ly to appear in this form in the Calcutta papers. The black
frock-coat had said that if a wealthy native "had eight votes to his
credit, his vanity would prompt him to go to the polling-booth, because
he would feel better than half-a-dozen _ghari-wans_ or petty traders."
(Fancy allowing a _ghari-wan_ to vote! He has yet to learn how to
drive!) Hereon the gentleman with the white cloth: "Then the complaint
is that influential voters will not take the trouble to vote? In my
humble opinion, if that be so, adopt voting-papers. _That_ is the way to
meet them. In the same way--The Calcutta Trades' Association--you
abolish all plurality of votes: and that is the way to meet _them_."
Lucid, is it not? Up flies the irresponsible voice, and delivers this
statement, "In the election for the House of Commons plurality are
allowed for persons having interest in different districts." Then
hopeless, hopeless fog. It is a great pity that India ever heard of
anybody higher than the heads of the Civil Service. Once more a whiff of
the Stink. The gentleman gives a defiant jerk of his shoulder-cloth, and
sits down.

Then Sir Steuart Bayley: "The question before the Council is," etc.
There is a ripple of "Ayes" and "Noes," and the "Noes" have it, whatever
it may be. The black-bearded gentleman springs his amendment about the
voting qualifications. A large senator in a white waistcoat, and with a
most genial smile, rises and proceeds to smash up the amendment. Can't
see the use of it. Calls it in effect rubbish. The black dressing-gown,
he who spoke first of all, speaks again, and talks of the "sojourner who
comes here for a little time, and then leaves the land." Well it is for
the black gown that the sojourner does come, or there would be no comfy
places wherein to talk about the power that can be measured by wealth
and the intellect "which, sir, I submit, cannot be so measured." The
amendment is lost; and trebly and quadruply lost is the listener. In the
name of sanity and to preserve the tattered shirt-tails of a torn
illusion, let us escape! This is the Calcutta Municipal Bill. They have
been at it for several Saturdays. Last Saturday Sir Steuart Bayley
pointed out that at their present rate they would be about two years in
getting it through. Now they will sit till dusk, unless Sir Steuart
Bayley, who wants to see Lord Connemara off, puts up the black
frock-coat to move an adjournment. It is not good to watch a Government
close to. Thi