Well, experientia docet.  That confounded “local Club”
  (Blend of Institute and Chapel with a savour of the pub.)
  Where the pallid-faced cheesemongers, and the clammy-handed snobs,
  Swarmed around to “patronise” him, was the toughest of tough jobs.

  Its rooms were wondrous stuffy and its members scarce “good form,”
  For they mostly dropped their aitches, and they always looked so
          warm. 
  Why political enthusiasts so run to noise and heat,
  And crude manners, and bad grammar, is a crux that’s hard to beat.

  But he bore it,—­yes, he bore it; he shook heaps of ’orny ’ands,
  Heard the shindy of their shoutings, and the braying of their bands;
  Stood their “heckling,” which was trying, and their praises, which
          were worse,
  All the claims upon his time, and taste, his patience, and his
          purse.

  Then they “chucked” him by three figures!  Well, he’s “out of it,”
          thanks be! 
  And he “offs it by the Special” to the river or the sea. 
  He heard the “Declaration,” and the rival Party’s roar,
  And—­“the subsequent proceedings interested him no more.”

“‘Latest Results!  Helections!!’ Oh, confound the boy!  Get out!  Let the winners sum their winnings, let their blatant backers shout.  What have I to do with pollings?  Cease, cacophonous urchin, cease!  I am going to read The Wrecker, and possess my soul in peace!”

* * * * *

“D.G.” and MRS. R.—­Mr. Punch begs to congratulate the Daily Graphic on the electioneering ladder showing every day the position of the Parties.  Very “Happy Thought.”  His ancient friend, Mrs. RAM, in speaking of this journal, observed, that “Daily Graphic was not by any means a new name, and the paper ought to have been purely theatrical, as the person after whom it is evidently called was the celebrated actor, you know, my dear, in the last century, whom Dr. JOHNSON used to call ‘Little Daily Graphic.’”

* * * * *

[Illustration:  OUT OF IT!

("And the subsequent Proceedings interested him no more.”)

NEWSPAPER-BOY. “‘ERE Y’ARE, SIR!  LATEST RESULTS O’ THE POLL, SIR!”

REJECTED CANDIDATE (growls).  “OH!  GO TO THE DEUCE!!”]

* * * * *

[Illustration:  HISTORY REPEATS ITSELF.

Lady Godiva. “NOW PROMISE ME, YOU DEAR GOOD MAN, PROMISE ME YOU’LL VOTE FOR LORD JAMES, AND I’LL—­I’LL DIV YOU A TISS!”]

* * * * *

THE END OF HENLEY.

(FRAGMENT FROM A HISTORICAL SKETCH YET TO BE WRITTEN.)

[Illustration]

It was shortly after the middle of July, 1892, that the Great Representative of the British Race stood upon the Victoria Embankment, watching the river-steamers as they passed to and fro.  There were few persons about, for the General Election was over, and civilised London was out of Town.  Some of civilised London had gone abroad, some were in Scotland, some by the Sea.  So the Great Representative expected to see no one.