ridicule, and banter, were shot forth against it in the newspapers, in which he took part, and these were afterwards collected into a volume (Baratariana) with some effect. We have an indistinct glance at Edmond after he had been some time in Dublin through his friend Chetwood, who seems to have been transferred to a new scene in the south of Ireland, little in unison with his tastes.
Skull, near Skibbereen, Feb. 10, 1768.
At last I address you from my own abode, heartily sorry to write to you from any greater distance than from the college to George Street, for I am sick of solitude and a sequestered rural life already. I was concerned at the necessity I was under of leaving town without seeing you; and the more so, as I had something which I wished to converse with you upon before my departure from Dublin. But that must be the subject of a future interview, or of a future letter. I heard from our friend Southwell last week; his account of himself is a very favourable one, and he seems to write in good spirits. I hear Lord Southwell is to be created Earl Belingsly.
I know you repine at your change of situation from London to our metroplis—not without reason. This ought to raise your compassion for me who am removed in effect out of the world, and as it is in your power in a great measure to introduce me into company, I can’t help being so unreasonable as to beg you will do it by informing me what is transacting in life, of parliamentary anecdotes particularly, of which I don’t know a man better informed.
I am at present quite out of spirits; I am ashamed to own it, but cannot help it. Philosophy does not always avail to correct constitution. I exert the little portion I can. I believe at last I must have recourse to one of my garrets and the Muse, to induce an oblivium vitæ præteritæ. Adieu! Write to me soon, and in the meantime believe me, my dear Ned, your unalterable J. C.
From this presumed familiarity with political mat-
