"Why—a—ya—as! 'pon my life it's quite a superior article, and no mistake"—quoth Titmouse; "but—eh? d'ye think they'll ever believe I writ it all? Egad, my fine fellow, to compose a piece of composition like that, by Jove!—requires—and besides, suppose those dem fellows begin asking me all sorts of questions and thingembobs, eh? You couldn't stay and go about with one a bit? Eh, Phelim?"
"Fait, Titty, an' it's mighty little awake to the way of doing business, that ye are! ah, ha! Murder and thieves! what does it signify what you choose to say or write to them? they're only pisintry: and—the real point to be looked at is this—all those that you can command—d'ye see—of course you will, or send 'em to the right about; and those that you can't—that's the new blackguards round about—buy, if it's necessary, fait!"
"Oh, that's done!—It is, 'pon my soul!" whispered Titmouse.
"Oh? Is it in earnest you are? Then you're M. P. for the borough; and on the strength of it, I'll replenish!" and so he did, Titmouse following his example; and in a pretty state were they, some hour or two afterwards, conducted to their apartments.
It is difficult to describe the rage of Gammon on seeing the Address which had been substituted for that which he had prepared, with so much caution and tact: but the thing was done, and he was obliged to submit. The Address duly appeared in the Yorkshire Stingo. It was also placarded liberally all over the borough, and distributed about, exciting a good deal of interest, and also much approbation among the new electors. It was thought, however, that it was a piece of supererogation, inasmuch as there could be no possible doubt that Mr. Titmouse would walk over the course.
In this, however, it presently proved that the quidnuncs of Yatton were terribly mistaken. A copy of the Yorkshire Stingo, containing the foregoing "Address," was sent, on the day of its publication, by Dr. Tatham to Mr. Aubrey, who had read it aloud, with feelings of mingled sorrow and contempt, on the evening of its arrival, in the presence of Mrs. Aubrey, Miss Aubrey, and also of one who was by no means an unfrequent visitor, Mr. Delamere. The Aubreys were sad enough; and he endeavored to dissipate the gloom which hung over them, by ridiculing, very bitterly and humorously, the pretensions of the would-be member for Yatton—the presumed writer (who, however, Kate protested, without giving her reasons, could never have been Mr. Titmouse) of the precious "Address." He partially succeeded. Both Aubrey and he laughed heartily as they went more deliberately over it; but Kate and Mrs. Aubrey spoke very gravely and indignantly about that part of it which related to the Established Church and the Protestant Religion.
"Oh dear, dear!" quoth Kate at length, with a sudden burst of impetuosity, after a considerable and rather melancholy pause in the conversation; "only to think that such an odious little wretch is to represent the dear old——What would I not give to see him defeated!"
"Pho, Kate," replied her brother, rather sadly, "who is there to oppose him? Pickering told me, you know, that he should not go into the House again; and even if he felt disposed to contest Yatton, what chance could he have against Mr. Titmouse's influence?"
"Oh, I'm sure all the old tenants hate the little monkey, to a man—and that you know, Charles, right well!"