f course, that the new candidate should bear as much as possible
of this drain. He knew well that there was a prospect before him
of abject misery;--for life without Parliament would be such to
him. There would be no salt left for him in the earth if he was
ousted. And yet no man could say why he should have cared to sit in
Parliament. He rarely spoke, and when he did no one listened to him.
He was anxious for no political measures. He was a favourite with no
section of a party. He spent all his evenings at the House, but it
can hardly be imagined that those evenings were pleasantly spent.
But he rubbed his shoulders against the shoulders of great men, and
occasionally stood upon their staircases. At any rate, such as was
the life, it was his life; and he had no time left to choose another.
He considered himself on this occasion pretty nearly sure to be
elected. He knew the borough and was sure. But then there was that
accursed system of petitioning, which according to his idea was
un-English, ungentlemanlike, and unpatriotic--"A stand-up fight, and
if you're licked--take it." That was his idea of what an election
should be.

Sir Thomas, who only just remembered the appearance of the man in the
House, at once took an extravagant dislike to him. It was abominable
to him to be called Underwood by a man who did not know him. It was
nauseous to him to be forced into close relations with a man who
seemed to him to be rough and ill-mannered. And, judging from what
he saw, he gave his colleague credit for no good qualities. Now Mr.
Griffenbottom had good qualities. He was possessed of pluck. He was
in the main good-natured. And though he could resent an offence with
ferocity, he could forgive an offence with ease. "Hit him hard, and
then have an end of it!" That was Mr. Griffenbottom's mode of dealing
with the offenders and the offences with which he came in contact.

In every house they entered Griffenbottom was at home, and Sir
Thomas was a stranger of whom the inmates had barely heard the name.
Griffenbottom was very good at canvassing the poorer classes. He said
not a word to them about politics, but asked them all whether they
didn't dislike that fellow Gladstone, who was one thing one day
and another thing another day. "By G----, nobody knows what he is,"
swore Mr. Griffenbottom over and over again. The women mostly said
that they didn't know, but they liked the blue. "Blues allays was
gallanter nor the yellow," said o