. Westmacott to Kirkham.

"No a bit of it," said Kirkham. "I could spot all the ringleaders in
the row. Nine or ten of them are Griffenbottom's old men. They take
his money regularly,--get something nearly every year, join the rads
at the nomination, and vote for the squire at the poll. The chaps who
hollow and throw stones always vote t'other side up."

Mr. Griffenbottom kept his seat till he could be carried home
in safety through the town, and was then put to bed. The three
conservative doctors, who had all been setting Sir Thomas's arm, sat
in consultation upon their old friend; and it was acknowledged on
every side that Mr. Griffenbottom was very ill indeed. All manner of
rumours went through the town that night. Some believed that both
Griffenbottom and Sir Thomas were dead,--and that the mayor had now
no choice but to declare Moggs and Westmacott elected. Then there
arose a suspicion that the polls would be kept open on the morrow
on behalf of two defunct candidates, so that a further election on
behalf of the conservative party might be ensured. Men swore that
they would break into the bedrooms of the Standard Inn, in order that
they might satisfy themselves whether the two gentlemen were alive or
dead. And so the town was in a hubbub.

On that evening Moggs was called upon again to address his friends at
the Mechanics' Institute, and to listen to the speeches of all the
presidents and secretaries and chairmen; but by ten o'clock he was
alone in his bedroom at the Cordwainers' Arms. Down-stairs men were
shouting, singing, and drinking,--shouting in his honour, though not
drinking at his expense. He was alone in his little comfortless room,
but felt it to be impossible that he should lie down and rest. His
heart was swelling with the emotions of the day, and his mind was
full of his coming triumph. It was black night, and there was a soft
drizzling rain;--but it was absolutely necessary for his condition
that he should go out. It seemed to him that his very bosom would
burst, if he confined himself in that narrow space. His thoughts were
too big for so small a closet. He crept downstairs and out, through
the narrow passage, into the night. Then, by the light of the
solitary lamp that stood before the door of the public-house, he
could still see those glorious words, "Moggs, Purity, and the Rights
of Labour." Noble words, which had sufficed to bind to him the whole
population of that generous-hearted borough! P