lines to that minister to ask mercy. Nay, when the gentleman
in question offered to be content even with a letter from the duke's
valet, he refused to allow the man to write. Some people may admire what
they will believe to be firmness, but when we review the duke's
character and subsequent acts, we cannot attribute this refusal to
anything but obstinate pride. The consequence of this folly was a
stoppage of supplies, for as he was accused of high treason, his estate
was of course sequestrated. He revenged himself by writing a paper which
was published in 'Mist's Journal,' and which, under the cover of a
Persian tale, contained a species of libel on the government.

His position was now far from enviable; and, assailed by duns, he had
no resource but to humble himself, not before those he had offended, but
before the Chevalier, to whom he wrote in his distress, and who sent him
L2,000, which he soon frittered away in follies. This gone, the duke
begged and borrowed, for there are some people such fools that they
would rather lose a thousand pounds to a peer than give sixpence to a
pauper, and many a tale was told of the artful manner in which his grace
managed to cozen his friends out of a louis or two. His ready wit
generally saved him.

Thus on one occasion an Irish toady invited him to dinner: the duke
talked of his wardrobe, then sadly defective; what s