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The Kahekurukariki Election.

Of course every man has some prejudice in favor of his own profession; and I, a reporter, am a little inclined to magnify the importance of mine. On the subject of the value of shorthand, I have been called an enthusiast. Only this week I read a little newspaper item by some smart writer, ridiculing the authorities for teaching so useless an art to the police, and suggesting that Volapük would perhaps be the next addition to Robert's curriculum. I have had some experience in the courts, and I could tell of more than one case where a failure of justice would have been averted if the police had been able to take verbatim notes. In my own experience I had an instance of the value of the art which may be worth recording, as by its means I was instrumental not only in breaking up a very pretty conspiracy, but incidentally of bringing about a reform in the electoral law in a certain British colony. The story is perhaps a little out of date now; but the affair created some interest at the time.

I was then reporter and sub. on the Kahekurukariki Chronicle. You think that the local name is a good mouthful, and you would like to know what it means. I cannot certainly say: native scholars disputed fiercely over that very point. It was written in a dozen different ways before it settled down by official authority, in the form in which I have given it. Some said it should be written Ka-Keriku-Kariki, others Kakeheri-Kura-ka-Ariki, and each disputant had a legendary or mythical—generally very mythical—translation and explanation. The township was situated on a small flat in the course of a narrow and steep valley, through which flowed a sinuous stream, the precipitous sides clothed with dense bush. One authority held that the name was full of beautiful and poetic significance—that it signified the rippling and susurrus of the wind in the tree-tops, and the clashing of the branches. Personally, I inclined to the etymology insisted upon by the oldest inhabitant, who said that the word was simply the native rendering of the name Corkscrew Creek, given to the locality by some of the pioneers. However, if it was not a native name, it might easily pass for one, and it always took a handful of k's to spell it out. It was usually pronounced, and occasionally written, « Cockaleeky, » which showed, at all events, that the English attempts at pronouncing native words were no more successful than the natives' efforts at English. At the head of the valley and over-shadowing the settlement, was the lofty Ngarara Range, snow-capped two or three months out of the twelve.

At this particular time the Gully was in a political ferment. A railway had come that way and opened up a temporary timber trade that had brought a considerable population; mostly new arrivals in the land, of varied nationalities, and who had no respect for the old landmarks. Thirty years before the pioneer settlers had penetrated a trackless region, had subdued a difficult country, and had taxed themselves to open up communication with the distant port. Many had dropped out in the toilsome struggle, and those who remained were mostly men of substance. By many of the newcomers, they were nick-named land-robbers, tyrants, and bloated aristocrats. It was much the same throughout the country. Those who had not only taken their lives in their hands and made the colony habitable for their successors, but who had laid down a broad and free political constitution, were denounced and reviled by those who had entered into the fruit of their labors. More than this, they were threatened with various forms of special and vindictive taxation, which should strip them of such provision as they had made for their closing years. One of the early settlers, who had long represented the district, had died, and a young man named Bingham, the son of another old colonist, who had taken an active part in all local movements and was deservedly popular, had been elected in his stead, a few months before. He was returned by a narrow majority, and a strange fact was, that the votes polled exceeded by over two hundred the entire adult male population of the district. His committee declared that the rolls had been « stuffed, » and by way of test posted a circular, registered, to every elector on the roll; and three hundred and twenty-five copies came back through the Dead Letter Office marked « Unclaimed » or « Unknown. » It was generally admitted that the rolls were in a scandalous condition; but too many members owed their election to that very fact to be anxious for any alteration. A thorough measure of reform, involving the annual cancelling of the entire roll, and imposing a small fee for registration, had certainly been proposed during the previous session, but was rejected. In its place was carried a provision that after each election all those who had not recorded their votes should be struck off. This, it was asserted would « purify » the rolls. How it worked in practice soon became manifest.

The candidate, Augustus Glisser, who so nearly defeated Bingham, was quite a new-comer, and nothing was known of his antecedents. Some eighteen months earlier he had found his way to the Corkscrew as a travelling freethought lecturer, and had been stranded there for lack of funds. He made the best of his position, and soon discovered that his lines had fallen in pleasant places. He lectured on many subjects; but without any trace of originality. By a series of orations on Home Rule he won the hearts of the Irish settlers, and was appointed life member and treasurer of the Australasian-Milesian Exiles Benefit Club. A course of lectures on trades unions led to his election as life member and treasurer both of the Bushfellers' Union and of the Shearers' Union. He was also appointed to the dignity of Grand Old Man Kangaroo of the Order of Benevolent Marsupials. (This was a local benefit society, and the annual procession of the members in « regalia, » with long-eared fur caps and pouched aprons, was a great event in the Gully. It was said that their admission ceremony, when the brethren, in full rig, formed a circle and hopped three times round the initiate, with their hands bent downwards, was an impressive spectacle. It was undoubtedly a really useful society, and had considerable invested funds. It was not incorporated, as the Registrar refused to recognize the scale of contributions.) He lectured on Henry George, and was appointed Perpetual President and Treasurer of the Chevaliers d'Industrie. He took up « Looking Backward, » and became Chief Organizer of the Socialistic Bellamites. In my capacity of reporter I saw and heard more of him than I cared. He was short, florid, and coarse-featured; unpleasantly familar in his manners, and with a disagreeable swagger; a fluent but poor speaker with a harsh strident voice. His breath was strongly flavored with rum and cigars. His lectures were mere dilutions of certain well-known books, and when he departed in the least degree from his authorities he was all astray—as for instance, when he asserted, as I once heard him do, that the book of Job was written by an Alexandrian Jew in the fourth century of the Christian era. He said he had been an actor, and had in his time played many parts. He had been a journalist. He had been a prisoner for alleged criminal libel in upholding the rights of the people. But one part he had not played—he had not been a member of parliament; and with a wink at Bingham, who was driving past the hotel where he stood with some friends, he added that he had not yet fallen so low as that.

He was an adroit flatterer, and under his influence the idle and discontented members of the community became not only more shiftless than ever, but loud and aggressive. They had learned that they page 72were the salt of the earth, and that their more prosperous neighbors were parasites, fattening on their toil. One of his lectures was entitled « Thrift is bosh. » He maintained that if every man were saving and economical, no one would be the better off; that if every man were sober and industrious there would still be no more work to do, with twice as many people competing to do it. Individualism must go—private property must go. The wealth of the country was estimated at about £85 per head. What need would there be for weary toil if that were fairly divided?—as one day it would be. The share of the working-man with ten children would be £1,020—think of that! All the gains of thrift, industry, and sobriety went—and always would go under present social arrangements—to the Tyrant Landlord. To this, at the close of the address, an Irishman demurred. « It's aisy to see, » he said, « that the beer-soaker's money goes to the landlord; so does the shearer's when he knocks down his cheque; but for the life of me I don't see how he gets the cash from the sober and thrifty man—he gets none of mine. »

« Our friend, » said Glisser, « has mistaken my meaning. By the landlord, I do not mine host—a very worthy man, as a general rule, —but the usurper who claims private ownership in the soil. »

« Faith, its all right, then, » was the reply— « for that's myself. I've my own little freehold, as every hardworking thrifty man in this country may have, and by that token its my own pocket my savings go into, as I thought they did. » And the effect of that lecture was spoiled.

The foreign population in the Gully were from almost all parts of Europe, Some had but recently arrived, few could speak or read the English language; and all were absolutely ignorant of colonial history and politics. All had the franchise, though not one would have crossed the street to place his name on the roll. An astute country politician had brought this about some years before. Suspecting that he was losing the confidence of his own countrymen, he bethought him of some hundreds of foreigners in his district. He proposed and carried an « Aliens' Relief Act » by which on payment of sixpence stamp-duty any foreigner could secure letters of naturalization. As the process cost the country about two guineas for each foreigner, the arrangement was scarcely a profitable one for the public; but it was an excellent one for the shrewd politician, who owed his re-election to the alien vote. Others had followed his example, and by the expenditure of a few pounds Mr Glisser had enrolled a prodigious number of foreigners on the « Corkscrew » roll, and had succeeded in establishing himself in their favor. He had also worked up a joint-stock concern and started a political organ—the Ngarara Press— commonly called the Ngarara—in opposition to the Chronicle. Some people said that the literal and appropriate meaning of the title was the Reptile Press. It was chiefly filled with abuse of Bingham. From the crown of his hat to the soles of his boots nothing escaped criticism, and his wife and mother-in-law were not forgotten. Journalism of this kind was new to the Corkscrewites, but to many of them it was very acceptable. Some of them were really gratified, too to learn for the first time that they were serfs, oppressed under a tyranny worse than Muscovite despotism or American slavery, and that by hurling the oppressor Bingham from his place they would earn the gratitude of unborn millions. So much success had attended the tactics of the ambitious Glisser that when the election took place Bingham's friends were very apprehensive as to the result; and as it turned out, he was only returned by a majority of eighteen. The extraordinary number of votes polled aroused suspicion, and the experiment of the registered letters revealed the condition of the rolls.

The Parliament to which Mr Bingham was returned was very near its close, and he had only held his seat for one brief session, during which he made a very favorable impression. It had now been dissolved, and Bingham and Glisser were again in the field—the latter, with the help of the various bodies to which he belonged, and the Ngarara, for which he wrote the leading articles, being confident of success.

Parties were very evenly balanced in Parliament, and Bingham was on the opposition side. As the Corkscrew was held to be a stronghold of his party, every effort was made to eapture it. No Minister had ever visited the place before—now we had three in one week—one having travelled by special express train from the far end of the colony. Glisser, resplendent in broadcloth, beaver, and patent leather boots, walked up and down the main street with the Premier on one arm, and the Minister of Finance on the other. This created a profound impression, which was deepened by the extreme affability of these gentlemen, as well as their liberal promises of public expenditure in this hitherto neglected district, which they made at the public meeting held in their honor. The Minister of Mines was the third to appear, and he made an expedition with Glisser some distance up the difficult gorge of the Corkscrew, where in four hours they discovered beds of coal and graphite, ores of copper, antimony, and platinum, and strong indications of petroleum. (The Minister of Mines was quite ignorant of practical mining, and knew nothing of geology.) A large grant was promised to develop the mineral resources of the district, and the population were jubilant. A bridge was to be erected across the stream, eight miles from the township. What it was for, no one knew, as the spot was almost inaccessible, and to make a road to it would be a costly and useless expense. Still as the Ministers put it, the place had pined under the blasting influence of a Tory administration, and a little free expenditure of public money was the first essential to its revival. A new post-office, court-house, and police-station were to be built forthwith; and but for the insensate stupidity of the Commissioners who unfortunately controlled the public railways, a station with sheds and workshops, which would cost some £30,000 to erect, would at once be proceeded with. But the Commissioners would not listen to the proposal. Parliament, however, would probably have something to say on the subject. These were not the Ministers' exact words, but the Ngarara's paraphrase. The same paper also pointed out that this glorious outburst of political sunshine, and the approaching golden shower, were entirely due to the shrewdness, the devotion, and the high-souled patriotism of Mr Glisser.

The Registrar was hard at work compiling the electoral roll, and a terrible task he had. Every facility had been given for registration, and all checks against plural enrolment had been removed. His predecessor had been discharged from the civil service for handing doubtful claims over to the police for investigation, which was held to be an outrage upon a democratic community. Every day Mr Glisser would walk into the office with a great roll of claims. Even when the Registrar communicated with the Colonial Secretary, and questioned the propriety of adding twenty-two names in a batch when the signatures were manifestly all in one handwriting, he received a sharp reprimand for his pains.

The foreign element, too, was perplexing. There was a Scandinavian settlement a few miles away, where every male adult was either Ole Nilssen, Ole Olsen, Nils Nilssen, or Nils Olsen. The local postmaster had grown gray-haired over the letter-delivery. Many of the tradesmen's accounts addressed to these gentlemen had to be returned unclaimed; while frequent disputes arose to the ownership of letters containing valuable enclosures. Locally they were identified by adjectives, such as lange Ole Olsen, gamle Nils Nilssen, or Be'stefa'er Olsen; but no such distinctions appeared on the roll, where every man of them was simply described as « residential, farmer. » And Glisser had registered about twice as many Olsens and Nilssens as there were in the district!

In a few days thirty laborers came up by rail to work at the new bridge. All were promptly enrolled. As no material could be conveyed to the spot, they were engaged in the preliminary task of felling timber and constructing « approaches. » The polling-places were next gazetted—eleven in all, some in the most out-of-the-way places imaginable, one being specially arranged for the benefit of the bridge-contractor and his hands. The polling-day was fixed; two voluble private members from remote districts were sent up to harangue the electors in Glisser's interest, and nothing remained but to complete the roll.

I was on Bingham's committee, and as Glisser's party increased in confidence, our spirits fell. Every preparation had been made by the other side for the approaching victory. Triumphal arches were page 73ready; also an effigy of Bingham, to be paraded around, hanged, and burnt; and a big transparency representing the fallen foe, with the motto (in bush Latin) sic simper tyrranis, had been painted by a broken-down scene-painter, who acted as roustabout at the local hotel. This place was really Glisser's committee-room, though to satisfy the law, a nominal committee-room, where one or two of his supporters might always be found, had been opened lower down in the village. The hotel was a tall three-story wooden structure, called the « rabbit-hutch, » on account of its many small rooms and passages. It was a little way up the narrow, gully, built against the steep hill-side, which had been excavated to make room for it. In connexion with the premises were a bowling-saloon, a tobacconists' shop, and a gambling-den; and most of the rascality of the place was concocted there.

It was two days before the election, and our committee-meeting was prolonged late into the night. We were determined to make a fight, but felt helpless against the organized corruption all around, and the well-stuffed roll. Our only hope lay in detecting some of the personators, and ultimately upsetting the election by petition on the ground of corrupt practices. Eleven of our picked men were told off as scrutineers—I was one, and to me was assigned the out-of-the-way booth where the bridge-laborers were expected to vote. A determined effort had been made in a previous Parliament to abolish scrutineers, as inconsistent with Democratic Institutions, and as interfering with the liberty of the voter. It was unsuccessful, so one slight safeguard yet remained. As we discussed the situation till long past the midnight hour, the strains of the local brass band floated down to us at intervals from the large room of the hotel. They had been hired by Glisser's committee, and were rehearsing by turns the Conquering Hero and the Rogue's March—the latter to be performed during the effigy-burning solemnity.

I took my homeward way along a steep hillside road which led up the Gully. In many places the hill had been quarried away close to the road, and protecting-fences had been erected. Over one of these fences I leaned, and looked down on the township. I was wearied and worried, and the cool night-air was refreshing. Not a soul seemed stirring in the village. The wind swayed the branches of the forest trees, and they clashed and rustled with a gentle music that seemed to justify the Maori-scholar's etymology. The moreporks hooted at intervals from the branches. There was no moon, and the stars shone with that marvellous brilliance that follows a spell of rain—for we had had torrents of rain during the week, but all was now clearer than ever. Drops still fell from the trees, and tiny springs issued from the hillside. Overhead were the Southern Cross and Pointers—the most glorious cluster of stars in the whole celestial sphere. The Milky Way spread its luminous band from horizon to horizon, and low in the north shone Orion, with the glittering lamps of the Pleiades twinkling as if each one was being extinguished and re-lighted. Eastward the planet Jupiter shone with wondrous brilliancy, and made a broad path of light across the swollen creek far below. The rushing waters swept over the pebbles, and the sound had a curiously soothing effect on my nerves. Wherein lies the spell of the sight and sound of running water? What a strange attraction the retiring wave of the sea has for one whose feet are in the surf! There is more in the recoil of the undertow than the mechanical influence on the muscles—there is a mystic action on the nerves which draws the swimmer back, even against his own volition. And it is said that the many unaccountable suicides at Niagara are due to a kind of mesmeric influence of the rushing waters upon the brain of the traveller.

Was I dreaming? Was the whole hill-side in motion? Down, down,—myself, fence, rocks, stones, mud—all in one avalanche, and the solid earth seventy feet below! Suddenly my fall was checked, while the tons of debris around me continued their downward course. People below hurried out of their houses. « A big slip, » they said, « we knew it would come down some day! » Crawling to my knees, I found that no bones were broken, and that I was on what remained of a light wooden platform projecting from the rear of a building. Then I knew where I was. The upper story of the hotel had been denounced as a « death-trap » in the event of fire, and the authorities had compelled the erection of a platform leading to the precipice behind to afford means of escape in such a contingency. A very proper precaution. It had saved my life.

Just as I was about to call for assistance, a light shone from the window just above me, and the lower sash was raised. Several people appeared to enter the room, and I heard the rasping voice of Glisser.

« Boys, » he said, « there is nothing like science. One-man one-vote, and a thoroughly-purified roll will do the business this time. Everything is ready, and if you carry out instructions, there's a clear majority of two hundred."

I could hear all that passed, as he went on to explain his plans, giving each man a marked roll. Each was to take charge of a body of electors, and conduct them from one polling-place to another. Arrived at the spot, the voters were to have their names and numbers given them, and to vote accordingly. The thirty strangers ostensibly engaged in bridge-building, were to be taken to three polling-places, thus representing ninety votes.

Then he began to read the names and numbers, which his assistants checked off as he read. Here was precise information, and in a moment I had my note-book spread before me, and wrote word for word as he dictated. I have taken notes in bad light, with no light at all, and in odd places; but never under stranger circumstances than on that night, as I knelt on the broken platform, and wrote by the light of the stars. Glisser called off the polling-places by name and number, one to eleven, and then the names of the votes something in this style: « 872 William Murphy, at 1; votes as 1561 John Tuckett at 3; and 1064 Thomas Smith at 5. » In addition to the « bogus » names he had enrolled, he had provided for absentees and dead men whose names had never been struck off. « That cancelling of non-voters was a grand thing, » he said, after the names had been taken down. « Forty-two dead men polled for me six months ago; every ghost of them votes again this time. But Bingham has lost fifteen votes; there was Wilson—he's disfranchised because he'd broken his leg and couldn't go to the polling-booth; young Jennings has forfeited his vote because he was off on a wedding-trip. There is nothing like science. » The whole business had occupied about an hour and a half, and the party broke up, Glisser enforcing upon them the necessity of the strictest attention to his instructions.

All being clear, I pocketed my precious notes, and with some difficulty regained the hill-side path. For about twelve feet the road was entirely gone, with much of the hill behind. A deep scar marked the track of the landslip, and mud and water still oozed out and trickled down. I shuddered as I thought of the peril I had escaped; but my mind was fully occupied with the important information I had gained. Dawn was just streaking the eastern heavens, and I surprised my fellow-committeemen by knocking them all up. We held an early meeting, and before breakfast-time had quite recovered confidence. My notes had been transcribed and arranged in proper order for the scrutineers, every one of whom knew exactly what voters to challenge and on what grounds when personation or duplication were attempted.

A few words of encouragement were also written and rushed into the Chronicle, in which our party were enjoined not to lose a single vote, and assured that they would win by a much larger majority than on the previous occasion—an announcement which excited immense hilarity among the Glisserites. All day beer flowed in the Gully, and the Party of Reform celebrated their victory in advance. Our principal men displayed a quiet confidence such as they had not shown before, and which greatly puzzled their opponents.

On the morning of the contest, Mr Bingham's friends had a disagreeable surprise. All his prominent supporters found daubed on their house-fronts or garden-fences the legend Vote for Glisser in large and hideous characters. Bingham's own house and palings were disfigured not only with this inscription, but with offensive and indecent references to himself. The paint was a horrid compound of yellowish-green and black, mixed with varnish of extraordinary tenacity. So effectually was the work done, that even after the page 74buildings had been scraped, scrubbed, and re-painted, portions of the obnoxious inscriptions were still legible. The perpetrator of the act, which next morning's Ngarara recorded as a capital practical joke, was never detected.

Polling day found found both sides prepared. I was at my post at booth No. 1. Matters were slow enough there in all conscience, for there were only two resident voters, but the bridge-men were expected, and I knew from my notes that it had been selected as a convenient place to poll a dozen or so of votes from the World of Spirits. By-and-by one of these appeared. « 322, Henry Harrison. » I challenged him, but he asserted that he was the freeholder described in the roll. I told the returning officer that I had proof with me that the elector had died five years ago—and the official suddenly remembered the fact. The personator was given in charge. Two other « dead men, » entering at the same time, hurried off in alarm, without giving their names.

Half-an-hour passed, when we heard a noisy chorus of « We'll hang old Bingham to a sour apple-tree. » It was the bridge-laborers. Two coaches had been sent as far as a coach could go to meet them, and they were coming in now in grand style. Number one, applying for his paper, gave « 63, John Frederick Baker. » I challenged him. Is that your name? » asked the officer. He blanched a little, but stood his ground. I had passed a slip to the officer, who asked, « Then why did you register at Kahekurukariki as Samuel Styles? » « I was instructed to, » he replied. « Your real name is James Brown, is it not? » « It is, » said the voter, who was forthwith handed over to a police-officer. There was an immediate stampede of claimants from the booth, and the leader found himself face-to-face with Glisser, who, seeing that a serious hitch had occurred, accused his henchman of « giving him away. » « You have given us away, » was the reply, accompanied by a knock-down blow.

It was much the same at each of the other booths. The would-be personators were panic-stricken, and in some cases refused to vote even on their own qualification—in other cases, believing themselves to be betrayed, they polled for the opposite side. The declaration of the numbers, at 11 p.m., revealed the complete rout of the party, and a majority of 214 votes for Bingham.

This result—which was not altogether unexpected—was received with loud execrations by the defeated party, to whom it suddenly occurred to vent their anger upon the Chronicle. A rush was made to the office, with the avowed intention of tearing it down. This was a feat more easily talked about than accomplished, and the mob, after making a violent demonstration, and breaking all the windows, gradually dispersed.

The Ngarara excelled itself next morning. It accused Bingham's party of every kind of iniquity. The most barefaced coercion had been used, and workmen had been threatened with dismissal and tenants with eviction unless they voted according to order. Even these tactics would have failed but for the unparalleled treachery of one or more of Mr Glisser's committee, who had been working all along in the interests of the other side. No honorable man would envy Bingham a victory gained by such tactics. But his triumph would be of very brief duration. They were already in possession of information which would enable their party to upset the election, and a petition would be lodged forthwith.

This was the last appearance of the Ngarara Press. Its plant was attached during the day by the sheriff under a writ of execution, and the office closed.

Glisser was seen no more. Some connected his disappearance with the fact that a steamer left for the Pacific Coast of America two days after the poll. But his name was long remembered. His committee had to pay his election bills, which were heavy; his numerous private debts are owing still. Both local trades unions found that he had made a clean sweep of their funds, and the current bank account of the Milesians, about £90, had also vanished. Their invested funds were fortunately beyond his reach. But the Marsupials suffered the most. Their current account, according to their books, was £120 3s 9d. The three trustees, with much anxiety, called at the bank to find how it stood. The teller passed them a slip, « Cr. 3/9. »

« I feared so, » said one of the trustees. « But it was a mercy that we had that £500 at fixed deposit. »

« You are mistaken, » said the teller. « The fixed deposit was drawn, with interest, six weeks ago, and carried to current account. Here is the deposit receipt endorsed with your names. It was done in a perfectly regular manner. Your treasurer explained that the society had found another investment, and wished the money to be accessible. Two days ago he withdrew it by cheque, £645, leaving credit balance 3s 9d. The cheque is signed by the trustees, and bears the society's seal. Here it is. »

The officials looked guiltily at each other. They remembered only too well that Glisser had induced them to sign two or three blank cheques— « in case sick-money was urgently required, and some of the trustees out of the way. » And by the same simple process he had robbed the other societies, carrying off, altogether, over £900, the hard-earned savings of industrious men. « Thrift is bosh » had now a new meaning. The Marsupials were furious. They could not reach their G.O.M.K., but they threatened to « make it warm » for the trustees. Fortunately for these gentlemen, the society being unregistered, no legal responsibility could be fixed upon them.

No more Ministers visited the Corkscrew. The laborers were withdrawn from the Gully, and the police-station and post-office were never built. Swift retribution came when Parliament met. They were defeated on the Address-in-Reply by a majority of one. A new electoral reform bill was carried, also by a majority of one. But the party in power gathered strength, and before the close of the session, it was enacted that for next Parliament the number of members should be reduced to 48, and the whole colony thrown into one large constituency. That system has been in force for some years. No man has since been elected who had not made a record and shown some kind of business capacity, and from the date of the change legislation has been national instead of parochial. Local jealousies are dying out; each man feels that he is an elector of the colony, and each member that he represents the whole people. The electoral roll is cancelled annually, and new names are taken only during nine months of the year. A fee of half-a-crown is charged for registration, and cheerfully paid—this covers all expenses of compiling and printing the rolls. Voters' rights are issued, and must be produced and stamped when the vote is recorded. Bribery and personation have been done away with; and the election of an unknown adventurer of the Glisser stamp is out of the question. The tone of Parliament has been raised—there is solid work, with very little loquacity, and the effect on all the local bodies has been good. All this came about by that majority of one, and the Corkscrew election turned the scale. I have often wondered what different course public events would have [unclear: taken] if I had not been so strangely launched down the hill-side that early morning, and Augustus Glisser had been returned—as he would have been—for Kahekurukariki.