between my supporters and myself. When
I appear before you a second time, you will have a right to see how
far I have wronged that trust reposed in me as your representative. Mr.
Briggs, I dare say it may seem rude and impolitic to address you in this
manner; but I am a plain, blunt man, and I disdain the vulgar arts of
electioneering, Mr. Briggs."

"Give us your fist, old boy," cried the wine merchant, in a transport;
"give us your fist; I promise you my support, and I am delighted to vote
for a young gentleman of such excellent principles."

So much, dear reader, for Mr. Briggs, who became from that interview
my staunchest supporter. I will not linger longer upon this part of my
career; the above conversations may serve as a sufficient sample of my
electioneering qualifications: and so I shall merely add, that after the
due quantum of dining, drinking, spouting, lying, equivocating, bribing,
rioting, head-breaking, promise-breaking, and--thank the god Mercury,
who presides over elections--chairing of successful candidateship, I
found myself fairly chosen member for the borough of Buyemall.

CHAPTER XXXVII.

Political education is like the keystone to the arch--the strength of
the whole depends upon it.--Encycl. Britt. Sup. Art. "Education."

I was sitting in the library of Glenmorris Castle, about a week after
all the bustle of contest and the eclat of victory had began to subside,
and quietly dallying with the dry toast, which constituted then, and
does to this day, my ordinary breakfast, when I was accosted by the
following speech from my uncle.

"Henry, your success has opened to you a new career: I trust you intend
to pursue it?"

"Certainly," was my answer.

"But you know, my dear Henry, that though you have great talents, which,
I confess, I was surprised in the course of the election to discover,
yet they want that careful cultivation, which, in order to shine in the
House of Commons, they must receive. Entre nous, Henry; a litle reading
would do you no harm."

"Very well," said I, "suppose I begin with Walter Scott's novels; I am
told they are extremely entertaining."

"True," answered my uncle, "but they don't contain the most accurate
notions of history, or the soundest principles of political philosophy
in the world. What did you think of doing to-day, Henry?"

"Nothing!" said I very innocently.

"I should conceive that to be an usual answer of yours, Henry, to any
similar question."