Williams news., 1910-01-08
DEFINITIONS OF
 A CLODHOPPER
By E. z. MARK.


 ready in prepar ration for the coming county elections throughout the territory and we hear the muflied voices of ring leaders as they whisper the names of the possible candidates.
 It is, and has been for some time past the custom to boost the man that has the most financially, and as the pendulum swings from the one to the other extreme, knock the smaller fry a step further down. It makes no difference how Big Injun got his wealth, or it's equival- ent ''pull," just so he has it. Boost him up the line, every laborer, every professional man, everybody give Big Iniun a boost. Hang over the polls sign to read "To Him That Hath Shall Be Given" and see that he gets it.
 If gentleman from the ranks of la bor aspires for office, slur him, and give him a resounding kick that will send him headlong down the dusty road, and call MT. Big Injun.
 Beneath the yoke of servitude there fingers many an aching heart. Beneath the greasy hat there exists many a brilliant mind. Yes, in the grimy and shattered fragments on mankind found in mills and shops are to be found Sampson's, Lincoln's, and Napoleon's, Web ster's and Evans but their voices are silenced by the roar of the rabble. Remember "Mr. Man on the string" that in other breasts, beats the thought of ambition, breathes the breath of statesman ship and burns the eternal fires of loyalty. Remember as you register the kick that dooms to disappoint- ment some benefactor of humanity, that you are crushing out the very salvation of this great America.
 Glance about the millions of toilers, heroes worthy of Nopoleonic ia me. who labor in the mine, freeze in snow, struggle in the black holes in the ground. a strain of muscles amid the sparks of great iron works to perpetuate capital. They, like spiders, weave cables in the air at risk of life and limb; they, bent double, are taken from cassions be- heath murky waters; they fall pros trate in torrid climes; they perish in the cold for you with your feet on the mantle and a fifty cent Habana twixt your teeth sit and blow idle rings of smoke, and long for luxuries this world cannot afford, while you only wish you were insured of the same comfort in the great beyond.
 Who erects the palaces grand? Who gauges the great tunnels in mountain sides? Who makes the furniture in your household? Who bakes the bread you eat? Why the man and woman who labors, of course. Who does Mr. Big Iniun go to and pat him on the back when he wants the boost? To the laborer, You can't live without him. He is as necessary to your existance as the food you eat. If all laborers were to be carried off by pestilence, and the Big Injun family left to survive, could the laborer then be appreciated?
 Again an election is coming around. If one solitary laborer asks for chance, gag him. kick him out and run up the emblem of the free, the stars and stripes. It would certainly disgrace the court house of any respectable county for a shop man, miner, mill man or any other laborer to be elected, no matter how well qualified.
 If he calls at your home, send for the policeman, your house has been tainted. Don let your daugh ter talk to a man in overalls for |