Well, you know the voters like that kind of thing.
It appeals to them."
"Well," said another of the Committee men,--I think it
was the one called Mr. Dope, "I wouldn't mind that so
much. But the chief trouble about our man, to my mind,
is that he can't speak."
"He can't?" I exclaimed.
All the Committee shook their heads.
"Not for sour apples!" asserted Mr. Dope positively.
"Now, in this riding that won't do. Our people here are
used to first class speaking, they expect it. I suppose
there has been better speaking in this Constituency than
anywhere else in the whole dominion. Not lately, perhaps;
not in the last few elections. But I can remember, and
so can some of the boys here, the election when Sir John
A. spoke here, when the old Mackenzie government went
out."
He looked around at the circle. Several nodded.
"Remember it as well," assented Mr. Mudd, "as if it were
yesterday."
"Well, sir," continued Mr. Dope, "I'll never forget Sir
John A. speaking here in the Odd Fellows' Hall, eh?"
The Committee men nodded and gurgled in corroboration.
"My! but he was PLASTERED. We had him over at Pete
Robinson's hotel all afternoon, and I tell you he was
plastered for fair.
Pages:
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210