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Elisha Cuthbert Photos Books: Martin Eden The Pickwick Papers The Sea Wolf |
Slumkey?whispered Mr. Tupman.
I dont know, replied Mr. Pickwick, in the same tone. Hush.
Dont ask any questions. Its always best on these occasions to
do what the mob do.
But suppose there are two mobs? suggested Mr. Snodgrass.
Shout with the largest, replied Mr. Pickwick.
Volumes could not have said more.
They entered the house, the crowd opening right and 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.
Dont know, Sir, replied the man; afraid were full, sir--Ill
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 Slumkeys 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.
Im 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 its 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. Fizkins 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 Fizkins
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--beats stockings, and flannel, and all that sort of thing
hollow. My idea, my dear Sir, entirely. Hail, rain, or sunshine,
you cant walk half a dozen yards up the street, without
encountering half a dozen green parasols.
Here the little man indulged in a convulsion of mirth, which
was only checked by the entrance of a third party.
This was a tall, thin man, with a sandy-coloured head inclined
to baldness, and a face in which solemn importance was blended
with a look of unfathomable profundity. He was dressed in a
long brown surtout, with a black cloth waistcoat, and drab
trousers. A double eyeglass dangled at his waistcoat; and on his
head he wore a very low-crowned hat with a broad brim.
The new-comer was introduced to Mr. Pickwick as Mr. Pott,
the editor of the Eatanswill GAZETTE. After a few preliminary
remarks, Mr. Pott turned round to Mr. Pickwick, and said with
solemnity--
This contest excites great interest in the metropolis, sir?
I believe it does, said Mr. The Pickwick Papers page 77 The Pickwick Papers page 79 |