shore as you're a-settin' on that hoss, and you won't hav' to hit a durn lick to earn it.”      

       I had not the heart to smile—nor did the Hon. Samuel—so artless and simple was the man and so pathetic his appeal.     

       “You see—you'll divide my vote, an' ef we both run, ole Josh Barton'll git it shore. Ef you git out o' the way, I can lick him easy.”      

       Mr. Budd's answer was kind, instructive, and uplifted.     

       “My friend,” said he, “I'm sorry, but I cannot possibly accede to your request for the following reasons: First, it would not be fair to my constituents; secondly, it would hardly be seeming to barter the noble gift of the people to which we both aspire; thirdly, you might lose with me out of the way; and fourthly, I'm going to win whether you are in the way or not.”      

       The horseman slowly collapsed while the Hon. Samuel was talking, and now he threw the leg back, kicked for his stirrup twice, spat once, and turned his horse's head.     

       “I reckon you will, stranger,” he said sadly, “with that gift o' gab o'       yourn.” He turned without another word or nod of good-by and started back up the creek whence he had come.     

       “One gone,” said the Hon. Samuel Budd grimly, “and I swear I'm right sorry for him.” And so was I.     

       An hour later we struck the river, and another hour upstream brought us to where the contest of tongues was to come about. No sylvan dell in Arcady could have been lovelier than the spot. Above the road, a big spring poured a clear little stream over shining pebbles into the river; above it the bushes hung thick with autumn leaves, and above them stood yellow beeches like pillars of pale fire. On both sides of the road sat and squatted the honest voters, sour-looking, disgruntled—a distinctly hostile crowd. The Blight and my little sister drew great and curious attention as they sat on a bowlder above the spring while I went with the Hon. Samuel Budd under the guidance of Uncle Tommie Hendricks, who introduced him right and left. The Hon. Samuel was cheery, but he was plainly nervous. There were two lanky youths whose names, oddly enough, were Budd. As they gave him their huge paws in lifeless fashion, the Hon. Samuel slapped one 

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