sh Councils Act was the
logical result of Magna Charta, and would have the effect of making
us all citizens of our own parish; and that as the expense of this
would come upon the rates, we should endeavour to use our hardly won
enfranchisement with moderation. "We had met to choose eleven good
men and true to administer the parish business for the coming year,
or to nominate as many good men and true as we pleased. If more than
eleven were nominated"--this was foolishness, for he could see there
was hardly a man in the room that hadn't a nomination paper in his
hand--"he would ask for a show of hands, and any candidate defeated
upon this might demand a poll. He hoped we would vote in no spirit
of sectarian or partisan bitterness, but as impartial citizens
jealous only for the common weal; at the same time he was not in
favour of letting down the Squire, Sir Felix Felix-Williams, too
easily."

So we handed up our nomination papers, and while the Chairman and
overseers were checking them off by the register, Old Pilot James got
upon his legs.

He said that as long as he could remember--man and boy--he had
always practised carols in that very Town Hall upon the first
Tuesday in December. The Vicar--as soon as he had done boiling the
kettle in the next room--would come in and confirm his words.
The practices were held on the first Tuesday in December, and on each
successive Tuesday until St. Thomas's Day, when they had one extra.
If St. Thomas's Day fell on a Tuesday, then the extra practice would
be on Wednesday. He had received no notice of the change.

Thomas Rabling rose and explained that at a meeting held last
Saturday, the singers had agreed to postpone the first practice in
view of Local Self-Government. Mr. James had been present and had
not objected.

George William Oke--a blockmaker, who had never sung a carol or
attended a practice in his life--stood up and said, rather
unnecessarily, that this was the first _he'd_ heard of it.

Old Pilot James, answering Mr. Rabling, admitted that he might have
been present at the meeting on Saturday. But he was deaf, as
everybody knew--and Mr. Rabling no less than the rest--and hadn't
heard a word of what was said. If he had, he should have objected.
But, deaf or not deaf, he still took a delight in singing; and, if
only as a matter of principle, he was going to sing, "_God rest you
merry, gentlemen_," then and there. He was an old man, and they
might turn him