Sacramento daily record-union. [volume] (Sacramento [Calif.]) 1875-1891, 1890-11-09
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were to be early In the winter and much
ground had to be gone over and many peo-
pie seen and talked. and vowed to, VOWS
that were to be kept if elected. Nature
was in a smiling mood, in unison, said some
one, with the candidates. But in truth the
fall weather was glorious, air clear and brac-
ing, not much dust and the lively teams,
buggies and road-carts fairly flew out OF
the valley towns, all heading for the noun
tains-anxious occupants eager for the
mountain mans vote, each and every
candidate declaring that the he, too, was
horny. listed son of toll, and anxious to
clasp another ones horny fist.
In the fray this season was one Joseph
Condor, regular Republican nominee for
District Attorney. He left the valley
town early one morning en- a two months
canvas. The city behind him was bathed
in the rosy light of sunrise; the summit of
the mountains ahead of him were under
their caps of mist, rose-tinted; the green
fields and the fields of wheat stubble still
covered with the night dew that sparkled
on each leaf and stem like diamonds.
"He rode forth as one to conquer" but
his chariot was the more modern top
buggy, side-spring Milburn, made with a
brake for mountain roads.
The first meeting of the candidates was
to be that evening at Lincoln Gulch
school house, and he had promised to be
there and make his first speech. Joe had
never been fluent speaker, even in plead
ing case for client. He had every ad-
vantage of college education, but his
tongue would trip and the color rush to
his face and cause "each particular hair to
stand on end like quilts upon the fretful
porcupine." Then he would run his fingers
through his hair and increase the re-
semblance to that little animal He had
bravely tried to overcome this stage-fright,
and was in hopes that the practice of
speaking every night to different audiences
would be beneficial. He had not sought
the nomination; it had sought him. Since
then he had received every encouragement
from his friends and was in the fight to
win, if possible.
He was a bachelor of 81 considered fine
looking, but the ladies had as yet made no
impression on his heart, and now a course
of politics would doubtless harden that
member, and it was doubtful if they ever
would, but time will tell. Indifferent to
personal success as a candidate, he was
bringing with him fund of ambition for
the success of his party, the "grand old
Republican party" as he called it. So he
drove on. The sun climbing high shone
warmly; the air was clear as he reached
the higher altitude; the sky was blue
without a cloud, and the pine growth, as
he approached the hills, were gorgeous in
the new green they donned for winter.
He was in deep study, thinking over
the remarks he intended to make that
evening, occasionally Ticking the flies
from his horse or speaking an encouraging
word to him as he climbed the steep
grades. The old words of the speech of
Antony's occurred to him: "Friends, Ro-
mans, countrymen, lend me your ears"
The phrase repeated itself in his brain
like Mark Twain's famous "Pink trip slip
for ten-cent fare" With such PERSISTENCE
did it haunt him that he almost gave up
in despair of concentrating his thoughts
on the platform of his party, and the par
ticular planks he was DESTROYS of support
ing.
"Bother," he said aloud, 81 won't need
ears from any one if keep on. Pm such
donkey, no occasion 10 borrow" But his
thoughts were turned into new channel
by the necessity of turning out to give a
lumber-loaded freight team with twelve
horses, whose forty eight jingling bells
gave warning of their approach) chance
to pass him. They seemed to break the
spell and dispel the shadow Of Antony's
speech and compel it to return to the
shades of long ago. When he had clear
road again his ideas were collected and
then he took out his notebook and jotted
down few important points. He rolled
the reins around the whipstock and let
his horse, well-trained one, take his own
time and way.
Joe Condor was not drinking man,
but in obedience to advice given, he was
going to conform to the custom of the
country and treat each man with whom
he talked. But drink himself he could
not, and would not
But he had originated a device where.
by he hoped to cheat the few that wanted
to drink with him. Before starting out
he had visited some glass works in
an adjacent city and obtained an amber
colored flask. Also two or three glasses
parti-colored, that when half-filled with
water gave the impression of finger or
two of the genuine old whisky of Bour-
bon. So while imbibiDg water he was
supposed to be taking something stronger
and pretty straight. This harmless cheat
he, had no scruples of conscience about.
He felt rather like patting himself for
Diplomacy and ability to conform to the
much abused custom that would much
better be abolished to "Grover's" oft
mentioned place, "innocuous desuetude"
But harmless deception sometimes fur
nishes root for trouble even in poll
tics as in all games of life.
AS Joe approached Lincoln Gulch he
was still pinning his winged thoughts to
paper, when loud halloa made HIM drop
his notebook and pick up his reins to guide
his horse from the path which he had
during his masters inattention.
The voice was from the healthy lungs
of an old fellow who was driving cart,
with an old white horse that looked as
if at some past period, probably the ter
tiary period, he had been piebald but
that the spots had worn off. The seat
next to the old man was occupied by an
extremely pretty girl, with the sweetest
eyes Joe had ever seen. This
fact Joe noted as he pulled on one side
in a little cut that had been made to
increase the width Of the grade.
'Wus you Sleep" said the old fellow,
gruffly, as he drew rein.
"No, sir" said Joe, pleasantly, "only
if you were on my side of poll
tics ?" as he lifted his hat in respect to the
young lady.
"Oh, yer one Of the candidates. Wal,
what for, may l ask? Are yer on the
road to shoot off yer mouth, as the boys
say?"
eyes," said Joe, laughing, sat the Lin
coin Gulch school-heuse this evening, and
am the Republican nominee for District
Attorney"
"That So" said the old man, ''if me and
The wimmen folks can get to go we will.
Wimmen, yer know, like to run round
nights to most everything. Evenins is a
pretty drivin' time tho, for we fixes the
fruit to peddle round the next day"
"Oh, you have fruit ranch" said Joe.
How far from here? l should like to
come in and see you on my return"
"a mile and half on the other ridge, |
vest branch Of Feather" said the old
L Al