be swept away. A Mass Meeting of Conservative electors will be
held on an early date to ratify the decision of the Council,
and inaugurate the period of hard work throughout the
constituency.

_BILLSBURY METEOR_.

Last night the Conservatives gave their annual performance of
the good old farce entitled, _Choosing a Candidate; or, Who's
got the Money-bags?_ We are glad to be able to congratulate
this distinguished body of amateurs on the modest success
which attended their efforts. Most of the performers are
well-known to the Billsbury public. Alderman TOLLAND, as the
heavy father, provoked screams of laughter by the studied
pomposity of his manner. His unctuous rendering of the
catch-phrase, "Constitutional Progress," has lost none of its
old force. Mr. CHORKLE was, perhaps, not so successful as
we have sometimes seen him in his representation of a real
Colonel, but the scene in which he attacked and routed
LINDLEY MURRAY, went extremely well. Mr. JERRAM as a singing
journalist, was admirable. We cannot help wondering why so
remarkable an actor should confine himself to the provincial
stage. We had almost forgotten to mention that the part of
_The Candidate_ was, on this occasion, assigned to a Mr.
RICHARD PATTLE, a complete novice, whose evident nervousness
seriously imperilled the success of the piece. He had omitted
to learn his part adequately, and the famous soliloquy, "The
country has need of me," was painfully bungled. Mr. PATTLE has
few qualifications for the ambitious _role_ he essayed, and
his friends would be doing an act of true kindness if they
insisted on his withdrawal from a profession for which he is
in no way fitted. The performance will be repeated as usual
next year.

I suppose the _Meteor_ people think that witty. When I got home, an
awful thing happened. Mother, of course, wanted to see the papers,
so I gave her the _Standard_, with which she was much pleased. She
said it was evident I had made a wonderful impression, and that the
Billsbury Conservatives were particularly sensible people! But, by
some mistake, I left the _Meteor_ lying on the drawing-room table. It
seems that, in the afternoon, that sharp-tongued old hag, Mrs. SPIGOT,
called. She saw the _Meteor_, took it up, and said, "Dear me, is this
something about your son?" Mother, thinking it was the _Standard_,
s