We have had crowds of visitors coming to pay their compliments to my uncle, who has the reputation of being enormously rich; and whether it be that there is really nothing to interest in the character of our neighbourhood, or that the heartlessness of an acquaintance formed on the ground of mere wealth, has nothing congenial with my disposition in the nature of its cement, I perhaps ought not to determine too hastily; but though we have seen a great many people, I have not as yet met with any who has left on my mind a distinct impression. I had often heard that the English are reserved, and I expected to find them silent. This is not the case as far as my experience extends; but were I to furnish a motto for the talkers who have fallen in my way, it should be “_beaucoup parler et rien dire_.” To be sure we have come at a bad time, for we are in the midst of an election for the county, which occupies every creature, rich and poor, to the exclusion of every topic unconnected with itself; and yet, though I have tried to interest myself in that which engages the attention of all, down to the little children who have got party badges for play-things, and have learned to shout for the candidates to which they severally belong, I have not heard a single syllable in which a stranger could sympathize--not a word of parliamentary fitness--no mention of head or heart that could induce one to hope for this one or the other amongst the combatants. I am sick of the sounds, “weight of influence, county men, borough interests, large estates, numerous tenantry,” &c.