PUNCH,
OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

Vol. 101.

August 15, 1891.

A TERRIBLE TALE.

LEAVES FROM A CANDIDATE'S DIARY.

Thursday, June 12.—Letters from Billsbury arrive by every post, Horticultural Societies, sea-side excursions, Sunday School pic-nics, cricket club fêtes, all demand subscriptions, and, as a rule, get them. If this goes on much longer I shall be wound up in the Bankruptcy Court. Shall have to make a stand soon, but how to begin is the difficulty. Pretty certain in any case to put my foot down in the wrong place, and offend everybody. Amongst other letters came this one:—

4, Stone Street, Billsbury, June 10.

"I will give any security you like."

Sir,—I venture to appeal to your generosity in a matter which I am sure you will recognise to be of the highest importance. My services to the Conservative Party in Billsbury are well-known. I can safely say that no man has, during the last ten years, worked harder than I have to promote Conservative interests, and for a smaller reward. My exertions at the last election brought on a violent attack of malarial fever, which laid me up for some months, and from which I still suffer. The shaky character of my hand-writing attests the sufferings I have gone through, and the shattered condition of my bodily health at the present moment. I lost my situation as head-clerk in the Export Department of the Ironmongers' Association, and found myself, at the age of forty, compelled to begin life again with a wife and three children. Everything I have turned my hand to has failed, and I am in dire want. May I ask you, under these circumstances, to be so good as to advance me £500 for a few months. I will give any security you like. Perhaps I might repay some part of the loan by doing work for you during the election. This must be a small matter to a wealthy and generous man like you. To me it is a matter of life and death. Anxiously awaiting your early and favourable reply, and begging you to keep this application a secret,

I remain, Sir, Yours, faithfully, HENRY PIDGIN.

That sounded heart-breaking, but I happened to know that Mr. PIDGIN's "malarial fever" was nothing but delirium tremens, brought on by a prolonged course of drunkenness. Hence his shaky handwriting, &c. BLISSOP had warned me against him. Wrote back that, in view of the Corrupt Practices Act, it was impossible for me to relieve individual cases.

Called on the PENFOLDS this afternoon. They are up from Billsbury for their stay in London, and have got a house in Eaton Square. To my surprise found Mrs. BELLAMY and MARY there. That was awkward, especially as MARY looked at me, as I thought, very meaningly, and asked me if I didn't think SOPHY PENFOLD sweetly pretty. I muttered something about preferring a darker type of beauty (MARY's hair is as black as my hat), to which MARY replied that perhaps, after all, that kind of pink and white beauty with hair like tow was rather insipid. The BELLAMYS it seems met the PENFOLDS at a dinner last week, and the girls struck up a friendship, this call being the result. Young PENFOLD, whom I had never seen before, was there and was infernally attentive to MARY. He's in the 24th Lancers, and looks like a barber's block. Mrs. BELLAMY said to me, "I've been hearing so much about you from dear Lady PENFOLD. They all have the highest opinion of you. In fact, Lady PENFOLD said she felt quite like a mother to you. And how kind of you to buy so many things from Miss PENFOLD at the Bazaar. What are my father's noble lines?

(And so forth, I've forgotten the rest.) "I love kindness," continued Mrs. BELLAMY, "in young men. By the way, will you excuse a short invitation, and dine with us the day after to-morrow? All the PENFOLDS are coming." I said yes, and made up my mind that I must settle matters with MARY one way or another before complications got worse, or young PENFOLD made any more progress. I felt all the afternoon as if I'd committed a crime.

Friday, June 13th.—Three cheers. I've done it. Called on the BELLAMYS to-day. Found MARY alone. She was very sarcastic, but at last I could stand it no longer, and told her I had never loved and never should love anybody but her. Then she burst into tears, and I—anyhow she's promised to marry me. Have to interview Mrs. BELLAMY to-morrow. No time to do it to-day, as she was out till late. Chuck her up!

Mother received the news very well. "Accepted you, my darling boy?" she said. "Of course she did. How could she do otherwise? Bring her to see me soon. She shall, of course, have all the family jewels immediately, and the dining-room furniture too. There'll be a few other trifles too, I daresay, that you'll be glad of." Dear Mother, she's the kindest soul in the world. Carlo has been informed of the news, and is said to have manifested an extraordinarily intelligent appreciation of it, by insisting on a second helping for supper. He's a remarkable dog.

"SEMPER EADEM."

["The position of the Jews in Russia becomes daily more terrible. An order that they are henceforth to work upon their Sabbath and holy festivals is about to be issued and put in force."—Standard.—"A most pertinent illustration of the falsity of repeated rumours and reports representing in some cases a strong disposition, and in others an actual decision, on the part of the CZAR and the Russian Government, to alleviate the miseries of the Jews."—Times.]