they stopped us, and bid us huzza.  I desired him to let down the glass on his side, but, as he was not alert, they broke it to shatters.  At night they insisted, in several streets, on houses being illuminated, and several Scotch refusing, had their windows broken.  Another mob rose in the City, and Harley, the present Mayor, being another Sir William Walworth, and having acted formerly and now with great spirit against Wilkes, and the Mansion House not being illuminated, and he out of town, they broke every window, and tried to force their way into the House.  The Trained Bands were sent for, but did not suffice.  At last a party of guards, from the Tower, and some lights erected, dispersed the tumult.  At one in the morning a riot began before Lord Bute’s house, in Audley Street, though illuminated.  They flung two large flints into Lady Bute’s chamber, who was in bed, and broke every window in the house.  Next morning, Wilkes and Cooke were returned members.  The day was very quiet, but at night they rose again, and obliged almost every house in town to be lighted up, even the Duke of Cumberland’s and Princess Amelia’s.  About one o’clock they marched to the Duchess of Hamilton’s in Argyle Buildings (Lord Lorn being in Scotland).  She was obstinate, and would not illuminate, though with child, and, as they hope, of an heir to the family, and with the Duke, her son, and the rest of her children in the house.  There is a small court and parapet wall before the house:  they brought iron crows, tore down the gates, pulled up the pavement, and battered the house for three hours.  They could not find the key of the back door, nor send for any assistance.  The night before, they had obliged the Duke and Duchess of Northumberland to give them beer, and appear at the windows, and drink “Wilkes’s health.”  They stopped and opened the coach of Count Seilern, the Austrian ambassador, who has made a formal complaint, on which the Council met on Wednesday night, and were going to issue a Proclamation, but, hearing that all was quiet, and that only a few houses were illuminated in Leicester Fields from the terror of the inhabitants, a few constables were sent with orders to extinguish the lights, and not the smallest disorder has happened since.  In short, it has ended like other election riots, and with not a quarter of the mischief that has been done in some other towns.

There are, however, difficulties to come.  Wilkes has notified that he intends to surrender himself to his outlawry, the beginning of next term, which comes on the 17th of this month.  There is said to be a flaw in the proceedings, in which case his election will be good, though the King’s Bench may fine or imprison him on his former sentence.  In my own opinion, the House of Commons is the place where he can do the least hurt, for he is a wretched speaker, and will sink to contempt, like Admiral Vernon,[1] who I remember just such an illuminated hero, with two birthdays in one year.  You will say, he can