Ten o’clock.—­State of the poll to this time:—­

Figsby          19
Griggles        22

The most barefaced bribery is being employed by Griggles.  A lady, known to be in his interest, was seen buying half-a-pound of tea, in the shop of Mr. Fad, the grocer, for which she paid with a whole sovereign, and took no change. Two legs of mutton have also been sent up to Griggles’ house, by Reilly, the butcher.  Heaven knows what will be the result.  The voting is become serious—­four men with fractured skulls have, within these ten minutes, been carried into the apothecary’s over the way.  A couple of policemen have been thrown over the bridge; but we are in too great a state of agitation to mind trifles.

Half-past Twelve o’clock.—­State of the poll to this time:—­

Figsby          27
Griggles        36

You can have no idea of the frightful state of the town.  The faction are employing all sorts of bribery and intimidation.  The wife of a liberal greengrocer has just been seen with the Griggles ribbons in her cap.  Five pounds have been offered for a sucking-pig.  Figsby must come in, notwithstanding two cart-loads of the temperance voters are now riding up to the poll, most of them being too drunk to walk.  Three duels have been this morning reported.  Results not known.  The coroner has been holding inquests in the market-house all the morning.

Three o’clock.—­State of the poll to this time:—­

Figsby          45
Griggles        39

The rascally corrupt assessor has decided that the temperance electors who came up to vote for the Liberal candidate, being too drunk to speak, were disentitled to vote.  Some dead men had been polled by Griggles.

The verdict of the coroner’s inquest on those who unfortunately lost their lives this morning, has been, “Found dead.”  Everybody admires the sagacious conclusion at which the jury have arrived.  It is reported that Figsby has resigned!  I am able to contradict the gross falsehood.  Mr. F. is now addressing the electors from his committee-room window, and has this instant received a plumper—­in the eye—­in the shape of a rotten potato.  I have ascertained that the casualties amount to no more than six men, two pigs, and two policemen, killed; thirteen men, women, and children, wounded.

Four o’clock—­State of the poll up to this time:—­

Figsby          29
Griggles        41

The poll-clerks on both sides are drunk, the assessor has closed the booths, and I am grieved to inform you that Griggles has just been duly elected.

Half past Four o’clock.—­Figsby has given Grigglcs the lie on the open hustings.  Will Griggles fight?

Five o’clock.—­His wife insists he shall; so, of course, he must.  I hear that a message has just been delivered to Figsby.  Tom Daly and his carpet-bag passed under my window a few minutes ago.