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And don't you remember that time the 'lection run so clost they got up old bed-ridden Nate Haskins, whose brain had been softenin' for years, and his wife had to dress him and git him ready for the pole, he callin' on his wife, Nancy, to put on every identical garment and tell where it went, and when they got him to the pole he wouldn't vote because Nance wuzn't there to tell him which ticket to vote.
"Ye see, ma'm," Riley continued, "Jimmie is th' man th' big fellers give th' money at 'lection time, an' it's all lift ter him where he puts it. All that responsibility is his, ma'm, an' that makes him quite a feller hisself. Th' other men in th' ward sorter looks up ter him, ma'm. An' thin agin, Jimmie is th' fine speaker an' quick wid his thinkers, ma'm.
"Waal, how's the prospects fur the 'lection?" she asked. "Fine! Fine!" he answered with gusto. "Folks all be so frien'ly everywhar ter we-uns." He leaned his shoulder suddenly back against the rough rails of the fence. His hat was in his hand. His hair, fine, thin, chestnut-brown, and closely clinging about his narrow head, was thrown back from his forehead.
An' its a shame how dey do sling de licker 'bout 'lection times." "But don't the temperance people want the colored people to vote the temperance ticket?" "Yes, but some ob de culled people gits mighty skittish ef dey tries to git em to vote dare ticket 'lection time, an' keeps dem at a proper distance wen de 'lection's ober. Some ob dem say dere's a trick behine it, an' don't want to tech it.
He set out in July, and he rid right straight through to November, nigh onto every day of his life. He got white, an' thin, an' narvous, from loss of sleep an' lack of food, an' his pa got restless, said Henry was takin' the 'lection more serious 'an he ever took the war. Last few days before votin' was cold an' raw an' Henry rid constant.
Chump, herself removing the lamp to light him. Braintop sat in the chair of torture, and wrote flowingly, while his taskmistress looked over him, "Ladies of Brookfield." He read it out: "Ladies of Brookfield." "I'll be vary happy to represent ye at the forthcomin' 'lection," Mrs. Chump gave a continuation in his tone. "Why, won't that do, ma'am?" Braintop asked in wonderment.
She was all ready weddin'-dress an' bonnet an' everything an' this house was 'most done an' ready for them to move into; but one Sunday night Barney he went up to see Charlotte, an' he got into a dispute with her father about the 'lection, an' the old man he ordered Barney out of the house, an' Barney he went out, an' he never went in again couldn't nobody make him.
Wal, I b'lieve the guverment is right, and at the nixt 'lection I'll remember every word you've said. I allus thought they was the squarest fellars we've ever had yet them fellars that got out this ere policy." "The National Policy; Mr. Spriggins," ventured Marguerite, smilingly. "People may talk to the contrary but it has done much to improve matters.
The year arter the doctor was app'inted to preach the 'lection sermon in Boston, he made such a figger that the Brattle-street Church sent a committee right down to see if they couldn't get him to Boston; and then the Sherburne folks, they up and raised his salary; ye see, there ain't nothin' wakes folks up like somebody else's wantin' what you've got.
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