The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1922-12-29


mutton-head the other day he said our
candidate ought to be farmer, a man
of the common people, and when I
asked him where he'd find anybody
more "a man Of the common people
than Beas1ey, he said Beasley was too
much of a society man to suit hint
The idea Of Dave as society man.
was too much for me, and l laughed
In Sim Peek's face, but that didn't
stop Sim Peck Jest hook at the style
he lives In he yelped- Amt he fairly
Tapped in luxury? Look at that big
house he lives int Lock at the way
he goes around in that big car of his
and q niger to drive him, half the
timer i had to holler again, and, Of
course, that made Sam twice as mad
as he started out to be; and he went
off swearing he'd show me, before the
campaign was over. The only trouble
he and Grist and that crowd could give
us would be by finding out something
against Dave, and they can't do that
because there Isn't anything to find
OUT
a Il
shared his confidence on this lat
ter score, but was somewhat less SAN
guine on some others. There were only
two newspapers of any political in
fiuence in Wainwright, the Despatch
and the Journal, both operated in
the interest of Beasley's party, and
neither had ''come out" for him. The
gossip l heard about our office led me
to think that each was waiting to see
what Roadway Sim Peck and his fac
ton would make; the journal espe-
cially, knew, had some inclination to
coquette with Peck, Grist, and Com
pany. Altogether, their faction was
not entirely to be despised.
Thus, my thoughts were a great deal
more occupied with Beasley's chances
than with the holiday spirit that now,
with furs and bells and wreathing
mists Of snow, breathed good cheer
over the town. SO little, indeed, had
this spirit touched me, that, one eve
ming when one of my colleagues,
standing before the grate-fire in the
reporters room, yawned and said he'd
be glad when tomorrow was over, ]
asked him what was the particular
trouble with tomorrow.
Christmas he explained, Ian
guidly. Always SO tedious. Like
Sunday"
1T makes me homesick," said an
other, q melancholy little man who
was forever Dragging of his native
Duluth.
Christmas ! repeated "tomor-
row.
It was Christmas eve, and ! had not
known it! ] leaned back in my chai-
in sudden loneliness, what pictures
coming before me of long-ago Christ
mas, ewes at home !-old Christmas
ewes when there was q Tree. {.
My name was called; the night city
editor had an assignment for me. go
up to Sim Peck's, on Madison street."
he said, He thinks he's got some
thing on David Beasley, but won't
say any more over the telephone. See
what there is in it."
picked. up my hat and coat, and
left the office at speed which must
have given my superior the highest
conception of my journalistic zeal. At
telephone station on the next corner
/ called up Mrs. opportunities house
and asked for Mr.. Dowden.
What are you doing?" demanded,
when his voice responded.
Playing bridge" he answered.
"Are you going out anywhere?"
mo. What's the troable?'
It'll tell you later. may want to
see you tonight before I go back to
the Office"
"All right. I'll be at home all the
evening"
hung up the receiver and made off
on my errand.
Down town the streets were crowd
ed with the package-laden people,
bending heads and shoulders to the
bitter wind, which swept a binding,
sleet-like snow horizontally against
them. At corners it struck so tumul.
tuous blow upon the chest of the Pc
destrians that for a moment it would
49,