The old man was most anxious to vote, but could only do so were
a carriage sent for him, and in less than two hours the poll would
close. My brother Ernest, and my sister-in-law, the present Dowager
Duchess of Abercorn, were at home, and realising the vital importance
of every vote, they went at once up to the stables, only to find that
every available man, horse, or vehicle was already out, conveying
voters to the poll. The stables were deserted. The Duchess recollected
the comfortable old Clarence, and she and my brother together rolled
it out into the yard, but a carriage without horses is rather useless,
and there was not one single horse left in the stalls. My brother
rushed off to see if he could find anything with four legs capable of
dragging a carriage. He was fortunate enough to discover an ancient
Clydesdale cart-mare in some adjacent farm buildings, but she was the
solitary tenant of the stalls. He noticed, however, a three-year-old
filly grazing in the park, and, with the aid of a sieve of oats and a
halter, he at length succeeded in catching her, leading his two
captives triumphantly back to the stable-yard. Now came a fresh
difficulty. Every single set of harness was in use, and the
harness-room was bare.
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