It was an evil day for Griffenbottom when it was suggested to him that he should bring a colleague with him. Griffenbottom knew what this meant almost as well as the learned pundit whose words we have quoted. Griffenbottom had not been blessed with uncontested elections, and had run through many perils. He had spent what he was accustomed to call, when speaking of his political position among his really intimate friends, "a treasure" in maintaining the borough. He must often have considered within himself whether his whistle was worth the price. He had petitioned and been petitioned against, and had had evil things said of him, and had gone through the very heat of the fire of political warfare. But he had kept his seat, and now at last,--so he thought,--the ease and comfort of an unopposed return was to repay him for everything. Alas! how all this was changed; how his spirits sank within him, when he received that high-toned letter from his confidential agent, Mr. Trigger, in which he was invited to suggest the name of a colleague! "I'm sure you'll be rejoiced to hear, for the sake of the old borough," said Mr. Trigger, "that we feel confident of carrying the two seats." Could Mr. Trigger have heard the remarks which his patron made on reading that letter, Mr. Trigger would have thought that Mr. Griffenbottom was the most ungrateful member of Parliament in the world. What did not Mr. Griffenbottom owe to the borough of Percycross? Did he not owe all his position in the world, all his friends, the fact that he was to be seen on the staircases of Cabinet Ministers, and that he was called "honourable friend" by the sons of dukes,--did he not owe it all to the borough of Percycross? Mr. Trigger and other friends of his, felt secure in their conviction that they had made a man of Mr. Griffenbottom. Mr. Griffenbottom understood enough of all this to answer Mr. Trigger without inserting in his letter any of those anathemas which he uttered in the privacy of his own closet. He did, indeed, expostulate, saying, that he would of course suggest a colleague, if a colleague were required; but did not Mr. Trigger and his other friends in the dear old borough think that just at the present moment a pacific line of action would be best for the interests of the dear old borough? Mr. Trigger answered him very quickly, and perhaps a little sharply. The Liberals had decided upon having two men in the field, and therefore a pacific line of action was no longer possible. Mr. Griffenbottom hurried over to the dear old borough, still hoping,--but could do nothing. The scent of the battle was in the air, and the foolish men of Percycross were keen for blood. Mr. Griffenbottom smiled and promised, and declared to himself that there was no peace for the politician on this side the grave. He made known his desires,--or the desire rather of the borough,--to a certain gentleman connected with a certain club in