FullReads

“Good gracious!–you don’t say so?”

“I don’t say, of course I don’t say so of Dr. Rhubarb. I only supposed a case,” replied the wily caucuser.

“A case? Yes-s-s; a feller would be a case, under them circumstances. I’m down on doctors, then, Twist; but what do you say to Blowpipes? He’s one of our best speakers–“

” Gas! ” pointedly responded Twist.

“Gas? Well, you voted for him last year, when he run for Congress; you were the first man to nominate him, too!”

“So I was, and I voted for him, drummed for him, fifed and blowed; that was no reason for my thinking him the best man we had for the office. He’s a demagogue, an ambitious, sly, selfish feller, as we could skeer up; but, he was in our way, we couldn’t get shut of him; I proposed the nomination, and tried to elect him, so that we should get him out of the way of our local affairs, and more deserving and less pretendin’ men could get a chance, don’t you see? Now, Flambang, you’re the man I’m goin’ in for to-night!”

“Me! Mr. Twist? Why, bless your soul, I don’t want office!”

“Come, now, don’t be modest. I’ll lay the ground-work, you’ll be nominated–I’ll not be known in it–you’ll get the nomination–called out for a speech–so be on the trigger–give ’em a rouser, and you’re in!”

Poor Flambang, a modest, retiring man, peaceable proprietor of a small shop, in which, by the force of prudence and economy, he has laid up something, has a voice among his fellow-citizens and some influence, but would as soon attempt to carry a blazing pine knot into a powder magazine, or “ship” for a missionary to the Tongo Islands, as to run for the Legislature and make a speech in public! Twist knows it; he guesses shrewdly at the effect.

“Why don’t you run?” says Flambang, after many efforts to get his breath.

“Me? Well, if you don’t want to run.”

” Run? I would as soon think of jumping over the moon, as running for office!” answers Flambang. “But I thank you, thank you kindly, for your good intentions, for your confidence(!), Twist, and whatever good I can do for you, I’ll do, and–“

Twist having secured the first step to his plot, enters the caucus chamber in deep and earnest consultation with Flambang, and while preparations are being made to “histe the rag,” he is seen making converts to his sly purposes, upon the same principle by which he converted his modest friend, Flambang.

“Who are you going in for to-night?” asks another “ambitious for distinction” unterrified of “a brother.”

“Well, I don’t know; it’s hard to tell; good many wants to be nominated, and good many more than will be,” was the cogent reply.

“That’s a fact!” was the equally clear response. “But ‘tween you and I, Pepper–I’d like to get the nomination for the Senate myself!”

“No-o-o?”

“Yes, sir; why shouldn’t I? Hain’t I stood by the party?”

“Well, and hain’t I stood by it, hung by it, fastened to it?”

“Pepper, you have; so have I; now, I’ll tell you what I’ll do. You hang by me, for the Senate, and I’ll go in for you for the House.”

“Agreed; hang by ’em, give ’em a blast, first opening, and while you are fifing away for me, I’ll go around for you, Captain Johns.”

“Flammer, you going to go in for Smithers, to-night?” asks another of “the party,” of a confederate.

“Smithers? I don’t know about that; I don’t think he’s the right kind of a man for mayor, any how; do you?”

“Well, you know he’s an almighty peart chap in talkin’, and I guess he’ll be elected, if he’s nominated and goes around speaking; but here he is; let’s feel his pulse.” After a confab of some minutes between Flammer, Smithers, and Skyblue, things seem to be fixed to mutual satisfaction, and something is “dropped” about “go in for me for the Mayoralty, I’ll go in for you for the Senate,” etc.

“Don’t let on, that I’m anxious, at all, you know,” says Smithers, to which the two allies Skyblue and Flammer respond–“O, of course not!”

Now the curtain rises, the meeting’s organized, with as much formality, fuss and fungus as the opening of the House of Parliament; soon is heard the work of balloting for nominations, and soon it is known that Twist is the man for the Senate–this calls Twist out; he spreads–feels overpowered–this unexpected (!) event–attending as a spectator, not anticipating any thing for himself–proud of the unexpected honor–had long served as a private in the ranks of the unterrified –die in the front of battle, if his friends thought proper, etc., etc. And Twist falls back, mid great applause of the multitude, to give way to Capt. Johns, who also felt overpowered by the unexpected rush of honor put upon him, in connecting his name with the senatorial ticket. He was proud of being thought capable of serving his country, etc., etc.; gave his friend Pepper “a first-rate notice.” Pepper was nominated, made a speech, and so highly piled up the agony in favor of Smithers, that Smithers was nominated–made a speech in favor of Skyblue and Flammer, upon the force of which both were nominated–the wheel within a wheel worked elegant; and the organs next day were sublimely eloquent upon the result of the grand caucus–candidates–unanimity–etc., etc., of these subterranean politicians. So are our great men manufactured for the public.