The Expedition of Humphry Clinker

THE EXPEDITION OF HUMPHRY CLINKER 113
ha!’ When he had uttered this rhapsody, with his usual precipita-
tion, Mr. Barton gave him to understand, that I was neither Sir
Francis, nor St. Francis, but simply Mr. Melford, nephew to Mr.
Bramble; who, stepping forward, made his bow at the same time.
‘Odso! no more it is Sir Francis—(said this wise statesman) Mr.
Melford, I’m glad to see you—I sent you an engineer to fortify
your dock—Mr. Bramble—your servant, Mr. Bramble—How
d’ye, good Mr. Bramble? Your nephew is a pretty young fellow—
Faith and troth, a very pretty fellow!—His father is my old friend—
How does he hold it? Still troubled with that damned disorder,
ha?’ ‘No, my lord, (replied my uncle) all his troubles are over—He
has been dead these fifteen years.’ ‘Dead! how—Yes, faith! now
I remember: he is dead, sure enough—Well, and how—does the
young gentleman stand for Haverford West? or—a—what d’ye—
My dear Mr. Milfordhaven, I’ll do you all the service in my
power—I hope I have some credit left—’ My uncle then gave him
to understand, that I was still a minor; and that we had no inten-
tion to trouble him at present, for any favour whatsoever—‘I came
hither with my nephew (added he) to pay our respects to your
grace; and I may venture to say, that his views and mine are at
least as disinterested as those of any individual in this assembly.’
‘My dear Mr. Brambleberry! you do me infinite honour—I shall
always rejoice to see you and your hopeful nephew, Mr. Milford-
haven—My credit, such as it is, you may command—I wish we
had more friends of your kidney—’
Then, turning to captain C——, ‘Ha, C——! (said he) what
news, C——? how does the world wag? ha!’ ‘The world wags
much after the old fashion, my lord (answered the captain): the
politicians of London and Westminster have begun again to wag
their tongues against your grace; and your short-lived popularity
wags like a feather, which the next puff of antiministerial calumny
will blow away—’ ‘A pack of rascals (cried the duke)—Tories,
Jacobites, rebels; one half of them would wag their heels at
Tyburn, if they had their deserts—’ So saying, he wheeled about;
and, going round the levee, spoke to every individual, with the most
courteous familiarity; but he scarce ever opened his mouth without
making some blunder, in relation to the person or business of the
party with whom he conversed; so that he really looked like a come-
dian, hired to burlesque the character of a minister—At length, a
person of a very prepossessing appearance coming in, his grace