An ejected placeman goes down
to his county or his borough, tells his friends of his inability to
serve them, and his constituents of the corruption of the government.
His friends readily understand that he who can get nothing, will have
nothing to give. They agree to proclaim a meeting; meat and drink are
plentifully provided; a crowd is easily brought together, and those who
think that they know the reason of their meeting, undertake to tell
those who know it not; ale and clamour unite their powers; the crowd,
condensed and heated, begins to ferment with the leaven of sedition: all
see a thousand evils, though they cannot show them; and grow impatient
for a remedy, though they know not what.

A speech is then made by the _Cicero_ of the day; he says much, and
suppresses more; and credit is equally given to what he tells, and what
he conceals. The petition is read, and universally approved. Those who
are sober enough to write, add their names, and the rest would sign it,
if they could.

Every man goes home and tells his neighbour of the glories of the day;
how he was consulted, and what he advised; how he was invited into the
great room, where his lordship called him by his name; how he was
caressed by sir Francis, sir Joseph, or sir George; how he eat turtle
and venison, and drank unanimity to the three brothers.

The poor loiterer, whose shop had confined him, or whose wife had locked
him up, hears the tale of luxury with envy, and, at last, inquires what
was their petition. Of the petition nothing is remembered by the
narrator, but that it spoke much of fears and apprehensions, and
something very alarming, and that he is sure it is against the
government; the other is convinced that it must be right, and wishes he
had been there, for he loves wine and venison, and is resolved, as long
as he lives, to be against the government.

The petition is then handed from town to town, and from house to house;
and, wherever it comes, the inhabitants flock together, that they may
see that which must be sent to the king. Names are easily collected. One
man signs, because he hates the papists; another, because he has vowed
destruction to the tumpikes; one, because it will vex the parson;
another, because he owes his landlord nothing; one, because he is rich;
another, because he is poor; one, to show that he is not afraid; and
another, to show that he can write.

The passage, however, is not always smooth. Those who collect
c