Mr.Welwyn-Baker was too old and too stout and too shaky for the toil of personal electioneering.

He gave a few dinners at his big house three miles away, and he addressed (laconically) one or two select meetings; for the rest, his name and fame had to suffice.

There was no convincing him that his seat could possibly be in danger.

He smiled urbanely over the reports of Quarrier's speeches, called his adversary "a sharp lad," and continued through all the excitement of the borough to conduct himself with this amiable fatuity.
"I vow and protest," said Mr.Mumbray, in a confidential ear, "that if it weren't for the look of the thing, I would withhold my vote altogether! W.-B.

is in his dotage.