“Yes,” said his attendant, “every man slept vere he fell down; we dragged ’em out, one by one, this mornin’, and put ’em under the pump, and they’re in reg’lar fine order, now. Shillin’ a head the committee paid for that ’ere job.”
“Can such things be!” exclaimed the astonished Mr. Pickwick.
“Lord bless your heart, sir,” said Sam, “why, where was you half baptized?—that’s nothin’, that an’t.”
“Nothing?” said Mr. Pickwick.
“Nothin’ at all, sir,” replied his attendant. “The night afore the last day o’ the last election here, the opposite party bribed the barmaid at the Town Arms, to hocus the brandy and water of fourteen unpolled electors as was a stoppin’ in the house.”
“What do you mean by ‘hocussing’ brandy and water?” inquired Mr. Pickwick.
“Puttin’ laud’num in it,” replied Sam. “Blessed if she didn’t send ’em all to sleep till twelve hours arter the election was over. They took one man up to the booth, in a truck, fast asleep, by way of experiment, but it was no go—they wouldn’t poll him; so they brought him back, and put him to bed again.”
“Strange practices, these,” said Mr. Pickwick; half speaking to himself and half addressing Sam.
“Not half so strange as a miraculous circumstance as happened to my own father, at an election time, in this wery place, sir,” replied Sam.