ty.

Cecil forwarded the Address to Everard Romfrey without comment.

Next day the following letter, dated from Itchincope, the house of Mr.
Grancey Lespel, on the borders of Bevisham, arrived at Steynham:

'I have despatched you the proclamation, folded neatly. The electors of
Bevisham are summoned, like a town at the sword's point, to yield him
their votes. Proclamation is the word. I am your born representative! I
have completed my political education on salt water, and I tackle you
on the Land question. I am the heir of your votes, gentlemen!--I forgot,
and I apologize; he calls them fellow-men. Fraternal, and not so
risky. Here at Lespel's we read the thing with shouts. It hangs in the
smoking-room. We throw open the curacoa to the intelligence and industry
of the assembled guests; we carry the right of the multitude to our
host's cigars by a majority. C'est un farceur que notre bon petit
cousin. Lespel says it is sailorlike to do something of this sort after
a cruise. Nevil's Radicalism would have been clever anywhere out of
Bevisham. Of all boroughs! Grancey Lespel knows it. He and his family
were Bevisham's Whig M.P.'s before the day of Manchester. In Bevisham an
election is an arrangement made by Providence to square the accounts of
the voters, and settle arrears. They reckon up the health of their two
members and the chances of an appeal to the country when they fix the
rents and leases. You have them pointed out to you in the street,
with their figures attached to them like titles. Mr. Tomkins, the
twenty-pound man; an elector of uncommon purity. I saw the ruffian
yesterday. He has an extra breadth to his hat. He has never been known
to listen to a member under L20, and is respected enormously--like the
lady of the Mythology, who was an intolerable Tartar of virtue, because
her price was nothing less than a god, and money down. Nevil will have
to come down on Bevisham in the Jupiter style. Bevisham is downright
the dearest of boroughs--"vaulting-boards," as Stukely Culbrett calls
them--in the kingdom. I assume we still say "kingdom."

'He dashed into the Radical trap exactly two hours after landing. I
believe he was on his way to the Halketts at Mount Laurels. A notorious
old rascal revolutionist retired from his licenced business of
slaughterer--one of your gratis doctors--met him on the high-road, and
told him he was the man. Up went Nevil's enthusiasm like a bottle rid
of the cork. You will see a great