The following our conversation lately took place, between an influential agent (a keeper of a Chandlers shop,) of the patron of the old borough of Petersfield, and a voter residing at Ramsdean, within the new boundary :—
"Agent—Well, Master M–––d, I've sent your name in with the rest of the voters for Colonel Jolliffe.
"Voter—Then you may just draw my name out again, for I won't vote for none of the set. I'm for reform. I'm for Lefevre!
"Agent—If you don't vote for the Colonel, I cannot think of taking any more of your butter at my shop, which I have been in the habit of taking so long.
"Voter—Then you can't think of having any more of my ready money.
"Agent—You must vote, for I've sent your name to the head quarters as one of our independent voters, and you can't get out of it.
"Voter—But I wool get out of it, and you nor none of your crew can't hinder me, for there is no chalking between you and me in your shop; and since you have given me so much of your slack, and runs so windy, you shan't have any more of my butter nor any more of my money."