(1780,) Sept. 11, Monday morning, 7 o'clock, Matson.--You will receive a long letter from me to-day; and this will come to you on Wednesday; so by these repeated courtesies you will see that I have no repugnance to writing, although you have, and that I am very well pleased to go on in my old way of scribbling, as long as I am convinced that it is agreeable to you. But a line now and then is comfortable, for, as Lady Macbeth says, "the feast grows cold that is not often cheered," or something of that sort; so a correspondence is awkwardly maintained, and is a contradiction in terms when it is on one side only. At present I am afraid that I shall be particularly tiresome, because, much against my will, they have filled my head with Election matters, and will not allow me a moment's time for anything else. I have no comfort, but that it will be concluded on Thursday, or Friday, but till then, what I shall suffer from folly and impertinence, and from everything that is disagreeable, cannot be described. There is a party here called the True Blues, who lead Sir A. H. and I (me) about, as if they had purchased us, to show in a fair. They cost me, some years ago, twice two thousand pounds, by opposing me, and now are doing all they can to make me pay four for befriending me; and these people have given Administration such an idea of their own omnipotence that I should have never been forgiven, if I had not yielded to this importunity. I am assured that it will succeed, and that both Sir A. and myself shall be returned, but my credulity does not extend to that point. It is very probable, indeed, that by this effort I may retain my own seat, which I did not care for, but to attempt the other does as yet appear to me a great piece of extravagance, considering the party which we have to contend with, who have had their secrets well kept, and been very industrious for two years in bringing about this opposition, whereas this scheme of the Tories has not been taken up with any support, but a fortnight ago. My best and ablest friends here are dead; their survivors supine and superannuated; their connections new Whigs and Reformers, and Associators; myself grown quite indifferent upon the point; and the principal Tories, such as the Duke of Beaufort, &c., and those who would have been active, if they had been desired to be so half a year ago, never spoke to. Mr. Robinson,(144) in his letters to me, has always spoke in the plural number, our friend and I; so it is a scheme adopted by both, I am to suppose, and a hazardous one it is. But one Member they will have, I believe, and I wish they had fixed upon any one but me to be their choice.