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Various

"Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 100, June 6, 1891"

He's supposed to be one of the most
knowing cards in the whole county. A man of about sixty-four, with
light brown hair, rather curly, a wig, say his detractors, but I can't
make my mind up about it yet, as I haven't been able to study him
closely with his hat off. His head is large, face a cross between J.L.
TOOLE's and DIZZY's without the goatee. Always wears a frock-coat of
best broadcloth, and an immense top-hat. Has one curiously protruding
tooth which fascinates me, and makes my attention wander when he's
telling me his anecdotes. I keep wondering how it ever got into that
strange position--a sort of dental rocking-stone, weird, solitary,
inexplicable. Everybody knows him, as he represents the St. Mark's
Ward (which we are canvassing) in the Council. The flourish with which
he always introduces me is wonderful. I might be an Emperor honouring
the place with a visit. But the people take it all as a matter of
course, and seem pleased to see us. They don't care twopence about
real political questions in the back-streets. They mostly say, "My
father was a Blue and his father afore 'im, and I've bin a Blue all my
life, and I ain't a goin' to change my colour now. You're all right,
Sir; you've no call to bother about me. I wish you success." They
don't mind being asked any amount of questions as to where they lived
before, how long they've been in their present houses, and so on.


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