any other district. That's the reason Tammany never makes the
mistake the Fusion outfit always makes of sendin' men into the
districts who don't know the people, and have no sympathy with
their peculiarities- We don't put a silk stockin' on the Bowery, nor
do we make a man who is handy with his fists leader of the
Twenty-ninth. The Fusionists make about the same sort of a
mistake that a repeater made at an election in Albany several years
ago. He was hired to go to the polls early in a half-dozen election
districts and vote on other men's names before these men reached
the polls. At one place, when he was asked his name by the poll
clerk, he had the nerve to answer "William Croswell Doane."

"Come off. You ain't Bishop Doane," said the poll clerk.

"The hell I ain't, you--I" yelled the repeater.

Now, that is the sort of bad judgment the Fusionists are guilty of.
They don't pick men to suit the work they have to do.

Take me, for instance. My district, the Fifteenth, is made up of all
sorts of people, and a cosmopolitan is needed to run it successful.
I'm a cosmopolitan. When I get into the silk-stockin' part of the
district, I can talk grammar and all that with the best of them. I
went to school three winters when I was a boy, and I learned a lot
of fancy stuff that I keep for occasions. There ain't a silk stockin' in
the district who ain't proud to be seen talkin' with George
Washington Plunkitt, and maybe they learn a thing or two from
their talks with me. There's one man in the district, a big banker,
who said to me one day: "George, you can sling the most vigorous
English I ever heard. You remind me of Senator Hoar of