energy that his cue was taken by the more
knowing ones, and the harmony was abandoned
as Mr. Teesdale went on to say:

"Capital, bravo, excellent! Always
look to you, Whicher, to sing us a good
song! First time I heard you sing that
was years ago, when our old friend Hardy
gave us a supper on the occasion of opening
his dancing school! Poor Hardy, not
well, eh? or he'd have been here among
us! Push the bowl about, eh? Ah, we're
likely to have plenty of that sort of fun
soon, if I'm correctly informed!"

"What's that, Muster Teesdale?" asked
Farmer Adams. " Somebody going to be
married, eh?"

"No, no, one at a time, Adams, one at a
time!"

"What's comin' off then, Muster Teesdale?"

"Well, it's expected that in about a
couple of months' time there'll be a general
election, Mr. Adams, and you know what
that means! I wasn't far out when I said
that the bowl would be pushed about at
such a time as that, was I?"

"That 'ee warn't, Muster Teesdale, that
'ee warn't! Not that we hold much wi'
'lections about here!"

"That's 'cos there's no proper spirit of
opp'sition," said Mr. Croke, who was
accustomed to speak very loudly and freely
on political matters, and who was
delighted at seeing the conversation taking
this turn; " that's 'cos there's no proper
spirit of opp'sition," he repeated, looking
round him, partly in triumph, partly to
see if any antagonist were making ready
net and spear. " They Tories is 'lowed to
walk over the course and du just as pleases
em!"

"What sort of opp'sition could you
expect, Muster Croke?" said Farmer Spalding,
puffing at his long churchwarden.
"What good could Lib'rals do in a
borough like this here Brocksopp, for
instance, where its factories, and works,
and mills, and such like, are held by rich
folk as ought to be Lib'rals and is Tories?"

"Why ought they?" asked Mr. Croke;
and while his interlocutor was gathering up
his answer, old Croke added, " I'm all for
argeyment! I'm a Tory mysel', as all my
house have been, but I like to see a opp'sition
in everything, and a proper fight, not
one-sided 'lections, such as we have seen!
Well, Muster Spalding, and why should
our rich party folk be Lib'rals and not
Tories?"

"Because," said Mr. Spalding, fanning
away the. smoke from before him, and
speaking with great deliberation,
"because they sprung from the people, and
therefore their symp'ties should be wi'
those of whom they were afore they became
rich."

"Like enough, like enough, neighbour
Spalding. That's what's called mo-rality,
that is; but it's not common sense! Common
sense is, that it's lucky they grew
rich; they becam' Tories, which is the
same thing as meaning they wanted their
money taken care of."

"Ay, ay, that's it, Croke!" said Farmer
Adams. " You've just hit the way to
put 'un! Lib'rals, when they've got
nothing and want everything, Tories when
they've got something and want to take
care of it."

"Well, but what's Tories goin' to do
this time?" asked Mr. Moule, a maltster in
the town. " Our presen' member, Sir
George Neal, won't stand again! Told
me so his own self last time he was in town
for quarter sessions—say's he's too old.
My 'pinion is his wife won't let 'un. He's
a rum 'un, is Sir George, and when he gets
up to London by himself, he goes it, they
du say!"

"Nansense, Moule! I wunner at a man
o' your sense talkin' such stuff," said Farmer
Croke. " That's playin' the Lib'ral
game, that is!—though I hev understood
that Sir George won't come forrerd again."

"And the Lib'rals is going to mek a
tre-menjous struggle this time, I've heerd,"
observed Moule.

"Who are they goin' to bring forrerd,
hev you heerd?" asked Mr. Spalding, with
interest.

"Well, I did hear, but I've a'most forgot,"
said Mr. Moule, who was of a misty
and a muddled nature. " No, now I reck'lect,
it was young Bokenham!"

"What, son of old Tom Bokenham of
Blott's Mills?" asked Mr. Spalding.

"That same! Old man's terrible rich,
they du say; firm was Bokenham and Sculthorpe,
but Sculthorpe broke his leg huntin'
wi' Squire Peacock's harriers, and has been
out of business for some time."

"He's just built two saw-mills in
Galabin-street, hasn't he?" asked Mr. Croke.

"He has, and that plant in Harmer's-
row is his too. Young Bill, he's lawyer up
in London—lawyer they say, tho' I thowt
he was a parson, as they told me he lives in
a Temple, and he's wonderful clever in
speakin' at club-meetin's and such like, and
they du say that he's not only a Lib'ral,