Well, the Chairman was making a long business of the nomination
papers: so just to pass the time we let the old man sing. It seemed
churlish, too, not to join in the chorus; and by and by the whole
meeting was singing with a will. We sang "_Tidings of Comfort and
Joy_," and "_I saw Three Ships_," and the _Cherry-tree Carol_, and
"_Dives and Lazarus_." We had come to that verse where Dives is
carried off to sit on the serpent's knee, when the Chairman rose and
said that only five of the nomination papers were spoilt, and he
declared sixty-seven ladies and gentlemen to be duly nominated.

We all pricked up our ears at the word "ladies." However, there
turned out to be one lady only; and when the Chairman read out her
name, her husband--a naval pensioner, William Carclew--stood up and
explained that he had only meant it for a joke upon the old woman,
just to give her a start, and he hoped it would go no farther.
This seemed fair and natural enough; but the Chairman said if Mrs.
Carclew wished to withdraw her name she had better do so at once by
word of mouth. So Carclew had to run home and fetch her. While he
was gone we finished "_Dives and Lazarus_."

In five minutes' time back came Carclew, followed by Mrs. Carclew,
who announced--in a rich brogue--that since her man had conspired to
put this fool's trick upon her, why now she would stand, begob!
"Arrah now, people, people, and a gay man he'll look houlding the
babby, while I'm afther superinthendin' the Parush!" So the
Chairman declared her duly nominated. It will surprise me if she
does not head the poll on the 17th.

The Chairman now invited us to interrogate the candidates, if we
wished. By this time we were getting pretty well into the way of