To what sum the whole expenditure may
have actually amounted we cannot pretend
to know; but, Mr. Pitt did not scruple to say,
"If we carry the election, we shall not think
much of a hundred and fifty thousand
pounds." A general invitation was given
from both sides to a breakfast, at which in
each parish some man of rank was advertised
to preside. Wine, spirits, and beer took the
place of coffee and tea, and hundreds of
electors voted while in a wild state of drunkenness.
A committee of the House of Commons
afterwards sat three months and three days,
to inquire into a petition against Lord John
Townshend's election. It was finally
resolved that he was duly elected, and that
neither the petition nor the opposition was
frivolous nor vexatious. This inquiry cost
Lord Hood's party more than fourteen
thousand pounds, and each party had to pay
their own expenses. Lady Chatham, wife
of the first Lord of the Admiralty, and sister
to the premier, when the contest was over,
audited the bills of public-houses opened on
account of Lord Hood, and collected the
greater part of those accounts. An action
was afterwards brought in the King's Bench,
in July, seventeen hundred and ninety-one,
by one Smith, who had acted as agent to Lord
Hood, against George Rose, Secretary to the
Treasury, for services rendered to Lord
Hood. The jury gave a verdict for the whole
demand of the plaintiff, declaring themselves
satisfied that Smith had performed election
services agaist Lord John Townshend, at
the request of the Secretary of the Treasury.
This matter and another notorious act of the
Treasury was debated in the House of
Commons, May the third, seventeen hundred and
ninety-two.

The rioting at this election was attributed
to the introduction of Lord Hood's sailors, who
numbered more than five hundred, and were
led on by officers. Two pitched-battles took
place between the seamen and the chairmen,
and the former were severely handled and
driven back to Wapping. The list of wounded
and killed in the several conflicts was daily
published, and each side accused the other of
being the cause of the riots. Fifty were taken
to Middlesex Hospital; fifty-seven to St.
George's; nineteen to St. Bartholomew's;
twenty-five to Wapping; and one hundred
and two to various medical men. Out of the
number, ten died, and the majority were
dangerously hurt. The King's Head, in
St. James's Street, was sacked. The Blue
Posts, in Bond Street; the Rose and
Crown, in Downing Street; the Coach and
Horses, in Conduit Street, and the Cannon
Coffee House, at Charing Cross; suffered
damages.

An inscription painted on the hustings,
said, "For a true state of the Polls, on both
sides, inquire at the hospitals and
infirmaries."

We have not too much to be proud of, in
the results of our parliamentary elections at
present; but, at least the elections themselves
are better ordered, and present no such scenes
of national disgrace and iniquity.

A FEW PLEASANT FRENCH
GENTLEMEN.

IN the time of the First Empire, among the
forçats, or convicts, of the Bagne at Rochefort,
was one named Cognard; a man of remarkable
courage and decided good breeding. One day
Cognard was missing. He had slipped his
chains and flung away his bullet, and the
guns of Rochefort thundered after him in
vain. Cognard got safe away to Spain; and
though the gardes chiourmes (the guards of
the Bagne) twirled their moustaches and sacréd
in right royal style, the forçat was beyond
their reach.

Cognard, as a gentleman travelling for
pleasure, became acquainted with the family
of the Count Pontis de Sainte Hélène. The
acquaintance ripened into intimacy, and the
pleasant French gentleman who had so much
to say on every subject, was soon rarely
absent from the count's château. But, sorrow
fell on the hospitable Spaniard. One by
one, mysteriously and as if they were
pursued by some relentless fate, every member
of the Pontis family disappeared. Sudden
deaths and lingering deaths, nameless diseases
and horrible accidents, cut them off one by
one; the pleasant French gentleman always at
the side of the sufferers, soothing the dying
with rare drugs; and generally at hand in time
to see, but not to prevent, each catastrophe.
Did any light break in upon the last
Pontis, as he lay on his bed of death, slowly
following the rest of his brave kindred,
and the French gentleman mixed him
draughts and prepared him potions, and
learnt from him all the particulars necessary
for conveyancing and managing his estate?
Did one look of triumph from those cruel
eyes ever revealed the fatal tragedy to the
dying man?  Cognard never confessed
this; all he told was, that as soon as the
Spaniard was dead, he possessed himself of
the jewels, plate, and money left; of the
title-deeds of the estate, and of the patent
of nobility. And, with these, fully armed now
for the great contest of life, he entered the
Spanish army as sub-lieutenant Count Pontis
de Sainte Hélène.

In a short time he was raised to the
rank of chef-d'escadron; and after
having distinguished himself gallantly at
Monte Video, he was made lieutenant-
colonel. However, he could not quite
subdue his ancient propensities; having
entangled himself in a pecuniary
misdirection, he was arrested; but, twice he
managed to escape. On the second
occasion, he put himself at the head of a
brave band of French prisoners of war;
seized a Spanish brig; passed into France;
and, by virtue of his courage and his name,