The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1912-10-26

sense of oneness with them. Murchell and his machine, Sheehan and his con trol, seem far away, unreal, impossible.
 The candidates, properly acclaimed, and their party of distinguished citi- zens are on the platform. The benches are filled. Around them stands fringe of men, mostly farmers, who in the rush for seats have been too slow. John, sandwiched in between Sheehan and Congressman Jenkins, looks out over the audience, strange question in his eyes. He is seeking reason" as though it were to be found written on the faces of the men before him.
 The speaking begins. After short preliminary speech the chairman intro duces Beck, candidate for treasurer, as inconsiderable now as he will be when in office. Then comes Parrott, a fla nous corporation lawyer, whose fea- lures somehow suggest that he is well named. He is adept in the use of those phrases which elicit enthusiasm, but do not convince. After him Mark Sherrod. state senator, a tall, suave man with a magnetic something about him. One of his eyes has slight cast and gives his face sinister expression which not
  move. He is a coming man. Already a power in the big eastern city, it is whispered that he is planning to sue ceed Beck in the treasurership. And after him the Hon. G. Washington Jen- kins, congressman from the district, Lincolnian in figure, shri1l and nasal of voice, but with the old campaigner's fund of stories and a rough and ready eloquence that catches the crowd in spite of his time worn arguments.
 The front seats roar their approval. From the fringe of farmers, Jim Shee- han observes, comes only grim silence. There is an uneasy sense that Jerry Brent's suspicious have not been an wered.
 Through it all John sat, hardly mov- ing. But within him was tumult. He was contrasting the grandiloquent, vir- tuous phrases with the machine as he had seen it. And he knew that in the devious devices of which he could not help hearing hints in his campaigning he had caught but a glimpse of the thing-the machine. He did not believe that good employs evil to it's ends; by its agencies a cause was to be judged. He sighted along the line Of those who profited by it-Sheehan, Beck, Parrott, Sherrod, Murcheu. The line was lost in the mist of his incomplete knowl- edge. This knowledge, his ranking suspicious, Brent's questionings,5 rose up to confront him, demanding a "rea- son. He could not find it. And the people-the sturdy, patient, hard headed men out there-were they such dolts as to be fooled by the hollow mockery be- ing enacted before them? He could not believe it. And yet he-he who doubted-was expected to play part in the mocl2ery, to give the lie to his inner consciousness, to befog the issue in the minds of the listeners, to take his place in the ranks of the machine. The speech in his pocket burned to the skin.
 The tumult was still raging when the Hon. Wash Jenkins concluded his forid peroration and the applause died down.
 Vaguely, as from a distance, John
 heard the chairman introduce SeNew
 Chelsea's candidate' and the sudden cheers that rose. He did not realize, although Parrott and Sherrod did, that in the cheers was a quality not felt in the other greetings that night He rose
 mechanically. He hardly knew when Sheehan, grasping his arm, shouted into his ear: Don't forget the state ticket. Play it up hard!''
 He stood silent before them. The
 well conned speech, with it's smooth
 periods, the dramatic clfmaxes, to
 which his clear, flexible voice lent it
 self so beautifully, refused to be ut tered. He could not speak the lie he had prepared; a reason he had not. At last words came, in a dry, sup | pressed voice. He did not mean to be | facetious, and no one laughed at his grave protesting irony
 ''We have heard tonight of the past | glories of our party, and of glories 1 that are of the nation. I shall not re- | peat, lest repetition dull their point. I have been asked not to forget the state ticket, in fact, to play it up hard. need hardly speak for the gentle men who have so eloquently spoken | for themselves. presume they do not wish to be saddled with responsibility 1 for any of my shortcomings. nor do I | wish to be judged by theirs. I am candidate for office. If you think me 1 the sort of man to administer that of fee honestly and we'll without fear or 1 favor, and as my own man, I shall be happy. If you don't think that, you can't believe that any party's history will make me an honest official. And that's all can say.'
 He turned and walked toward the l rear of the platform. The silence con | tfnued. Slack jaws fell stacker. The fringe of farmers stood motionless, be- wildered, slow to grasp the signiA- canoe of the short speech. Through | the silence the voice of Jim Sheehan, 1 first to recover presence of mind, car ried over the crowd to Main street.