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Whisper please, Image is sleeping.

February's leap year ate to his surfeit.

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Order being restored—the young lord {who, to say truth, had been a little ruffled & put beside his oratory} in as few, & yet as obliging words as possible, assured them of entire welcome; &, with a graceful turn, singling out poor Twenty-Ninth of February, that had sate all this while mumchance at the side-board, begged to couple his health with that of the good company before him—which he drank accordingly; observing, that he had not seen his honest face any time these four years—with a number of endearing