A gentleman named Goldstein graduated out of the buttonhole-making line into practical politics. He gave his allegiance to the Republican party. That year the Republicans carried New York state. They also carried Mr. Goldstein’s election district which was an even more notable victory inasmuch as it was in a heavily Democratic section. At that time Chauncey Depew was U. S. Senator from New York; also head of the New York Central Railroad and likewise Republican state chairman. Bright and early on the morning after election day Mr. Goldstein was at the outer doors of Mr. Depew’s offices in the old Grand Central terminal building. He sent word in that Mr. Goldstein, the politicianer, desired to see the head of the line. Being admitted, he directed Mr. Depew’s attention to the result of the voting in his neighborhood and claimed credit for the showing. Mr. Depew agreed with him that he had done well and that his labors in behalf of the party entitled him to recognition and reward. He desired to know how he personally or the G.O.P. might serve his friend. At this Mr. Goldstein confessed to an ambition. He straightway desired, he said, to become a dispatcher for the railroad. Depew directed his caller’s attention to the fact that a dispatcher, among other essential qualifications, must have more or less knowledge of telegraphy. It then developed, that Mr. Goldstein thought a dispatcher was one of those functionaries in blue uniform who, through megaphones, called incoming and outgoing trains in the station. Behold, then, Mr. Goldstein on a night, one week later, arrayed, in blue and brass, proudly pacing the main waiting-room, a megaphone under his arm and conscious dignity, conscious power and conscious pomp in his manner. Presently his chance comes. He lifts his voice and this statement comes from him: “Say, efferbody, listen. It gifs me the outmost bleasure to announce that a lofely train, mit cushioned seats und a conductor und ef’rything pleasant—say, you’d like that train—is now aboud leafing on track Number Fife for Albany, Uticcer, Ro-chester, Syracuse, Buffaler und points on the Vest. Who would like to go in a nice train for some points on the Vest?” Plainly pained at the failure of the populace to leap forward and avail itself of this opportunity he is about to repeat the announcement when he feels a tug at his coat tail. He turns impatiently to find a person of lowly aspect, who is burdened with hand baggage. “Vell,” he demands, “vot is idt?” “When does the last train go to Cleveland?” inquires the stranger. Into Mr. Goldstein’s tones comes pity for such ignorance. “Ven, on the Noo Yawk Central, does the last train go for Cleveland?” he repeats as though he scarcely can believe his ears. “Mine friendt, you should live so long!” § 246 Darkness Before the Dawn