I must say they did all that mortals could do with their mouths to honour their future member.

Hogarth’s “March to Finchley” was outdone by that march to the Barnstaple town hall.  An enormous body of electors, “free and independent” stamped on their faces as well as their hands, was gathered there, and it was a long time before we could get anywhere near the door.

Again and again the air was rent with the cries for “Orkins,” and it was perfectly useless for the police to attempt to clear the way.  They had me as if on show, and it was only by the most wonderful perseverance and good luck that I found myself going head first along the corridor leading to the hall itself.

When I appeared on the platform, it seemed as if Barnstaple had never seen such a man; they were mad with joy, and all wanted to shake hands with me at once.  I dodged a good many, and by dint of waving his arms like a semaphore the chairman succeeded, not in restoring peace, but in moderating the noise.

I now had an opportunity of using my eyes, and there before me in one of the front seats was the redoubtable Cave—­the great canvassing Cave—­who instantly rose and gave me the most cordial welcome, trusted I was to be his future colleague in the House, and was most generous in his expressions of admiration for the people of Barnstaple, especially the voting portion of them, and hoped I should have a very pleasant time and never forget dear old Barnstaple.  I said I was not likely to—­nor am I.

Of course I had to address the assembled electors first after the introduction by the chairman, who, taking a long time to inform us what the electors wanted, I made up my mind what to say in order to convince them that they should have it.  I gave them hopes of a great deal of legal reform and reduction of punishments, for I thought that would suit most of them best, and then gladly assented to a satisfactory adjustment of all local requirements and improvements, as well as a determined redress of grievances which should on no account be longer delayed. ("Orkins for ever!”)

Then Cave stood up—­an imposing man, with a good deal of presence and shirt-collar—­who invited any man—­indeed, challenged anybody—­in that hall to question him on any subject whatever.

The challenge was accepted, and up stood one of the rank and file of the electors—­no doubt sent by the Howell Gwynne party—­and with a voice that showed at least he meant to be heard, said,—­

“Mr. Cave, first and foremost of all, I should like to know how your missus is to-day?”

It was scarcely a political or public question, but nobody objected, and everybody roared with laughter, because it seemed at all political meetings Cave had started the fashion, which has been adopted by many candidates since that time, of referring to his wife!  Cave always began by saying he could never go through this ordeal without the help and sympathy of his dear wife—­his support and joy—­at whose bidding and in pursuit of whose dreams he had come forward to win a seat in their uncorruptible borough, and to represent them—­the most coveted honour of his life—­in the House of Commons.