pared to do justice impartially
to all."

"Bu--copia verborum--let us to the main business!"

To an hundred newspapers, to Mr. Flint at Fairview, and other important
personages ticks out the momentous news that the balloting has begun. No
use trying to hold your breath until the first ballot is announced; it
takes time to obtain the votes of one thousand men--especially when
neither General Doby nor any one else knows who they are! The only way is
to march up on the stage by counties and file past the ballot-box.
Putnam, with their glitter-eyed duke, Mr. Bascom, at their head
--presumably solid for Adam B. Hunt; Baron Burrows, who farms out the
post-office at Edmundton, leads Edmunds County; Earl Elisha Jane, consul
at some hot place where he spends the inclement months drops the first
ticket for Haines County, ostensibly solid for home-made virtue and the
Honourable Giles.

An hour and a quarter of suspense and torture passes, while collars wilt
and coats come off, and fans in the gallery wave incessantly, and excited
conversation buzzes in every quarter. And now, see! there is whispering
on the stage among the big-bugs. Mr. Chairman Doby rises with a paper in
his hand, and the buzzing dies down to silence.

The Honourable Giles Henderson of Kingston has . .398
The Honourable Humphrey Crewe of Leith has . . . 353
The Honourable Adam B. Hunt of Edmundton has. . 249
And a majority being required, there is no choice!

Are the supporters of the People's Champion crest-fallen, think you? Mr.
Tooting is not leading them for the moment, but is pressing through the
crowd outside the hall and flying up the street to the Pelican and the
bridal suite, where he is first with the news. Note for an unabridged
biography: the great man is discovered sitting quietly by the window,
poring over a book on the modern science of road-building, some notes
from which he is making for his first message. And instead of the reek of
tobacco smoke, the room is filled with the scent of the floral tributes
brought down by the Ladies' Auxiliary from Leith. In Mr. Crewe's
right-hand pocket, neatly typewritten, is his speech of acceptance. He is
never caught unprepared. Unkind, now, to remind him of that prediction
made last night about the first ballot to the newspapers--and useless.

"I told you last night they were buyin' 'em right under our noses," cried
Mr. Tooting, in a paroxysm of indignation, "and you wouldn't believe me.
Th