The Remarkable History of Sir Thomas Upmore, bart., M.P., formerly known as Tommy Upmore""

ittle accident. Upon his return, one winter night, from a meeting in St. Pancras, not only of a liberal, but a wildly generous character, somebody tripped him up, and stole his watch,

evidence to move him one hair's breadth from the true conclusions poured into hi

, calling upon the people behind him to rob the people in front of him, if he had not undergone the bad luck to be robbed himself. When he came to speak of this, among his friends, not one of them failed to express deep sorr

ined that degree, by adulterating the victuals of the working man. However, he smothered his common sense,

e [that none of his men might be there to hear him], my dear father gave a stamp, and found it fall upon something soft and dull. He felt himself more at home through this, having so much soft stuff round his vats, and his eloquence mounted to full swell, till he wanted to jump to give emphasis. This he att

om the stamp of his heel, and the crown chock-full of heads for speech, and demolitionist statistics. He examined his hat, a

t his old hat had come down from heaven, if only his new hat, bought last Friday, had been left for him to go home with. That, however, was not the case; his new hat managed to leave that great

ch people, more often than it is repeated-except to explain what it was t

principles, a contested election for Marylebone. By means of their noble organization, the Liberals knew, from the outset, that the battle of freedom was sure to be won; or, as our people put it, rank bribery and corruption, truckling and swilling would defeat the right. Nevertheless, a just hope was entertained, on both sides, of a very lively contest, and a fair occasion (without legal interventio

ples. They knew that for nearly three hundred and fifty yards, the inhabitants were all true-Blue, beginning with the Indigo factory on the South, and going all through the ash-heaps, and ending with my father. But in the wantonness of triumph, when their majo

ef was stuck on poles, even bigger than the skewers he weighed it out with; every drop in the cellars of the Conservative Hotel ran uphill inside a big Radical, and Mr. John Windsor lost soap enough pretty nearly to clean half the Liberals. However, he contrived to get over a back wall, together with his

ing his vote, and knocking down a man who was anxious to do the like to him; but now it

oise coming up the Lane, "this is what I call coming it too strong. Mrs. Wind

y dear, you require a stimulant, however much you dislike it. But, Upmore, d

kind; "please not to lose a moment in hauling down your flag; it is f

earth! Ladies, go down to the cellar, and keep quiet. You will have no one here, while my flag is flying. Mr. Windsor is a man of high

ked him out, and pulled out the key; but mother was always severe upon him, because of his wholesal

'Great unwashed;' if there happens to be a bit of fire left. My men are all away, the same as yours-or else these fellows would not come to sack us. I gave them the quarter-day to vote, the same as you did with yours; and mine are gone the right colour to a man,

What a glorious fellow you are, Bubb

ts are right, while I get up stea

ed with struts against the styles; so that all the men who could get at them must take at least five minutes to

e-inch pipe, and therefore as handy as a walking-stick. You put your nozzle upon that trestle, commanding the back doors, while I keep ready

erhaps (although he had got his coat off) from working so hard while he was fat, and with terrible Liberal screech

st. It will only make their eyes sharp, and their faces clean, as they should be on a holiday. No white feather, John Windsor, now! Ah, they've fetched the blacksmith, as I knew they would. Think

answered, with his courage up; "whatever you order shall be

, supposing they've the cheek to try one. This engine works a double hose, you s

her always paid him ready money-had prized one heavy gate

ur scurvy flag;" cried the lea

y b'iler!" cried a hundred dirty

nder his arm, and a rod in his right hand to put the pressure on; "if you come a yard further, you shall taste the boiler. Only let bla

les at them. In a long white column, flew the scalding fluid, spreading, like a sheaf, when it met their faces, and coating every man of them with poisonous gray froth. No man could swear, for his mouth was bunged up; and no man could strike, for his arms were stuck to him, with a weight of deposit, like a stalactite. Good stearine it was, of the value of at least three halfpence a

eformers, stand shoulder to shoulder; as one of your writers h

litics might be-and wrapping their bulls' eyes up in, "The lay of the soporific soap-boilers." The Radicals bore this satire well, having had their own way in everything, and laughed on the right side of their mouths; and even the men, who had been cased in grease, made a good thing of it, when they scraped themselves, by going to the rag-and-bone-shops. Yet, as bad luck would have it, the leading mind among them-that of Mr. Joe Cowl, the Master-sweep-was not content, and broke out into a summons at the Clerkenwell Poli