LEAVES FROM A CANDIDATE'S DIARY.
"George Hotel," Billsbury, Friday, April 25th.—Arrived this morning in order to attend a "Monstre Open Air Conservative Fête, which was held in the grounds of the Billsbury Summer Palace. The programme was a very attractive one. First, there was a "reception of town and county delegates and their ladies" by the Earl and Countess of ROCHEVIEILLE. The Earl is a scrubby little fellow of about sixty, who looks more like an old-clothes-man than anything else. Norman noses—at least their descendants in this generation—are curiously like the Semitic variety sometimes. The name is pronounced "Rovail," and both the Earl and Countess get blue with rage if anybody makes a mistake about it, as nearly all the delegates did. They stood on a raised daïs, and received delegates' addresses to the number of about thirty. Lady ROCHEVIEILLE is a stout lady—very. It was a blazing hot day, and she was "overcome" just as she was shaking hands with Colonel and Mrs. CHORKLE, who were accompanied by BENJAMIN DISRAELI CHORKLE. The rest of the CHORKLE family, including WILLIAMINA HENRIETTA SMITH CHORKLE, who was in a nurse's arms, were somewhere about the grounds looking for the "Magic Haunts of the Fairy Bulbul," and eating enormous quantities of macaroons, which I had given them. Colonel CHORKLE rather lost his head when Lady R. collapsed. He made an effort to pick her up, but had to drop her heavily on the boards of the daïs. Eventually, however, she was carried away and revived, and the proceedings went on. There were Conservative merry-go-rounds, Conservative negro-minstrels, Conservative acrobats and Conservative dancing bears, distributed about the grounds. I was taken about by Alderman MOFFAT and HOLLEBONE, who introduced me right and left to hundreds of my supporters and their wives and daughters. At the end of it all I felt as if I had got a heavy sort of how-do-you-do smile regularly glued on my face. One of my chief supporters is an undertaker named JOBSON. HOLLEBONE brought him up to me and said, "Mr. JOBSON, permit me to introduce you to our popular young Candidate, Mr. PATTLE. Mr. PATTLE let me have the honour of introducing you to our popular young undertaker, Mr. JOBSON." Gave me rather a shock, but JOBSON seemed quite a pleasant man. His wife was there too, gorgeously dressed in red plush with an Indian shawl on her shoulders, and a sealskin muff. She must have felt the heat horribly.
Later in the afternoon there was a political meeting, at which we all spoke, but we had to make it short, as everybody was anxious to get away to the "Refined Musical Mélange (with incidental dances) of the Sisters WILKINS," which was held in a specially erected tent. Fireworks, illuminations, and dancing, ended the affair.
April 26.—Was made an Oddfellow to-day. Initiation didn't last long. CHORKLE and JERRAM were initiated with me, and we all had to make speeches afterwards, declaring our devotion to the great cause of Oddfellowship. Afterwards sentiments were called for. The only one I remember was given by a man called TABSEY, a tailor, who seems to be rather famous for this kind of thing. After holding his hand to his head for some time, and knitting his brows, he cleared his throat, and said, in a loud voice,—"May the tear of true sympathy crystallise as it falls, and be worn as a radiant jewel upon the finger of affliction." This was vociferously applauded. I congratulated TABSEY afterwards, and paid him a compliment about it. He told me he found it a great relief, after a hard day's work in the shop, to throw off a sentiment or two. He's going to publish a book of them, and I've had to subscribe for six copies, at half a guinea each.
FROM A WATCHFUL OBSERVER.—SIR,—The other day I saw advertised in a shop-window, "The Invisible Trouser Stretcher." Who wears "Invisible Trousers"? Do you remember the story of The Emperor of China's Clothes?—when they all cried, "He's got 'em on," and he hadn't. That Invisible Trousers should exist is quite enough stretch of imagination without any further stretcher.—Yours, THE DAY WATCHMAN.
MRS. R. AT THE OPERA.—Mrs. RAMSBOTHAM Junior went to hear La Traviata. She expressed her sympathy with Violetta, between two Gourmands. Remarking on the touching finish to the converted Traviata's career, Mrs. R. observed that it reminded her of the poet's line about "She who stopped to cough, remained to pray."