politics."

"It is getting past dinner time. Why not be through with this? What
is the matter?"

These are the questions of the sidewalk inspectors, who perhaps ache to
return to their other public duties.

"It is Corkey's fault--Corkey's fault! But here's the platform, now!"

"We point with the finger of scorn--" reads the clerk in a great voice.

"That's the stuff!" respond the faithful, shaking hands one with
another.

"Order!" scream the bouncers and police. They desire to hear the
platform. It is the hinge on which liberty hangs. It is the brass
idol of politics.

"And the peace, prosperity and general happiness of the American people
will ever remain dear to the party which saved the union and now
reaches a fraternal hand across the bloody chasm!" So reads the clerk.

"That's what! We win on that! They can't answer to that!"

"We demand a free ballot and a fair count!"

"No more bulldozing!" exclaims the bouncer who has heard the plank.

"We guarantee to the sovereign electors of the First district, and to