XCII.-INDEPENDENT VOTERS. 1. THE noise and bustle which ushered in the morning were sufficient to dispel from the mind of the most romantic visionary in existence any associations but those which were immediately connected with the rapidly-approaching election. The beating of drums, the blowing of horns and trumpets, the shouting of men and tramping of horses, echoed and re-echoed through the streets from the earliest dawn of day, and an occasional fight between the light skirmishers of either party at once enlivened the preparations and agreeably diversified their character. 2. 66 Well, Sam," said Mr. Pickwick as his valet appeared at his bedroom door just as he was concluding his toilet; "all alive to-day, I suppose?" "Reg'lar game, sir," replied Mr. Weller; "our people's a-collecting down at the Town Arms, and they're a hollering themselves hoarse already." "Ah!" said Mr. Pickwick; "do they seem devoted to their party, Sam?" "Never see such devotion in my life, sir." "Energetic, eh?" said Mr. Pickwick. "Uncommon," replied Sam; 'I never see men eat and drink so much afore; I wonder they ain't afeerd of bustin"." 66 3. "That's the mistaken kindness of the gentry here," said Mr. Pickwick. "Wery likely," replied Sam, briefly. "Fine, fresh, hearty fellows they seem," said Mr. Pickwick, glancing from the window. "Wery fresh," replied Sam; "me and the two waiters at the Peacock has been a-pumpin' over the independent woters as supped there last night." "Pumping over independent voters!" exclaimed Mr. Pickwick. "Yes," said Sam; "every man slept vhere 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." 4. "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 ain't." "Nothing?" said Mr. Pickwick. "Nothin' at all, sir," replied Sam. "The night afore the last day of the last election here the opposite party bribed the barmaid at the Town Arms to hocus the brandy and water of fourteen expected electors as was a-stoppin' in the house." "What do you mean by hocusing brandy and water?" inquired Mr. Pickwick. 5. "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 let him vote; so they bro't 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. "What was that?" inquired Mr. Pickwick. 6. "Why, he drove a coach down here once," said Sam; "'lection-time came on, and he was engaged to vun party to bring down woters from London. Night afore he was a-goin' to drive up, committee on t'other side sends for him quietly, and away he goes with the messenger, who shows him inlarge room, lots of gen'l'm'n, heaps of papers, pens and ink, and all that 'ere. 'Ah, Mr. Weller,' says the gen'l'm'n in the chair; 'glad to see you, sir; how are you?' 'Wery well, thank'ee, sir,' says my father; 'I hope you're pretty middlin',' says he. 'Pretty well, thank'ee, sir,' says the gen'l'm'n; ‘sit down, Mr. Weller-pray sit down, sir.' 7. "So my father sits down, and he and the gen'l'm'n looks wery hard at each other. 'You don't remember me?' says the gen'l'm'n. Can't say I do,' says my father. 'Oh, I know you,' says the gen'l'm'n; 'know'd you ven you vas a boy,' says he. Well, I don't remember you,' says my father. 'That's wery odd,' says the gen'l'm'n. 'Wery,' says my father. 'You must have a bad memory, Mr. Weller,' says the gen❜l'm'n. Well, it is a wery bad 'un,' says my father. 'I thought so,' says the gen'l'm'n. So then they pours him out. a glass of wine, and gammons him about his driving, and gets him into a reg'lar good humor, and at last shoves a twentypound note into his hand. 8. "It's a wery bad road between this and London,' says the gen'l'm'n. 'Here and there it is a wery heavy road,' says my father. Specially near the canal, I think,' says the gen'I'm'n. 'A bad bit, that 'ere,' says my father. 'Well, Mr. Weller,' says the gen'l'm'n, 'you're a wery good whip, and can do what you like with your horses, we know. We're all wery fond of you, Mr. Weller; so in case you should have an accident when you're bringin' these here woters down, and should tip 'em over into the canal without hurtin' them, this is for yourself,' says he. 'Gen'l'm'n, you're wery kind,' says my father, and I'll drink your health in another glass of wine,' says he; vich he did, and then buttons up the money and bows himself out. 9. "You vouldn't believe, sir," continued Sam, with a look of inexpressible impudence at his master, "that on the wery day as he came down with them woters his coach was upset on that 'ere wery spot, and ev'ry man on 'em was turned into the canal." "And got out again?" inquired Mr. Pickwick, hastily. "Why," replied Sam, very slowly, "I rather think one old gen'I'm'n was missin'; I know his hat was found, but I ain't quite certain whether his head war in it or not. But what I look at is the hextrahordinary and wonderful coincidence that arter what that gen'l'm'n said, my father's coach should be upset in that wery place and on that wery day.” DICKENS. ... SELECT ETYMOLOGIES.-Laudanum: L. lad'anum, the resinous juice of the shrub lada. Messenger: old Eng. messager; fr. L. mit'to, mis'sum, to send: v. COMMIT.... Poll: fr. the Dutch polle, head, top. . . . Summons: fr. the L. summon'eo, I remind privily; fr. sub, under, and mon'ěo, I warn. Summons (says De Vere) is the contracted submo'netas, a well-known legal term, made of the verb after the manner of "fieri facias," "habeas," "capias," etc. . . . Toilet: F. toilette; fr. toile, cloth; fr. L. tella, a web. . . . Usher: F. huissier; fr. L. ostia'rius, a doorkeeper; fr. os'tium, a door. varlet, a boy. Valet old Eng. varlet, a servant; fr. old F. vaslet or XCIII-A SUMMER SHOWER. I. THE rain is o'er; how dense and bright II. In grateful silence earth receives The general blessing; fresh and fair, Each flower expands its little leaves, As glad the common joy to share. III. The softened sunbeams pour around IV. 'Mid yon rich clouds' voluptuous pile Methinks some spirit of the air Might rest to gaze below a while, Then turn to bathe and revel there. V. The sun breaks forth; from off the scene And all the wilderness of green With trembling drops of light is hung. VI. Now gaze on nature; yet the same, Fresh in her youth, from God's own hand. |