I will add but a word or two more.  I am criticised for the expression tinker up in the preface.  Is this one of those that you object to?  I own I think such a low expression, placed to ridicule an absurd instance of wise folly, very forcible.  Replace it with an elevated word or phrase, and to my conception it becomes as flat as possible.

George Selwyn says I may, if I please, write Historic Doubts on the present Duke of G[loucester] too.  Indeed, they would be doubts, for I know nothing certainly.

Will you be so kind as to look into Leslie “De Rebus Scotorum,” and see if Perkin’s Proclamation is there, and if there, how authenticated.  You will find in Speed my reason for asking this.  I have written in such a hurry, I believe you will scarce be able to read my letter—­and as I have just been writing French, perhaps the sense may not be clearer than the writing.  Adieu!

WILKES IS RETURNED M.P.  FOR MIDDLESEX—­RIOTS IN LONDON—­VIOLENCE OF THE MOB.

TO SIR HORACE MANN.

ARLINGTON STREET, Thursday, March 31, 1768.

I have received your letter, with the extract of that from Mr. Mackenzie.  I do not think any honours will be bestowed yet.  The Peerages are all postponed to an indefinite time.  If you are in a violent hurry, you may petition the ghosts of your neighbours—­Masaniello and the Gracchi.  The spirit of one of them walks here; nay, I saw it go by my window yesterday, at noon, in a hackney chair.

Friday.

I was interrupted yesterday.  The ghost is laid for a time in a red sea of port and claret.  The spectre is the famous Wilkes.  He appeared the moment the Parliament was dissolved.  The Ministry despise him.  He stood for the City of London, and was the last on the poll of seven candidates, none but the mob, and most of them without votes, favouring him.  He then offered himself to the county of Middlesex.  The election came on last Monday.  By five in the morning a very large body of Weavers, &c., took possession of Piccadilly, and the roads and turnpikes leading to Brentford, and would suffer nobody to pass without blue cockades, and papers inscribed “No. 45, Wilkes and Liberty.”  They tore to pieces the coaches of Sir W. Beauchamp Proctor, and Mr. Cooke, the other candidates, though the latter was not there, but in bed with the gout, and it was with difficulty that Sir William and Mr. Cooke’s cousin got to Brentford.  There, however, lest it should be declared a void election, Wilkes had the sense to keep everything quiet.  But, about five, Wilkes, being considerably ahead of the other two, his mob returned to town and behaved outrageously.  They stopped every carriage, scratched and spoilt several with writing all over them “No. 45,” pelted, threw dirt and stones, and forced everybody to huzza for Wilkes.  I did but cross Piccadilly at eight, in my coach with a French Monsieur d’Angeul, whom I was carrying to Lady Hertford’s;