Two or three men were reading them, and discussing the news of the hour as they sipped their coffee or chocolate.
Harry led the way into this place, ordered coffee for himself and his friend, and, whilst nodding familiarly to the occupants of the room, possessed himself of a few papers, and pushed some of them across to Tom.
"A new pamphlet by Jonathan Swift, I see," he remarked carelessly, with a wink at his pupil.

"You know his Tale of a Tub, Tom?
Monstrous clever thing that! It tickles one to death reading it.

So do his pamphlets--sharpest things out.

Some talk of Defoe as his rival; but, for my part, I never read anything that rivals Swift's writings! Pity he has such a sharp edge to his temper.

They say he will never get promotion." Tom took up the pamphlet, and tried to look as though he were reading it with appreciation; but he had never been much of a student, and the comings and goings of a constant stream of visitors engrossed him far more than the printed words, the meaning of which he understood no whit.
It was much more interesting to him to listen to what the frequenters of the coffee house were saying amongst themselves; and greatly did he admire the ease and readiness with which Harry took his share in the conversation.
"Has my Lord Godolphin found a worthy pen to sing the praise of the victor of Blenheim yet ?" he asked of a man who appeared to be a referee on matters literary.