You have come down here to see an election--eh ?' Mr.Pickwick replied in the affirmative.
'Spirited contest, my dear sir,' said the little man.
'I'm delighted to hear it,' said Mr.Pickwick, rubbing his hands.

'I like to see sturdy patriotism, on whatever side it is called forth--and so it's a spirited contest ?' 'Oh, yes,' said the little man, 'very much so indeed.

We have opened all the public-houses in the place, and left our adversary nothing but the beer-shops-masterly stroke of policy that, my dear Sir, eh ?' The little man smiled complacently, and took a large pinch of snuff.
'And what are the probabilities as to the result of the contest ?' inquired Mr.Pickwick.
'Why, doubtful, my dear Sir; rather doubtful as yet,' replied the little man.

'Fizkin's people have got three-and-thirty voters in the lock-up coach-house at the White Hart.' 'In the coach-house!' said Mr.Pickwick, considerably astonished by this second stroke of policy.
'They keep 'em locked up there till they want 'em,' resumed the little man.

'The effect of that is, you see, to prevent our getting at them; and even if we could, it would be of no use, for they keep them very drunk on purpose.