on the shoulder, with the true democracy of the politician, and said jocosely:     

       “Well, we Budds may not be what you call great people, but, thank God, none of us have ever been in the penitentiary,” and he laughed loudly, thinking that he had scored a great and jolly point. The two young men looked exceedingly grave and Uncle Tommie panic-stricken. He plucked the Hon. Sam by the sleeve and led him aside:     

       “I reckon you made a leetle mistake thar. Them two fellers' daddy died in the penitentiary last spring.” The Hon. Sam whistled mournfully, but he looked game enough when his opponent rose to speak—Uncle Josh Barton, who had short, thick, upright hair, little sharp eyes, and a rasping voice. Uncle Josh wasted no time:     

       “Feller-citizens,” he shouted, “this man is a lawyer—he's a corporation lawyer”; the fearful name—pronounced “lie-yer”—rang through the crowd like a trumpet, and like lightning the Hon. Sam was on his feet.     

       “The man who says that is a liar,” he said calmly, “and I demand your authority for the statement. If you won't give it—I shall hold you       personally responsible, sir.”      

       It was a strike home, and under the flashing eyes that stared unwaveringly, through the big goggles, Uncle Josh halted and stammered and admitted that he might have been misinformed.     

       “Then I advise you to be more careful,” cautioned the Hon. Samuel sharply.     

       “Feller-citizens,” said Uncle Josh, “if he ain't a corporation lawyer—who is this man? Where did he come from? I have been born and raised among you. You all know me—do you know him? Whut's he a-doin' now? He's a fine-haired furriner, an' he's come down hyeh from the settlemints to tell ye that you hain't got no man in yo' own deestrict that's fittin' to represent ye in the legislatur'. Look at him—look at him! He's got FOUR eyes! Look at his hair—hit's PARTED IN THE MIDDLE!” There was a storm of laughter—Uncle Josh had made good—and if the Hon. Samuel could straightway have turned bald-headed and sightless, he would have been a happy man. He looked sick with hopelessness, but Uncle Tommie Hendricks, his mentor, was vigorously whispering something in his ear, and gradually his face cleared. Indeed, the Hon. Samuel was smilingly       

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