the most of it. Monday morning arrived,
and the first thing that Mr. Ermine did was
to show himself, without his disguise, at a
prominent window of an apartment that had
been for some time engaged, but had not
been ostensibly used until that hour, as the
chief committee-room of Mr. William Manacles.
In this position, as he had intended, he
was seen and recognised by Mr. Weasel. Mr.
Weasel rushed breathlessly to Sir Tomahawk
Sternhold. Sir Tomahawk was calmly sipping
chocolate, in his slippers.

"It's all over!" said Mr. Weasel, forgetting,
in his unnerved state, to address his
principal by his rightful title.

"Sir!" returned Sir Tomahawk, with all
his dignity turned powerfully on at the main.

"Ermine's in Fogmoor," was the conclusive
reply. The sound of that name closed the
main which had sustained the superhuman
dignity of Sir Tomahawk Sternhold; and
the whole of that stately fabric immediately
collapsed upon an ottoman.

"Bill Manacles," continued Mr. Weasel,
sinking also into a chair, "has got a regular
committee-room. I saw Mr. Ermine at the
window. Great man—great artist!" Mr.
Weasel's fear of, was only surpassed by his
admiration for, Mr. Ermine.

Sir Tomahawk recovered slowly, and made
a few fussy suggestions; but evidently
considered the battle already half lost. Mr.
Weasel could say nothing except, "great
artist—great artist!" Sir Tomahawk put
on his boots, and hastened to Mr. Kosmus's
committee-room. Mr. Weasel followed.

On the great day, William Manacles was
certainly the popular candidate with the
crowd assembled at the hustings. This was
part of the Fogmoor population, who had got
large political sympathies, but no votes. The
electors were too busy in clenching bargains,
and making the most of the valuable privilege
which parliament, in its wisdom, had
conferred upon their small body, to idle away
their time in a surging mob.

William Manacles made a short speech in
the choicest and most forcible language. At
least, it was so reported in the local
newspapers. William Manacles was much cheered.
Sir Tomahawk Sternhold had prepared a long
speech, full of eloquent denunciations, many of
which he had learned by heart from Burke and
Chatham; but one single, rotten egg—the
only one allowed to be fired by Mr. Ermine,
who had bought up every egg in the town—
stuck upon the pure white waistcoat of the
honourable member for Fogmoor, and so
disconcerted him, that he forgot his oration, and
retired from the platform in disgust, amidst
the derisive applause of the populace.

Never was a Fogmoor election carried with
such delightful unanimity, as that which
returned William Manacles, the Man of the
People. Commercial travellers, who came
from London with heavy demands upon the
Fogmoor tradesmen, had reason to bless that
event; for they went away with an unusual
amount of cash in their pockets.

But the most surprising thing was, that
the thirteen—the only honest men in
Fogmoor; who had never voted for any
candidate, believing all to be equally bad; and
who were alluded to by Sir Tomahawk in his
celebrated speech on the new reform bill—
came up and voted in a body for William
Manacles. They did not condescend to give
their reasons; but I think they must have
acted under the belief that, when things
come to the worst, they are likely to
mend.

Intelligence soon spread far and wide that
Bill Manacles was returned; though it was
not everyone who had an exact idea of what
had recently taken place in Fogmoor.

An old male pauper, passing some
alms-houses outside the town, was interrogated by
two old, half-deaf women, about the cause
of the flow of people up and down the
roads.

"I doan't exactly know," he said, "but
they be sending Bill Manacles, I think, as our
member to parli'ment."

"Ah!" said one of the old women, "I
knew he'd never come to any good!"

"I knew," said the other, "he'd soon
get hissel' in trouble agen."

This conversation conveyed the sense of a
small portion of the population; but the rest
had a keen appreciation of what had been
done, and gloried in Sir Tomahawk
Sternhold's defeat and in the humiliation of
Fogmoor.

That unfortunate knight quietly accepted
his discomfiture; and, dreading to meet both
the Woolsack Club and the neighbouring
gentry, he fled with his lady to a remote
part of the continent. While there, some
court acquaintances, who had known him in
better days—more to sustain the dignity of
their order, than out of love or respect for
him—got him appointed plenipotentiary at
Sierra Leone. He was glad to accept it,
and to resign his seat for Fogmoor. Thus
ended all his ambitious projects.

Mr. Snarlington, by the assistance of
Messrs. Alabaster and Ermine, procured his
own election once more for Fogmoor, in the
place of Sir Tomahawk, and was returned
in time to introduce Bill Manacles, the
ticket-of-leave member, and man of the
people, at the opening of the new
parliamentary session. There was much sensation
in the House when Bill made his appearance.
Many eye-glasses were directed at him. Some
young and thoughtless members laughed; but
the old hands frowned, and were very severe
in their tone when they alluded to the
honourable members for Fogmoor.

On the third night of the session, Mr.
Snarlington rose to redeem his pledge of
bringing the question of parliamentary reform
again before the house. His speech began
thus:—