VIII.—After the Poll.
I am overwhelmed with congratulations, from all classes, from all sections, from all ranks, and I am acclaimed on all hands as a worthy head man for a Mudford, if not yet a model, village. Not the least welcome have been the communications which have reached me from those who have made my acquaintance in these published Chronicles. The mayor of a borough whose charter dates well back into the beginning of the second half of the present century, wrote to say that he is emboldened by the fact that his wife's maiden name commenced with a W to write to tell me how rejoiced he is to hear of my success. A gentleman writes from "The Burning Plains of the Sahara" to say that he is always proud of the triumphs of a Timothy. (My daughter points out that this is clearly a forgery, since the Sahara mail isn't in till next week. But I can't go into that.) Then there is a very important letter from Birmingham, of which I will only say that Winkins, who has backed many a Bill, may yet live to indorse a Programme. I may here add that there has been an attempt in some quarters to decry these Chronicles as absurd and imaginary. My Birmingham correspondent describes them as "an important picture of things as they actually are." He is right. I am as serious as a Prime Minister.
My wife is back—which reminds me that I received a post-card, which his had the effect usually produced by a bomb. Here is what was on it:—
AFTER THE POLL.
After the poll is over,
After the voting's done,
Mudford will be much duller,
No more election fun.
But ONE man will be more happy,
Not so disturbed in his soul (?),