IV.—Electioneering.
Whatever, my wife may think about my public meeting, and whatever I may feel about it myself, one thing is quite certain—that it has left Mudford a very different village from what it found it. When I commenced my great efforts in the cause of citizenship there was apathy and ignorance amongst the "idiots"—as my friend Miss Phil. Burtt insists on calling the villagers. Things travel quickly nowadays, and at the present moment we are all ablaze with the excitement of electioneering.
I ought to say at once that I have taken as yet no steps in my own candidature. I feel that, after the part I have played in the great Drama of Village Home Rule, the next move ought to come from a grateful and appreciative peasantry. In point of fact, I have been expecting every day, every hour almost, a deputation to ask me to allow myself to be put in nomination—I fancy that's the correct phrase. So far the deputations have been as conspicuous by their absence since the meeting as they were annoying by their frequency before. Another curious fact I have noticed in this. We are to have a Parish Council of seven. Thus far I have heard of exactly seven candidates and no more. This means that when I am nominated, as I shall be, of course, by all sections of the community (for I feel in my inward heart that it will be "all right on the night"), there will be only one candidate too many. Who will be the unsuccessful one? I wonder!
Of the seven candidates, I should first mention Mrs. Letham Havitt and Mrs. Arble March. Both of these ladies have started a vigorous campaign, and—mirabile dictu! (it makes one feel so literary to introduce every now and again a tag of Latin)—are running amicably together. At a Parliamentary election it's a case of war to the knife, but now the lion lies down with the lamb; not that, for one single instant, would I insinuate that either is a lion, or, for the matter of that, a lamb. I should be ashamed to be so familiar. Mrs. Havitt's placards are everywhere on the walls. The effect of contrasts is at times surprising. For instance—
Use Banana Soap
Letham Havitt
for the Parish Council.
Mrs. Arble March is no less enterprising, and has purple appeals to you to vote for "the March of Progress," and "the March of Ideas." It may be very funny, but I have no patience with making a joke of such a serious matter. No one, at any rate, can ever accuse me of being intentionally funny.
It is announced from the Hall that the Squire has very kindly consented to stand; the Vicar follows his neighbour's example, and will no doubt be returned, if for nothing else, as a compliment to his two charming daughters. (I think I must ask them to canvass for me when I come out. My wife declares she won't, and that she won't let my girls either.) That makes four candidates. The other three are Black Bob and two of his mates, who are claiming support as the "People's Three."
And now comes, perhaps, the most extraordinary thing of all—their programme! I find that it is full of the most (so-called) advanced ideas, but that the plank which seems to be the most attractive is "Free Trout-fishing!" I confess I could hardly believe my own eyes when I read it. In the first place, it seemed so farcical. In the second place, the only trout-fishing in the neighbourhood happens to belong to me! What's more, I don't see any way out of the difficulty. I met Black Bob a day or two ago and asked him how he ever got such an absurd notion into his head that the Parish Council had anything to do with trout-fishing. "It's all right, Mr. Winkins," said he, "just remember what Section 8 says." I said nothing at the time, because I thought as a fact that that section referred to Boards of Guardians. When I looked at the Act, sure enough I read, as being one of the powers possessed by the Parish Council—
"(e) To utilise any well, spring, or stream within their parish"....
I read no more. I had read enough. How any Parliament can ever have dared to insert such a monstrous section I cannot understand. But there it is. "Free trout-fishing!" Well—there ought to be someone on the Parish Council to defend the rights of property. I shall be the man.
Next Tuesday the Parish Meeting in the Voluntary Schoolroom at 7.30. It cannot fail to be an eventful night.