An obscure organ was about to expire in its native shade when an ambitious person of recent date bethought himself of galvanizing it.  His object was to make it a foothold by which to climb from municipal functions to the coveted position of deputy.  Happily this object, having come to the surface, will end in failure.  Electors will certainly not be inveigled by so wily a manner of advancing self-interests; and when the proper time arrives, if ridicule has not already done justice on this absurd candidacy, we shall ourselves prove to the pretender that to aspire to the distinguished honor of representing the nation something more is required than the money to buy a paper and pay an underling to put into good French the horrible diction of his articles and pamphlets.  We confine ourselves to-day to this limited notice, but our readers may be sure that we shall keep them informed about this electoral comedy, if indeed the parties concerned have the melancholy courage to go on with it.

Thuillier read twice over this sudden declaration of war, which was far from leaving him calm and impassible; then, taking la Peyrade aside, he said to him:—­

“Read that; it is serious.”

“Well?” said la Peyrade, after reading the article.

“Well? how well?” exclaimed Thuillier.

“I mean, what do you find so serious in that?”

“What do I find so serious?” repeated Thuillier.  “I don’t think anything could be more insulting to me.”

“You can’t doubt,” said la Peyrade, “that the virtuous Cerizet is at the bottom of it; he has thrown this firecracker between your legs by way of revenge.”

“Cerizet, or anybody else who wrote that diatribe is an insolent fellow,” cried Thuillier, getting angry, “and the matter shall not rest there.”

“For my part,” said la Peyrade, “I advise you to make no reply.  You are not named; though, of course, the attack is aimed at you.  But you ought to let our adversary commit himself farther; when the right moment comes, we’ll rap him over the knuckles.”

“No!” said Thuillier, “I won’t stay quiet one minute under such an insult.”

“The devil!” said the barrister; “what a sensitive epidermis!  Do reflect, my dear fellow, that you have made yourself a candidate and a journalist, and therefore you really must harden yourself better than that.”

“My good friend, it is a principle of mine not to let anybody step on my toes.  Besides, they say themselves they are going on with this thing.  Therefore, it is absolutely necessary to cut short such impertinence.”

“But do consider,” said la Peyrade.  “Certainly in journalism, as in candidacy, a hot temper has its uses; a man makes himself respected, and stops attacks—­”

“Just so,” said Thuillier, “‘principiis obsta.’  Not to-day, because we haven’t the time, but to-morrow I shall carry that paper into court.”