PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. VOL. 101. August 15, 1891. A TERRIBLE TALE. [Illustration] Alas! it had of course to be! For weeks I had not left my room, When one fell day there came on me An awful doom. A burly rough, who drank and swore, Without a word--I could not shout-- Attacked me brutally, and tore My nails right out. Then, dragging me out to the air-- No well-conducted conscience pricked him-- He mercilessly beat me there, His helpless victim. With cruel zest he beat me well, He beat me till in parts I grew-- I shudder as the tale I tell-- All black and blue. But what on earth he was about, I could not guess, do what I would; But when at length he cleaned me out I understood. Yet do not shed a tear, because You've heard my story told in metre, For I'm a Carpet, and he was A Carpet-Beater. * * * * * LEAVES FROM A CANDIDATE'S DIARY. _Thursday, June 12_.--Letters from Billsbury arrive by every post, Horticultural Societies, sea-side excursions, Sunday School pic-nics, cricket club _fêtes_, all demand subscriptions, and, as a rule, get them. If this goes on much longer I shall be wound up in the Bankruptcy Court. Shall have to make a stand soon, but how to begin is the difficulty. Pretty certain in any case to put my foot down in the wrong place, and offend everybody. Amongst other letters came this one:-- _4, Stone Street, Billsbury, June 10._ [Illustration: "I will give any security you like."] Sir,--I venture to appeal to your generosity in a matter which I am sure you will recognise to be of the highest importance. My services to the Conservative Party in Billsbury are well-known. I can safely say that no man has, during the last ten years, worked harder than I have to promote Conservative interests, and for a smaller reward. My exertions at the last election brought on a violent attack of malarial fever, which laid me up for some months, and from which I still suffer. The shaky character of my hand-writing attests the sufferings I have gone through, and the shattered condition of my bodily health at the present moment. I lost my situation as head-clerk in the Export Department of the Ironmongers' Association, and found myself, at the age of forty, compelled to begin life again with a wife and three children. Everything I have turned my hand to has failed, and I am in dire want. May I ask you, under these circumstances, to be so good as to advance me £500 for a few months. I will give any security you like. Perhaps I might repay some part of the loan by doing work for you during the election. This must be a small matter to a wealthy and generous man like you. To me it is a matter of life and death. Anxiously awaiting your early and favourable reply, and begging you to keep this application a secret, I remain, Sir, Yours, faithfully, HENRY PIDGIN.