men wondering that he does not show more magnanimity.  He yawns while Pollock is speaking; a sign of weariness which, in their present relation to each other, he would do well to suppress.  He has said some very good, but very bitter, things.  There was a case of a lead-mine.  Pollock was for the proprietors, and complained bitterly of the encroachments which Brougham’s clients had made upon this property, which he represented as of immense value.  Brougham said that the estimate which his learned friend formed of the property was vastly exaggerated, but that it was no wonder that a person who found it so easy to get gold for his lead should appreciate that heavy metal so highly.  The other day Pollock laid down a point of law rather dogmatically.  “Mr. Pollock,” said Brougham, “perhaps, before you rule the point, you will suffer his Lordship to submit a few observations on it to your consideration.”

I received the Edinburgh paper which you sent me.  Silly and spiteful as it is, there is a little truth in it.  In such cases I always remember those excellent lines of Boileau

 “Moi, qu’une humeur trop libre, un esprit peu soumis,
  De bonne heure a pourvo d’utiles ennemis,
  Je dois plus a leur haine (il faut que je l’avoue)
  Qu’au faible et vain talent dont la France me loue. 
  Sitot que sur un vice un pensent me confondre,
  C’est en me guerissant que je sais leur repondre.”

This place disagrees so much with me that I shall leave it as soon as the dispersion of the circuit commences,—­that is, after the delivery of the last batch of briefs; always supposing, which may be supposed without much risk of mistake, that there are none for me.

Ever yours affectionately

T. B. M.

It was about this period that the Cambridge Senate came to a resolution to petition against the Catholic Claims.  The minority demanded a poll, and conveyed a hint to their friends in London.  Macaulay, with one or two more to help him, beat up the Inns of Court for recruits, chartered a stage-coach, packed it inside and out with young Whig Masters of Arts, and drove up King’s Parade just in time to turn the scale in favour of Emancipation.  The whole party dined in triumph at Trinity, and got back to town the same evening; and the Tory journalists were emphatic in their indignation at the deliberate opinion of the University having been overridden by a coachful of “godless and briefless barristers.”

Court House, Pomfret:  April 15, 1828.

My dear Mother,—­I address this epistle to you as the least undeserving of a very undeserving family.  You, I think, have sent me one letter since I left London.  I have nothing here to do but to write letters; and, what is not very often the case, I have members of Parliament in abundance to frank them, and abundance of matter to fill them with.  My Edinburgh expedition has given me so much to say that, unless I write off some of it before