CHAP. XIII.
JACK was a professed enemy to implicit faith, and yet I dare say, it was never more strongly exerted, nor more basely abused, than upon this occasion. He was now with his old friends, in the state of a poor disbanded officer after a peace, or rather a wounded soldier after a battle; like an old favourite of a cunning minister after the job is over: or a decayed beauty to a cloyed lover in quest of new game; or like a hundred such things, that one sees every day. There were new intrigues, new views, new projects on foot; Jack's life was the purchase of Diego's friendship[1], much good may it do them. The interest of Hocus and sir William Crawley, which was now more at heart, made this operation upon poor Jack absolutely necessary. You may easily guess, that his rest that night was but small, and much disturbed; however, the remaining part of his time he did not employ (as his custom was formerly) in prayer, meditation, or singing a double verse of a psalm; but amused himself with disposing of his bank-stock. Many a doubt, many a qualm, overspread his clouded imagination: "Must I then," quoth he, "hang up
- ↑ The earl of Nottingham made the concurrence of the whigs to bring in and carry this bill one of the conditions of his engaging in their cause.
