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Book, page 141 / 248 am glad to tell you that Lord Longford's troubles are over; he is now here, and has just been telling us that his victory for Colonel Hercules was as complete as his heart could wish. There would have been a duel but for Admiral Pakenham. One gentleman in his speech said that another had made the drummer of his corps play "Protestant Boys." The other said, "That's a lie;" and both were proceeding to high words, when the Admiral stepped between them, and said, very gravely, "Gentlemen, I did not know this meeting was a music meeting, but since you appeal to us electors to decide your cause by your musical merits, let the past be past; and now for the present give us each of you a song, and here's the sheriff,"--who has no more ear than a post--"shall be judge between you." Everybody laughed, and the two angry gentlemen had to laugh off their quarrel. Another gentleman said to the Admiral, after the election was over, "Do you know, I had a mind to have stood myself; if I had, what would you have said?"--"That it was all a game of brag, and that, as you had the shuffling of the pack, there was no knowing what knave might turn up." Lord Longford told us of Colonel Hercules Pakenham, at the siege of Badajos, walking with an engineer. A bomb whizzed over their heads and fell among the soldiers, as they were carrying off the wounded. When the Colonel expressed some regret, the engineer said, "I wonder you have not steeled your mind to these things. These men are carried to the hospital, and others come in their place. Let us go to the depot." Here the engineer had his wheelbarrows all laid out in nice order, and his pickaxes arranged in stars and various shapes; but, just as they were leaving the depot, a bomb burst in the midst of them. "Oh, heavenly powers, my picks!" cried the engineer, with clasped hands, in despair. _To_ C. SNEYD EDGEWORTH, IN DUBLIN. EDGEWORTHSTOWN, _Feb. 10, 1813._ _Rokeby_ is, in my opinion--and let every soul speak for themselves--most beautiful poetry: the four first cantos and half the fifth are all I have yet read. I think it a higher and better, because less Scotch, more universal style of poetry than any Walter Scott has yet produced, though not altogether perfect of its kind. It has more
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