ity, so that the omnibuses and flys had enough to do.
Beer was to be had at the public-houses, almost without question, by
all who chose to ask for it; and rum and brandy were dispensed to
select circles within the bars with equal profusion. As for ribbons,
the mercers' shops must have been emptied of that article, as far as
scarlet and yellow were concerned. Scarlet was Sir Roger's colour,
while the friends of Mr Moffat were decked with yellow. Seeing what
he did see, Mr Moffat might well ask whether there had not been a
violation of the treaty of purity!

At the time of this election there was some question whether England
should go to war with all her energy; or whether it would not be
better for her to save her breath to cool her porridge, and not
meddle more than could be helped with foreign quarrels. The last view
of the matter was advocated by Sir Roger, and his motto of course
proclaimed the merits of domestic peace and quiet. "Peace abroad and
a big loaf at home," was consequently displayed on four or five huge
scarlet banners, and carried waving over the heads of the people. But
Mr Moffat was a staunch supporter of the Government, who were already
inclined to be belligerent, and "England's honour" was therefore the
legend under which he selected to do battle. It may, however, be
doubted whether there was in all Barchester one inhabitant--let alone
one elector--so fatuous as to suppose that England's honour was in
any special manner dear to Mr Moffat; or that he would be a whit more
sure of a big loaf than he was now, should Sir Roger happily become a
member of the legislature.

And then the fine arts were resorted to, seeing that language fell
short in telling all that was found necessary to be told. Poor Sir
Roger's failing as regards the bottle was too well known; and it was
also known that, in acquiring his title, he had not quite laid aside
the rough mode of speech which he had used in his early years. There
was, consequently, a great daub painted up on sundry walls, on which
a navvy, with a pimply, bloated face, was to be seen standing on a
railway bank, leaning on a spade holding a bottle in one hand, while
he invited a comrade to drink. "Come, Jack, shall us have a drop of
some'at short?" were the words coming out of the navvy's mouth; and
under this was painted in huge letters,

"THE LAST NEW BARONET."

But Mr Moffat hardly escaped on easier terms. The trade by which his
father had made his