We reached the Town-hall soon after the business of the day was begun; it was crammed to suffocation, and a great many persons who could not gain admission, were standing at the outside. By the assistance of my friend Akerman, I contrived to get near enough to the entrance of the hall, to expostulate with the Sheriff, for attempting to hold a county meeting in such a confined situation; adding, that a great number of people were totally excluded, and amongst that number was Mr. Richard Long, one of the Members for the county. Upon this, Mr. Long replied, that he was very well off, and that he did not wish to gain admittance. This, to be sure, caused a great laugh, but I persevered by moving an adjournment, and after a great deal of noise and squabbling, the Sheriff agreed to adjourn the meeting to the Market-place, whither we proceeded, and Mr. Sheriff Penruddock took his station upon the steps of the Market-cross, where he was surrounded by such a gang of desperadoes as never disgraced a meeting of highwaymen and pickpockets in the purlieus of St. Giles's. This gang was headed by the notorious John Benett, of Pyt-House, from whom they took the word of command, when to be silent and when to bellow, hoot, hallow, and make all sorts of discordant vulgar noises, such as would have degraded and lowered the character of a horde of drunken prostitutes and pickpockets, in the most abandoned brothel in the universe.--The plan of operations had been previously arranged, and a set of wretches had hired themselves, to play the most disgraceful and disgusting part. Lord Pembroke, the Lord Lieutenant of the county, had ordered and commanded all his tenantry, and even his tradesmen, to attend the meeting to oppose HUNT. A butcher at Wilton, who served his Lordship's family with meat, pleaded his previous engagements on business of importance, as an excuse for his non-attendance; but he was informed by his Lordship's agent, that if he did not appear at Devizes, to oppose any proposition that was made by _Hunt_, he should never serve the family at Wilton-house with another joint of meat. The gang thus raked together was led on by regular leaders; Black Jack, alias the Devil's Knitting Needle, was commander in chief; Bob Reynolds, a scamping currier of Devizes, who was a sort of lickspittle to Old Salmon, the attorney, was bully major; and a jolter-headed farmer, of the name of Chandler, who lived on the Green, was captain of a gang of little dirty toad-eaters of the corporation; in fact, every scamp who lived upon the taxes--every scrub who had an eye to a place--and every lickspittle of the corrupt knaves of the corrupt and vile rotten-borough of Devizes, took a part in these un-Englishman-like, partial, cowardly, and disgraceful proceedings. Every expectant underling, every dirty, petty-fogging scoundrel showed his teeth, opened his vulgar mouth, and sent forth the most nauseous and disgusting ribaldry. A time-serving, place-hunting, fawning address to