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180 honour has to do with tailoring, I can't tell you: perhaps Mr. Moffat can. But mind you, my friends, I don't say anything against tailoring: some of you are tailors, I dare say.'

'Yes, we be,' said a little squeaking voice from out of the crowd.

'And a good trade it is. When I first knew Barchester there were tailors here who could lick any stonemason in the trade; I say nothing against tailors. But it isn't enough for a man to be a tailor unless he's something else along with it. You're not so fond of tailors that you'll send one up to parliament merely because he is a tailor.'

'We won't have no tailors. No; nor yet no cabbaging. Take a go of brandy, Roger; you're blown.'

'No, I'm not blown yet. I've a deal more to say about Mr. Moffat before I shall be blown. What has he done to entitle him to come here before you and ask you to send him to parliament? Why; he isn't even a tailor. I wish he were. There's always some good in a fellow who knows how to earn his own bread. But he isn't a tailor; he can't even put a stitch in towards mending England's honour. His father was a tailor; not a Barchester tailor, mind you, so as to give him any claim on your affections; but a London tailor. Now the question is, do you want to send the son of a London tailor up to parliament to represent you?'

'No, we don't; nor yet we won't neither.'

'I rather think not. You've had him once, and what has he done for you? Has he said much for you in the House of Commons? Why, he's so dumb a dog that he can't bark even for a bone. I'm told it's quite painful to hear him fumbling and mumbling and trying to get up a speech there over at the White Horse. He doesn't belong to the city; he hasn't done anything for the city; and he hasn't the power to do anything for the city. Then, why on earth does he come here? I'll tell you. The Earl de Courcy brings him. He's going to marry the Earl de Courcy's niece; for they say he's very rich—this tailor's son—only they do say also that he doesn't much like to spend his money. He's going to marry Lord de Courcy's niece, and Lord de Courcy wishes that his nephew should be in parliament. There, that's the claim which Mr. Moffat has here on the people of Barchester. He's Lord de Courcy's nominee, and those who feel themselves bound hand and foot, heart and soul, to Lord de Courcy, had better vote for him. Such men have my leave. If there are enough of such at Barchester to send him to parliament, the city in which I was born must be very much altered since I was a young man.'