all they complained of
was the short notice. It wasn't fair because while they--the leading
Liberals--had been treating the electors with the contemptuous
indifference that is customary, Sir Graball D'Encloseland had been most
active amongst his constituents for months past, cunningly preparing
for the contest. He had really been electioneering for the past six
months! Last winter he had kicked off at quite a number of football
matches besides doing all sorts of things for the local teams. He had
joined the Buffalos and the Druids, been elected President of the Skull
and Crossbones Boys' Society, and, although he was not himself an
abstainer, he was so friendly to Temperance that he had on several
occasions, taken the chair at teetotal meetings, to say nothing of the
teas to the poor school children and things of that sort. In short, he
had been quite an active politician, in the Tory sense of the word, for
months past and the poor Liberals had not smelt a rat until the
election was sprung upon them.

A hurried meeting of the Liberal Three Hundred was held, and a
deputation sent to London to find a candidate but as there was only a
week before polling day they were unsuccessful in their mission.
Another meeting was held, presided over by Mr Adam Sweater--Rushton and
Didlum also being present.

Profound dejection was depicted on the countenances of those assembled
slave-drivers as they listened to the delegates' report. The sombre
silence that followed was broken at length by Mr Rushton, who suddenly
started up and said that he began to think they had made a mistake in
going outside the constituency at all to look for a man. It was
strange but true that a prophet never received honour in his own land.
They had been wasting the precious time running about all over the
country, begging and praying for a candidate, and overlooking the fact
that they had in their midst a gentleman--a fellow townsman, who, he
believed, would have a better chance of success than any stranger.
Surely they would all agree--if they could only prevail upon him to
stand--that Adam Sweater would be an ideal Liberal Candidate!

While Mr Rushton was speaking the drooping spirits of the Three Hundred
were reviving, and at the name of Sweater they all began to clap their
hands and stamp their feet. Loud shouts of enthusiastic approval burst
forth, and cries of 'Good old Sweater' resounded through the room.

When Sweater rose to reply, the tu