Do you remember, in history, how Napoleon turned pale when he heard that the Duke of Wellington was to lead the allies in Belgium? Do you remember how when Themistocles heard that Aristogiton was to lead the Spartans, he jumped into the sea? Possibly you don't, but it may help you to form some idea of what John Henry Bagshaw felt when he heard that the Conservatives had selected Josh Smith, proprietor of Smith's Hotel.
You remember Smith. You've seen him there on the steps of his hotel,—two hundred and eighty pounds in his stockinged feet. You've seen him selling liquor after hours through sheer public spirit, and you recall how he saved the lives of hundreds of people on the day when the steamer sank, and how he saved the town from being destroyed the night when the Church of England Church burnt down. You know that hotel of his, too, half way down the street, Smith's Northern Health Resort, though already they were beginning to call it Smith's British Arms.
So you can imagine that Bagshaw came as near to turning pale as a man in federal politics can.
"I never knew Smith was a Conservative," he said faintly; "he always subscribed to our fund."
"He is now," said Mr. Gingham ominously; "he says the idea of this reciprocity business cuts him to the heart."
"The infernal liar!" said Mr. Bagshaw.
There was silence for a few moments. Then Bagshaw spoke again.
"Will Smith have anything else in his platform besides the trade question?"
"Yes," said Mr. Gingham gloomily, "he will."
"What is it?"