The second veto for canvassers which was printed on the little card said that you must not persuade any one to personate a voter.  I have no idea what it means.  To dress up as an average voter seems a little vague.  There is no well-recognised uniform, as far as I know, with civic waistcoat and patriotic whiskers.  The enterprise resolves itself into one somewhat similar to the enterprise of a rich friend of mine who went to a fancy-dress ball dressed up as a gentleman.  Perhaps it means that there is a practice of personating some individual voter.  The canvasser creeps to the house of his fellow-conspirator carrying a make-up in a bag.  He produces from it a pair of white moustaches and a single eyeglass, which are sufficient to give the most common-place person a startling resemblance to the Colonel at No. 80.  Or he hurriedly affixes to his friend that large nose and that bald head which are all that is essential to an illusion of the presence of Professor Budger.  I do not undertake to unravel these knots.  I can only say that when I was a canvasser I was told by the little card, with every circumstance of seriousness and authority, that I was not to persuade anybody to personate a voter:  and I can lay my hand upon my heart and affirm that I never did.

The third injunction on the card was one which seemed to me, if interpreted exactly and according to its words, to undermine the very foundations of our politics.  It told me that I must not “threaten a voter with any consequence whatever.”  No doubt this was intended to apply to threats of a personal and illegitimate character; as, for instance, if a wealthy candidate were to threaten to raise all the rents, or to put up a statue of himself.  But as verbally and grammatically expressed, it certainly would cover those general threats of disaster to the whole community which are the main matter of political discussion.  When a canvasser says that if the opposition candidate gets in the country will be ruined, he is threatening the voters with certain consequences.  When the Free Trader says that if Tariffs are adopted the people in Brompton or Bayswater will crawl about eating grass, he is threatening them with consequences.  When the Tariff Reformer says that if Free Trade exists for another year St. Paul’s Cathedral will be a ruin and Ludgate Hill as deserted as Stonehenge, he is also threatening.  And what is the good of being a Tariff Reformer if you can’t say that?  What is the use of being a politician or a Parliamentary candidate at all if one cannot tell the people that if the other man gets in, England will be instantly invaded and enslaved, blood be pouring down the Strand, and all the English ladies carried off into harems.  But these things are, after all, consequences, so to speak.