what he now saw to a neglected old soldier
out of service, with his regimentals worn
threadbare and soiled; and turned on his
heel with the indignant remark that "this
whole church is so slovenly and dirtily kept
that a stranger woidd judge that these
stewards of the Lord's inheritance regarded
the revenues more than the repairs of the
mansion house." But if such was the shock
conveyed to him by want of due repairs in
the Church, it was at least equalled by the
impression which waited him next morning
of repairs as cryingly wanted in the State.
He had started early on a visit to Stonehenge,
when, about three miles from the city on the
right hand, an eminence apparently of an
oval figure including about sixty acres was
pointed out to him, without a sign upon it of
a habitation fit for man; and he was told
that while the most populous manufacturing
cities had no voice in the legislature of
England, the possessor of this mound of grass
and ruin had the power to send two members
to represent and protect his mere breeches-
pocket in that dignified assembly. It was the
fine ancient borough of Old Sarum.

But Old Sarum paled an ineffectual fire
before the exciting scene that awaited this
admirer of English institutions at the last
resting point in his journey. He arrived at
Exeter, after another spirited ride of ninety
miles in seventeen hours, in the midst of a
contested election. The seat had been vacated
by Mr. Waters; Mr. Baring and Mr. Cholwich
were the new competitors for it, in the
interests respectively of Church and
Corporation; and to the innocent inexperience of
Mr. Curwen an astounding scene presented
itself. All the public-houses were open to
the partizans of either candidate. In some of
them were voters locked up, secured by bolts
and bars, and watched zealously day and
night to secure their free and independent
presence at the polling booths. From others,
in the very teeth of bars and bolts, voters
fetched and secured from great distances by
one party had yet been secretly and suddenly
"spirited away" by the other, whether or
not to re-appear on polling day remained an
inscrutable mystery. From morn to dewy
eve corporation-clerks were creating voters.
As the election approached, the constituency
had mounted up to fourteen hundred; but of
these, two hundred held themselves honourably
aloof from the general disgrace, unconcerned
whether "Baring or Cholwich be the tool of
Administration"; while, secure alike of either
tool, the Administration was under pledge, as
Mr. Curwen heard on all sides, to contribute
five thousand pounds to the expenses of the
successful man. In other words, in the sole
person of the leading Minister were concentrated,
with much saving of trouble and perhaps
some of expense, the Coppock, Brown, Beresford,
Flewker, and Frail, of those more primitive
and less complicated days of corruption.
And so the scene went on—"the contest fierce,
some wounds and broken heads, but no
deaths, and enough to convince me of the
deplorable venality of the nation." The
winners in this particular venal race, it may
be added, notwithstanding the strenuous
efforts of Cholwich and the Corporation,
turned out to be Baring and the Church,
who came in first by no less than a hundred
and one votes; and on the morning of his
departure, Mr. Curwen left the whole city of
Exeter decked out in blue and purple favours,
displaying the Baring device, and actually, as
well as metaphorically, drunk with joy. Nor
could anything have been happier than that
Baring device, whether as an expression of
the nature as well as name of the fortunate
candidate, or as a compliment of exquisite
delicacy at once to the member secured and
the minister who had secured him. Enamelled
pendant on a blue ribbon appeared a bear
with a ring in his nose.

It is not matter of surprise, then, that
Mr. Curwen should have carried away with
him no very agreeable impression of Exeter.
He computes the population as scarcely seven-
eighths as numerous as that of his native
Boston, but finds as little resemblance in the
buildings of the two cities as in the wrinkled
features of fourscore and the florid complexion
of thirty. He pronounces the streets narrow,
ill-paved, and dirty enough to pass into a
proverb; if there were any good buildings,
they were crowded in a corner, out of sight,
—as perhaps the good people were also; for
such of them in private as Mr. Curwen saw,
he thought proud, unsocial, and solitary,
neither conversible nor hospitable. Still
there was something to set off against all
this, for a man of sociable tastes; as for
example, "a theatre, concerts, a coffee-house
called Moll's, and an hotel, both in the churchyard,
where the London papers are brought
four days in the week";—and such was
afterwards the scant success of Mr. Curwen's
persevering search for his temporary home, that
the day soon came when even Exeter, with
all its faults, was "a very Paradise to
Manchester" or any town in the North that he
had seen.

Not yet, however, has he seen the North,
for, after a brief stay with a friend at
Sidmouth, he is next to be found at Bristol. His
impression of Bristol was not immediately
formed, yet appears to have had sufficient
promise in it to bring him back for another
trial, on the recommendation of certain friends
who had settled there, after a couple of visits
to some of the northern towns. For, after
brief stay, he went from Bristol, through
Newport, Gloucester, Upton, and Worcester,
to Birmingham; of which he said at once, as
the best observers familiar with both places
have since repeatedly said, "it looks more
like Boston in its general appearance than
any place in England." This disposes him to
like Birmingham, though it will not suit
him to live there; and what he sees of its