almost
making a hole in it by screwing his thumb on to the spot he wished to
indicate.

Tappitt read the article, and his spirit was very bitter within
him. It was a criticism on his own beer written in no friendly tone.
"There is no reason," said the article, "why Baslehurst should be
flooded with a liquor which no Christian ought to be asked to drink.
Baslehurst is as capable of judging good beer from bad as any town in
the British empire. Let Mr. Tappitt look to it, or some young rival
will spring up beneath his feet and seize from his brow the hop-leaf
wreath which Bungall won and wore." This attack was the more cruel
because the paper had originally been established by Bungall's
money, and had, in old days, been altogether devoted to the Bungall
interest. That this paper should turn against him was very hard. But
what else had he a right to expect? It was known that he had promised
his vote to the Jew candidate, and the paper in question supported
the Cornbury interest. A man that lives in a glass house should throw
no stones. The brewer who brews bad beer should vote for nobody.

But Tappitt would not regard this attack upon him in its proper
political light. Every evil at present falling upon him was
supposed to come from his present enemy. "It's that dirty underhand
blackguard," he said to the foreman.

"I don't think so, Mr. Tappitt," said the foreman. "I don't think so
indeed."

"But I tell you it is," said Tappitt, "and I don't care what you
think."

"Just as you please, Mr. Tappitt," said the foreman, who thereupon
retired from the office, leaving his master to meditate over the
newspaper in solitude.

It was a very bitter time for the poor brewer. He was one of those
men whose spirit is not wanting to them while the noise and tumult
of contest are around them, but who cannot hold on by their own
convictions in the quiet hours. He could storm, and talk loud, and
insist on his own way while men stood around him listening and
perhaps admiring; but he was cowed when left by himself to think of
things which seemed to be adverse. What could he do, if those around
him, who had known him all his life as those newspaper people had
known him,--what could he do if they turned against him, and talked
of bad beer as Rowan had talked? He was not man enough to stand up
and face this new enemy unless he were backed by his old friends.
Honyman had told him that he would be beaten. How would it fare with
him and hi