THE PICKV/ICK CLUB. 123
" I am delighted to hear it," said Mr. Pickwick, rubbing his hands
- ' I like to see sturdy patriotism, on whatever side it is called forth ; —
and so it's a spirited contest ? "
" Oh yes," said the little man, " very much so indeed. We have opened all the public houses in the place, and left our adversary nothing but the beer-shops — masterly stroke of policy that, my dear Sir, eh ? " — and the little man smiled complacently, and took a large pinch of snuff.
" And what are the probabilities as to the result of the contest ? ' inquired Mr. Pickwick.
" Why doubtful, my dear Sir ; rather doubtful as yet," replied the little man. " Fizkin's people have got three-and-thirty voters in the lock-up coach-house at the White Hart."
" In the coach-house ! " said Mr. Pickwick, considerably astonished by this second stroke of policy.
" They keep 'em locked up there, till they want 'em," resumed the little man. " The effect of that is, you see, to prevent our getting at them ; and even if we could, it would be of no use, for they keep them very drunk on purpose. Smart fellow Fizkin's agent — very smart fellow indeed."
Mr. Pickwick stared, but said nothing.
" We are pretty confident, though," said Mr. Perker, sinking his voice almost to a whisper. " We had a little tea-party here, last night — five-and-forty women, my dear Sir — and gave every one of 'em a green parasol when she went away."
" A parasol ! " said Mr. Pickwick.
" Fact, my dear Sir, fact. Five-and-forty green parasols, at seven and six-pence a-piece. All women like finery, — extraordinary the effect of those parasols. Secured all their husbands, and half their brothers — beats stockings, and flannel, and all that sort of thing hollow. My idea, my dear Sir, entirely. Hail, rain, or sunshine, you can't walk half a dozen yards up the street, without encountering half a dozen green parasols."
Here the little man indulged in a convulsion of mirth, which was only checked by the entrance of a third party.
This was a tall, thin man, with a sandy-coloured head inclined to baldness, and a face in which solemn importance was blended with a look of unfathomable profundity. He was dressed in a long brown surtout, with a black cloth waistcoat, and drab trousers. A double eye-glass dangled at his waistcoat: and on his head he wore a very low-crowned hat with a broad brim. The new comer was introduced to Mr. Pick- wick as Mr. Pott, the editor of the Eatanswill Gazette. After a few preliminary remarks, Mr. Pott turned round to Mr. Pickwick, and said with solemnity —
" This contest excites great interest in the metropolis, Sir ? "
" I believe it does," said Mr. Pickwick.
" To which I have reason to know," said Pott, looking towards Mr. Perker for corroboration, — to which I have reason to know my article of last Saturday in some degree contributed."
