glory and splendour whereof, he, Mr. Tulrumble,
was greatly mortified, inasmuch as the reflection would force itself on
his mind, that, had he been born in London instead of in Mudfog, he might
have been a Lord Mayor too, and have patronized the judges, and been
affable to the Lord Chancellor, and friendly with the Premier, and coldly
condescending to the Secretary to the Treasury, and have dined with a
flag behind his back, and done a great many other acts and deeds which
unto Lord Mayors of London peculiarly appertain. The more he thought of
the Lord Mayor, the more enviable a personage he seemed. To be a King
was all very well; but what was the King to the Lord Mayor! When the
King made a speech, everybody knew it was somebody else's writing;
whereas here was the Lord Mayor, talking away for half an hour-all out of
his own head--amidst the enthusiastic applause of the whole company,
while it was notorious that the King might talk to his parliament till he
was black in the face without getting so much as a single cheer. As all
these reflections passed through the mind of Mr. Nicholas Tulrumble, the
Lord Mayor of London appeared to him the greatest sovereign on the face
of the earth, beating the Emperor of Russia all to nothing, and leaving
the Great Mogul immeasurably behind.

Mr. Nicholas Tulrumble was pondering over these things, and inwardly
cursing the fate which had pitched his coal-shed in Mudfog, when the
letter of the corporation was put into his hand. A crimson flush mantled
over his face as he read it, for visions of brightness were already
dancing before his imagination.

'My dear,' said Mr. Tulrumble to his wife, 'they have elected me, Mayor
of Mudfog.'

'Lor-a-mussy!' said Mrs. Tulrumble: 'why what's become of old Sniggs?'

'The late Mr. Sniggs, Mrs. Tulrumble,' said Mr. Tulrumble sharply, for he
by no means approved of the notion of unceremoniously designating a
gentleman who filled the high office of Mayor, as 'Old Sniggs,'--'The
late Mr. Sniggs, Mrs. Tulrumble, is dead.'

The communication was very unexpected; but Mrs. Tulrumble only ejaculated
'Lor-a-mussy!' once again, as if a Mayor were a mere ordinary Christian,
at which Mr. Tulrumble frowned gloomily.

'What a pity 'tan't in London, ain't it?' said Mrs. Tulrumble, after a
short pause; 'what a pity 'tan't in London, where you might have had a
show.'

'I _might_ have a show in Mudfog, if I thought proper, I apprehend,' said
Mr. Tulrumbl