ent of a contested election, and found their way to the
agent's room.

"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 the little
man. "The effect of that is, you see, to prevent our getting at them;
and even if we could, it would be of no use, for they keep them very
drunk on purpose. Smart fellow Fizkin's agent--very smart fellow
indeed."

Mr. Pickwick stared, but said nothing.

"We are pretty confident, though," said Mr. Perker, sinking his voice
almost to a whisper. "We had a little tea-party here last night--five-
and-forty women, my dear sir--and gave every one of 'em a green
parasol when she went away."

"A parasol?" said Mr. Pickwick.

"Fact, my dear sir, fact. Five-and-forty green parasols at seven and
sixpence a-piece. All women like finery--extraordinary the effect of
those parasols. Secured all their husbands, and half their
brothers--beat stockings, and flannel, and all that sort of thing
hollow. My idea, my dear sir, entirely. Hail, rain, or sunshine, you
can't walk half-a-dozen yards up the street without encountering half-
a-dozen green parasols."

On the day of the election the stable yard exhibited unequivocal
symptoms of the gl