the best type of humanity we need not search in vain among the
humble cottages of the hamlets of England. There shall we find the
courageous, brave souls who "scorn delights and live laborious
days,"--men who estimate their fellows at their worth, and not according
to their social position. Blunt and difficult to lead, not out of
hardness of heart or obstinate pigheadedness, but as Burns has put it:

"For the glorious priviledge
Of being independant."

A few such are to be found in all our rural villages if one looks for
them; and if they are the exceptions to the general rule, it must also
be remembered that men with "character" are equally rare amongst the
upper and middle classes.

Talking of village politics, I shall never forget a meeting held at
Northleach a few years ago. It was at a time when the balance of parties
was so even that our Unionist member was returned by the bare majority
of three votes, only to be unseated a few weeks afterwards on a recount.
Northleach is a very Radical town, about six miles from my home; and
when I agreed to take the chair, I little knew what an unpleasant job I
had taken in hand. Our member for some reason or other was unable to
attend. I therefore found myself at 7.30 one evening facing two hundred
"red-hot" Radicals, with only one other speaker besides myself to keep
the ball a-rolling. My companion was one of those professional
politicians of the baser sort, who call themselves Unionists because it
pays better for the working-class politician--in just the same way as
ambitious young men among the upper classes sometimes become Radicals on
the strength of there being more opening for them on the "Liberal" side.

Well, this fellow bellowed away in the usual ranting style for about
three-quarters of an hour; his eloquence was great, but truth was "more
honoured in the breach than in the observance." So that when he sat
down, and my turn came, the audience, instead of being convinced, was
fairly rabid. I was very young at that time, and fearfully nervous;
added to which I was never much of a speaker, and, if interrupted at
all, usually lost the thread of my argument.

After a bit they began shouting, "Speak up." The more they shouted the
more mixed I got. When once the spirit of insubordination is roused in
these fellows, it spreads like wild-fire. The din became so great I
could not hear myself speak. In about five minutes there would have been
a row. Suddenly a