The allocution of Leonidas to his Spartan heroes at the Thermopylæ could not have been more spirit-stirring than this short and pithy speech of Commodus Cannon; even Mrs. Cannon, forgetting, in a moment of just indignation, that female discretion that ought to characterise a lady's language, could not help supporting the vote by an amendment, exclaiming, "Ay, and doubly d----d too!" "And, moreover," added Mr. Cannon, "I'll be blown if I don't stick my paddock chokefull of buck-wheat, and not leave the fellow a pheasant or a partridge,--that's what I will!" It is difficult to say what dire plans of destruction and desolation might not have been suggested in the family council, had not another rap at the door, louder, if possible, and more authoritative than the footman's, interrupted the discussion. All and every one ran to the windows. Mr. Carrydot, Lord Wittington's steward, was at the entrance of Wick-Hall, and desired a private interview with Mr. Cannon. Mrs. Cannon reluctantly swept out of the room, followed by all the young ladies and the _young men_. Mr. Carrydot was a smart, dapper, little man, with a bald head, ferret eyes, aquiline nose tipped with purple, and with a prying countenance that would have picked out flaws in Magna Charta or the Bill of Rights. His costume sable; but coat, waistcoat, and unavoidables to match, were all of a different black, more or less rusty and shining; his coat-sleeves, or rather cuffs, were short, and allowed his duty wristbands to be seen puckered up above his hairy and meagre hands, and bony, long, crooked fingers, with hooked nails in half mourning. How comes it that the coat-sleeves of certain petty attorneys and apothecaries are generally too short, save and excepting when they have donned their Sabbath and visiting raiment? It surely must arise from the usual practice of extending the arms beyond the limits of their restrictions whenever a body is going to perform some dirty business, possibly and probably that the said dirty business may not stain the cloth they wear, since a cloth may be respectable although the wearer may be as spotted as a panther. Mr. Carrydot walked, or rather stalked in; and, without a bow or a preamble, seated himself, without being asked to take a seat. Cannon looked an encyclopedia of indignation. "His lordship has directed me to call upon you, Mr. Cannon, regarding the approaching county election. You can command several votes, sir?" "Of course, sir," replied Mr. Cannon, with a proper emphasis and conciseness. "You are aware, sir, that his lordship intends to put up Mr. Elfin Eelback, of Stoop-Lodge?" "Well, sir! what's that to me? What do I care for his lordship's candidate?" Bravo, Cannon! Mrs. Cannon would have inflicted a kiss had she been present. Mr. Carrydot's eyes glared with indignation, and beamed with _ousters_ and _ejectments_, as he repeated the words, "What's that to you, sir!"