"Why, really, my dear Harley, this man was no great friend of yours—eh?"
"If he were, he would not want the Government to help him—he would not be ashamed of taking money from me."
"That is all very fine, Harley; but there are so many poor officers, and so little to give. It is the most difficult thing in the world that which you ask me. Indeed, I know nothing can be done: he has his half-pay?"
"I think not; or, if he has it, no doubt it all goes on his debts. That's nothing to us: the man and his child are starving."
"But if it is his own fault—if he has been imprudent?"
"Ah—well, well; where the devil is Nero?"
"I am so sorry I can't oblige you. If it were any thing else—"
"There is something else. My valet—I can't turn him adrift—excellent fellow, but gets drunk now and then. Will you find him a place in the Stamp Office?"
"With pleasure."
"No, now I think of it—the man knows my ways: I must keep him. But my old wine-merchant—civil man, never dunned—is a bankrupt. I am under great obligations to him, and he has a very pretty daughter. Do you think you could thrust him into some small place in the colonies, or make him a King's Messenger, or something of the sort?"