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We ain't colts." "Thet's what you think Bimeby you git into a tight corner, 'Lection day er Valley Fair, like's not, daown-taown, when you're all het an' lathery, an' pestered with flies, an' thirsty, an' sick o' bein' worked in an aout 'tween buggies.
Not a man stirred; not a man answered. "That's your sort, is it?" he added, returning his pipe to his mouth. "Well, you're a gay lot to look at, any way. Not worth much to fight, you ain't. P'r'aps you can understand King George's English. I'm cap'n here by 'lection. I'm cap'n here because I'm the best man by a long sea-mile.
They was to hold the nose-bag; an' as votes is dropped in, they's to count 'em out accordin' to Hoyle, so we-alls can tell where the play's headin'. Bronco Charlie is jedge for Randall, an' Ormsby fronts up all sim'lar for Old Monroe. The 'lection we-alls decides to hold in the Lone Star Saloon, so's to be conducted with comfort.
And politics are dangerous to enter into. There is bad folks in Jonesville 'lection day, bad men, and bad women. And I am liable to be led astray. I don't want to be led astray, but I feel that I am liable to. I have to hear swearin'. Now, I don't swear myself. Twice I thought of 'em right in prayer-meetin' time, and it worrys me. I have to see drinkin' goin' on.
Not a man stirred; not a man answered. "That's your sort, is it?" he added, returning his pipe to his mouth. "Well, you're a gay lot to look at, anyway. Not much worth to fight, you ain't. P'r'aps you can understand King George's English. I'm cap'n here by 'lection. I'm cap'n here because I'm the best man by a long sea-mile.
In other localities, notably on the Massachusetts coast, in Connecticut, and in Narragansett, the term "Nigger 'Lection" was applied to the election of a black governor, who held his sway over the black population.
Didn't he come into my kitchen the noight the new Prisident was nominated and shtand afore the fire, lookin' loike a pictur', wid his hands in his shmall pockets, an' his innocent bit of a face as sayrious as a jedge? An' sez he to me: 'Mary, sez he, 'I'm very much int'rusted in the 'lection, sez he. 'I'm a 'publican, an' so is Dearest.
"Ah, phooh!" he said, indicating the end of his speech by dropping the stump of his cigarette into the sand on the floor and softly spitting upon it, "le Shylock de la rue Carondelet!" and then in English, not to lose the admiration of the Irish waiter: "He don't want to haugment me! I din hass 'im, because the 'lection. But you juz wait till dat firce of Jannawerry!"
"Shoo!" said the man beside him. "He don't mean no harm. He's jest as nervous as a two-year filly, and he's got to take it out on some one! Next 'lection of officers he'll be down and out. Sho! how them things do screech!" The meadow closed with a wooded hill. The grey lines, reaching shelter, gasped with relief. The way was steep, however, and the shells still rained.
'Not half so strange as a miraculous circumstance as happened to my own father, at an election time, in this wery place, Sir, replied Sam. 'What was that? inquired Mr. Pickwick. 'Why, he drove a coach down here once, said Sam; ''lection time came on, and he was engaged by vun party to bring down woters from London.