o such thing, and you know it; hold your jaw," resumed Dick,
with imperious good-humour. "Let me go on, can't you?--time presses. In
a word, my nephew resolved to retire, if, at two o'clock this day, there
was no chance of returning both of us; and there is none. Now, then, the
next thing for the Yellows who have not yet voted, is to consider how
they will give their second votes. If I had been the man to retire,
why, for certain reasons, I should have recommended them to split with
Leslie,--a clever chap, and pretty considerable sharp."

"Hear, hear, hear!" cried the baron, lustily.

"But I'm bound to say that my nephew has an opinion of his own,--as an
independent Britisher, let him be twice your nephew, ought to have; and
his opinion goes the other way, and so does that of our Committee."

"Sold!" cried the baron; and some of the crowd shook their heads, and
looked grave,--especially those suspected of a wish to be bought.

"Sold! Pretty fellow you with the nosegay in your buttonhole to talk of
selling! You who wanted to sell your own client,--and you know it. [Levy
recoiled.] Why, gentlemen, that's Levy the Jew, who talks of selling!
And if he asperses the character of this constituency, I stand here to
defend it! And there stands the parish pump, with a handle for the arm
of Honesty, and a spout for the lips of Falsehood!"

At the close of this magniloquent period, borrowed, no doubt, from some
great American orator, Baron Levy involuntarily retreated towards the
shelter of the polling-booth, followed by some frowning Yellows with
very menacing gestures.

"But the calumniator sneaks away; leave him to the reproach of his
conscience," resumed Dick, with a generous magnanimity.

"SOLD! [the word rang through the place like the blast of a trumpet]
Sold! No, believe me, not a man who votes for Egerton instead
of Fairfield will, so far as I am concerned, be a penny the
better--[chilling silence]--or [with a scarce perceivable wink
towards the anxious faces of the Hundred and Fifty who filled the
background]--or a penny the worse. [Loud cheers from the Hundred and
Fifty, and cries of 'Noble!'] I don't like the politics of Mr. Egerton.
But I am not only a politician,--I am a MAN! The arguments of our
respected Committee--persons in business, tender husbands, and devoted
fathers--have weight with me. I myself am a husband and a father. If a
needless contest be prolonged to the last, with all the irritations
it engen