s at all
the rum mills into the ward. I didn't find out his game till about two
o'clock in the afternoon, and then I tried it myself. But I was too
late. He had six hours' start of me, and beat me by five hundred
drinks--I mean votes."

Mr. Quigg nodded, and said, "Of course," as if he had often heard of
such instances, and there was nothing surprising in them. He then
abruptly cut off the Captain's political reminiscences, by unlocking the
store and entering it. After a few minutes' absence, he returned with a
half-gallon jug and a tin dipper.

"A nice, fat little feller," rapturously exclaimed Captain Tonkins,
taking the proffered jug. Placing it in the bottom of the sleigh, where
such of the public as were stirring in that vicinity could not see the
operation, he half filled the tin dipper, and, raising it suddenly to
his mouth, drank the contents with a double gulp. "Prime stuff, that,"
said the Captain, smacking his lips. "A hogshead of it would make a
school commissioner, an alderman, mebbe a major of you, Quigg."

"I dare say," said Quigg. "But what would a dull, practical fellow like
me be good for in public life?" This was Quigg's habitual way of
depreciating himself, and it always impressed the hearer with a sense of
Quigg's eminent ability.

Quigg then drew a pair of yellow gloves on his large, hairy hands,
slightly ripping the two thumbs and most of the fingers in the
operation, took a seat in the double sleigh, and proclaimed himself
ready to start.

CHAPTER V.

PLEASURE AS BUSINESS.

Captain Tonkins cracked his whip with professional sonority over the
heads of his lively horses, and they started off at a slapping pace,
which brought them to the house of the three friends before the bells
had fairly begun to jingle in unison. The door was instantly opened, and
Overtop and Maltboy presented themselves, dressed in the most elaborate
and captivating style. Marcus Wilkeson appeared just behind them, in his
dressing gown and slippers, calmly smoking his well-browned Meerschaum.

After the salutations of the day, both Overtop and Maltboy addressed a
last appeal to Marcus to give up his ridiculous prejudices, and join the
party; but he obstinately refused, saying that he should make only one
call, and that was upon the old gentleman over the way.

The arrangements for the day had already been made. The party were to
call on a few dozen of Quigg's customers (selected from a carefully
prepared list o