deserve
that honour. One word upon the principles I espouse: they are those
which have found their advocates among the wisest and the best; they are
those which, hostile alike to the encroachments of the crown, and the
licentiousness of the people, would support the real interest of both.
Upon these grounds, gentlemen, I have the honour to solicit your votes;
and it is with the sincerest respect for your ancient and honourable
body, that I subscribe myself your very obedient servant,

"Henry Pelham."

"Glenmorris Castle,"

Such was the first public signification of my intentions; it was drawn
up by Mr. Sharpon, our lawyer, and considered by our friends as a
masterpiece: for, as my mother sagely observed, it did not commit me
in a single instance--espoused no principle, and yet professed what all
parties would allow was the best.

At the first house where I called, the proprietor was a clergyman of
good family, who had married a lady from Baker-street: of course the
Reverend Combermere St. Quintin and his wife valued themselves upon
being "genteel." I arrived at an unlucky moment; on entering the hall, a
dirty footboy was carrying a yellow-ware dish of potatoes into the back
room. Another Ganymede (a sort of footboy major), who opened the door,
and who was still settling himself into his coat, which he had slipped
on at my tintinnabulary summons, ushered me with a mouth full of bread
and cheese into this said back room. I gave up every thing as lost, when
I entered, and saw the lady helping her youngest child to some ineffable
trash, which I have since heard is called "blackberry pudding." Another
of the tribe was bawling out, with a loud, hungry tone--"A tatoe, pa!"
The father himself was carving for the little group, with a napkin
stuffed into the top button-hole of his waistcoat, and the mother,
with a long bib, plentifully bespattered with congealing gravy, and the
nectarean liquor of the "blackberry pudding," was sitting, with a sort
of presiding complacency, on a high stool, like Jupiter on Olympus,
enjoying rather than stilling the confused hubbub of the little domestic
deities, who eat, clattered, spattered, and squabbled around her.

Amidst all this din and confusion, the candidate for the borough of
Buyemall was ushered into the household privacy of the genteel Mr.
and Mrs. St. Quintin. Up started the lady at the sound of my name. The
Reverend Combermere St. Quintin seemed frozen into stone. The plate
bet