The one you'll meet
first is the chairman--he's about the worst dub of the
lot; I never saw a man with so little force in my life.
He's got no magnetism, that's what's wrong with him--no
magnetism."
A few minutes later the Candidate was introducing me to
a roomful of heavy looking Committee men. Committee men
in politics, I notice, have always a heavy bovine look.
They are generally in a sort of daze, or doped from
smoking free cigars.
"Now I want to introduce you first," said the Candidate,
"to our chairman, Mr. Frog. Mr. Frog is our old battle
horse in this constituency. And this is our campaign
secretary Mr. Bughouse, and Mr. Dope, and Mr. Mudd, et
cetera."
Those may not have been their names.
It is merely what the names sounded like when one was
looking into their faces.
The Candidate introduced them all as battle horses, battle
axes, battle leaders, standard bearers, flag-holders,
and so forth. If he had introduced them as hat-racks or
cigar holders, it would have been nearer the mark.
Presently the Candidate went out and I was left with the
battle-axes.
"What do you think of our chances?" I asked.
The battle-axes shook their heads with dubious looks.
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