the chance of sending Myself to Parliament.
Now I'll tell you what I am a going to do for
you. Here's the interests of this magnificent
town promoted above all the rest of the civilised
and uncivilised earth. Here's your railways
carried, and your neighbours' railways jockeyed.
Here's all your sons in the Post-office. Here's
Britannia smiling on you. Here's the eyes of
Europe on you. Here's uniwersal prosperity
for you, repletion of animal food, golden cornfields,
gladsome homesteads, and rounds of
applause from your own hearts, all in one lot and
that's myself. Will you take me as I stand?
You won't? Well then, I'll tell you what I'll
do with you. Come now! I'll throw you in
anything you ask for. There! Church-rates,
abolition of church-rates, more malt tax, no malt
tax, uniwersal education to the highest mark or
uniwersal ignorance to the lowest, total abolition
of flogging in the army or a dozen for every private
once a month all round, Wrongs of Men or
Rights of Women,—only say which it shall be,
take 'em or leave 'em, and I'm of your opinion
altogether, and the lot's your own on your own
terms. There! You won't take it yet? Well then,
I'll tell you what I'll do with you. Come! You
are such free and independent woters, and I am
so proud of you—you are such a noble and
enlightened constituency, and I am so ambitious
of the honour and dignity of being your member,
which is by far the highest level to which the
wings of the human mind can soar—that I'll
tell you what I'll do with you. I'll throw
you in all the public-houses in your magnificent
town for nothing. Will that content you? It
won't? You won't take the lot yet? Well
then, before I put the horse in and drive away,
and make the offer to the next most magnificent
town that can be discovered, I'll tell you what
I'll do. Take the lot, and I'll drop two thousand
pound in the streets of your magnificent
town for them to pick up that can. Not
enough? Now look here. This is the very
furthest that I'm a going to. I'll make it two
thousand five hundred. And still you won't?
Here, missis! Put the horse—no, stop half a
moment, I shouldn't like to turn my back upon
you neither for a trifle, I'll make it two thousand
seven hundred and fifty pound. There!
Take the lot on your own terms, and I'll count
out two thousand seven hundred and fifty pound
on the footboard of the cart, to be dropped in
the streets of your magnificent town for them
to pick up that can. What do you say? Come
now! You won't do better, and you may do
worse. You take it? Hooray! Sold again,
and got the seat!"

These Dear Jacks soap the people shameful,
but we Cheap Jacks don't. We tell 'em
the truth about themselves to their faces, and
scorn to court 'em. As to wenturesomeness
in the way of puffing up the lots, the Dear
Jacks beat us hollow. It is considered in
the Cheap Jack calling that better patter can
be made out of a gun than any article we put up
from the cart, except a pair of spectacles. I
often hold forth about a gun for a quarter of an
hour, and feel as if I need never leave off. But
when I tell 'em what the gun can do, and what
the gun has brought down, I never go half so
far as the Dear Jacks do when they make
speeches in praise of their guns—their great
guns that set 'em on to do it. Besides, I'm
in business for myself, I ain't sent down into
the market-place to order, as they are. Besides
again, my guns don't know what I say in their
laudation, and their guns do, and the whole concern
of 'em have reason to be sick and ashamed
all round. These are some of my arguments
for declaring that the Cheap Jack calling
is treated ill in Great Britain, and for turning
warm when I think of the other Jacks in question
setting themselves up to pretend to look
down upon it.

I courted my wife from the footboard of the
cart. I did indeed. She was a Suffolk young
woman, and it was in Ipswich market-place
right opposite the corn-chandler's shop. I had
noticed her up at a window last Saturday that
was, appreciating highly. I had took to her,
and I had said to myself, "If not already disposed
of, I'll have that lot." Next Saturday
that come, I pitched the cart on the same pitch,
and I was in very high feather indeed, keeping
'em laughing the whole of the time and getting
off the goods briskly. At last I took out of
my waistcoat-pocket, a small lot wrapped in
soft paper, and I put it this way (looking up
at the window where she was). "Now here
my blooming English maidens is an article, the
last article of the present evening's sale, which
I offer to only you the lovely Suffolk Dumplings
biling over with beauty, and I won't take a bid
of a thousand pound for, from any man alive.
Now what is it? Why, I'll tell you what it is.
It's made of fine gold, and it's not broke though
there's a hole in the middle of it, and it's stronger
than any fetter that ever was forged, though
it's smaller than any finger in my set of ten.
Why ten? Because when my parents made
over my property to me, I tell you true, there
was twelve sheets, twelve towels, twelve tablecloths,
twelve knives, twelve forks, twelve tablespoons,
and twelve teaspoons, but my set
of fingers was two short of a dozen and could
never since be matched. Now what else is it?
Come I'll tell you. It's a hoop of solid gold,
wrapped in a silver curl-paper that I myself
took off the shining locks of the ever beautiful
old lady in Threadneedle-street, London city.
I wouldn't tell you so if I hadn't the paper to
show, or you mightn't believe it even of me.
Now what else is it? It's a man-trap and a
handcuff, the parish stocks and a leg-lock, all
in gold and all in one. Now what else is it?
It's a wedding ring. Now I'll tell you what I'm
a-going to do with it. I'm not a-going to offer
this lot for money, but I mean to give it to the
next of you beauties that laughs, and I'll pay
her a visit to-morrow morning at exactly half
after nine o'clock as the chimes go, and I'll take
her out for a walk to put up the banns." She
laughed, and got the ring handed up to her.
When I called in the morning, she says, "Oh