Punch, Or The London Charivari Volume 107, November 10th, 1894 _edited by Sir Francis Burnand_ [Illustration: THE PARLIAMENTARY FLYING MACHINE. _Maxim_--"KEEP IT UP!"] * * * * * THE CHRONICLES OF A RURAL PARISH. I.--FONS ET ORIGO MALI. Snugly nestling in a cosy corner of Blankshire--that county which at different times and places has travelled all over England--our village pursues the even tenor of its way. To be accurate, I should say _did_ pursue, before the events that have recently happened--events in which it would be absurd modesty not to confess I have played a prominent part. Now we are as full of excitement as aforetime we were given over to monotony. _Nous avons_---- No! _J'ai changé tout çela._ It came about in this way. I have always till the 25th of September (a chronicler should always be up to dates) been entirely free from any ambition to excel in public. After a successful life I have settled down with my wife and family to the repose of a truly rural existence. "You should come down and live in the country," I am never tired of telling my friends. "Good air, beautiful milk, and, best of all, fresh eggs." I don't know why, but you are always expected to praise the country eggs. So I always make a point of doing it. Up to September the 25th, accordingly, I extolled the eggs of the country and lived my simple, unpretending life. On that day I read an article in the paper on the Parish Councils Act. I read that now for the first time the people in the villages would taste the sweets of local self-government. The change from fresh eggs struck my fancy, up to that time singularly dormant. I read on, dashing all unknowing to my fate. "It is the duty," I saw, "of every man of education, experience, and leisure in the village who has the welfare of his country at heart to study the Act, and to make it his business that his fellow-parishioners shall know what the Act does, and how the greatest advantage can be obtained from its working." Then my evil genius prompted me to undertake the task myself. I was educated--did I not get a poll degree at Cambridge, approved even by Mr. CHARLES WHIBLEY as a test of culture? I had experience--had I not shone as a financial light in the City for full twenty years? I had leisure--for had I anything in the world to do? Obviously the occasion had come, and I--yes I--was the man to rise to it. I bought twenty-nine works dealing with the Act. I studied them diligently section by section, clause by clause, line by line. I referred to all the Acts mentioned. I investigated all the Acts repealed. At the end of it all I felt like a collection of conundrums. But I was not to be denied. One evening, as I was walking through the village, I met ROBERT HEDGER, "Black BOB," as he is always called. He is a farm hand, and for some reason looked upon as a leader of men in the village. I saw my chance, and promptly took it.