1826.) [ 6 ] 
LETTER ON AFFAIRS IN GENERAL, FROM A GENTLEMAN IN 
LONDON TO A GENTLEMAN IN THE COUNTRY. ‘ 
** Come like shadows, 86 depart.” 
Ir is a prodigious comfort to my spirit that general elections only 
take place once in seven years! ‘ Annual parliaments,” however, if 
they were introduced, must change the whole style and figure of the 
thing: it would be impossible, in the short space of twelve months, 
either to compose the quantity of bad wine, or collect the quantity of 
bad language, which the voters dyink, and the candidates utter, during 
‘4 contest, as matters go at present. 
Bond-street, Brighton, and Boulogne,—all opposing interests in ge- 
neral,—are concurring to wish politics at the devil. The “ town 
‘season’”’ has been entirely shortened. Few parties: few people. “ Bad 
go,” the dowagers say, all through the campaign. Daughters look down: 
market overstocked, and dull demand. Little done in settlements, unless 
where there happens to be “ borough interest.” Husbands as at last 
quotation.— Absolutely we must colonise. 
Oratory of the hustings, all over the country, duller than that of the 
pulpit. Nothing but a little Billingsgate from Hunt and Cobbett to make 
the contests at all tolerable. Cobbett is making a desperate battle— 
head, teeth, hoof, and horn—at Preston; but he has not a chance to 
come in. His money is gone ; and 
~ “Targent, l’argent, sans lui [at an election] tout est stérile : 
» “Za vertu [even if the candidate had any] sans l’argent, est un meuble inutile.” 
Cobbett’s insolence of disposition, however, would always be sufficient 
alone to ruin him in any popular contest. He speaks il] always; though his 
speeches read well, from the excellent sense and knowledge which they 
contain. His abuse is too terrific even for a mob to listen to—from a candi- 
date for parliament, whom they are used to think should have the manners 
of a gentleman. And his jokes, when he attempts to be pleasant, are 
too coarse—too vindictive ; the best of them are difficult to laugh at: 
“ He has some humour, I think?” said a barrister to an old country 
gentleman, who was listening to Cobbett at Preston for the first time.— 
“Yes,” replied the last—« Phat = init is a vulgar man, by com- 
parison with Cobbett, in point of talent, and is “ flinging dirt,” as if for 
a wager, in Somersetshire; and yet his deportment is less repulsive than 
Cobbett’s on the hustings. 
“¢ Jokes for July,” warranted undrawn. Let us see what can be doné 
with them. 
« Ascot Heath ” was gloriously crowded at the races the other day ; 
and there was one of the runs the result of which could not be made 
out (as it often happens in a close race) at a distance. The crowd 
ee up, of course, to the winning-post to inquire.—* It was E/ Do- 
ado, was not it, won?” asked one man (meaning the horse).—« No, 
you fool! it was Jem Robinson,” replied another (giving the name of 
the rider). That’s a better blunder than Colman in The Heir at Law. 
And vouched for as true, too, which is always something. 
Pretty bad every thing just now in the Book way. “ Rejected Articles !” 
by the Smiths, I suppose? But the day of parody is gone by. It is 
one of the lowest efforts in the way of composition, and was monstrously 
overrated for a time. Still, what the Smiths do is above mere parody. 
Roscoe’s “ German Novels!” very dull indeed—almost as dull as the 
M.M. New Series.—Vot. Il. No. 7. K 
