left to let them
pass, and cheering vociferously. The first object of consideration was
to secure quarters for the night.

'Can we have beds here?' inquired Mr. Pickwick, summoning the waiter.

'Don't know, Sir,' replied the man; 'afraid we're full, sir--I'll
inquire, Sir.' Away he went for that purpose, and presently returned, to
ask whether the gentleman were 'Blue.'

As neither Mr. Pickwick nor his companions took any vital interest in
the cause of either candidate, the question was rather a difficult one
to answer. In this dilemma Mr. Pickwick bethought himself of his new
friend, Mr. Perker.

'Do you know a gentleman of the name of Perker?' inquired Mr. Pickwick.

'Certainly, Sir; Honourable Mr. Samuel Slumkey's agent.'

'He is Blue, I think?'

'Oh, yes, Sir.'

'Then WE are Blue,' said Mr. Pickwick; but observing that the man looked
rather doubtful at this accommodating announcement, he gave him his
card, and desired him to present it to Mr. Perker forthwith, if he
should happen to be in the house. The waiter retired; and reappearing
almost immediately with a request that Mr. Pickwick would follow him,
led the way to a large room on the first floor, where, seated at a long
table covered with books and papers, was Mr. Perker.

'Ah--ah, my dear Sir,' said the little man, advancing to meet him; 'very
happy to see you, my dear Sir, very. Pray sit down. So you have
carried your intention into effect. You have come down here to see an
election--eh?' Mr. Pickwick replied in the affirmative.

'Spirited contest, my dear sir,' said the little man.

'I'm delighted to hear it,' said Mr. Pickwick, rubbing his hands. 'I
like to see sturdy patriotism, on whatever side it is called forth--and
so it's a spirited contest?'

'Oh, yes,' said the little man, 'very much so indeed. We have opened all
the public-houses in the place, and left our adversary nothing but the
beer-shops-masterly stroke of policy that, my dear Sir, eh?' The little
man smiled complacently, and took a large pinch of snuff.

'And what are the probabilities as to the result of the contest?'
inquired Mr. Pickwick.

'Why, doubtful, my dear Sir; rather doubtful as yet,' replied the little
man. 'Fizkin's people have got three-and-thirty voters in the lock-up
coach-house at the White Hart.'

'In the coach-house!' said Mr. Pickwick, considerably astonished by this
second stroke of policy.

'They keep 'em locked up there till they want 'em,' resumed th