Gran'ma Ela says she hopes to see me snug and warm In the bosom of Mugwumpery, whose motto is reform; But Gran'ma Ela he has never known the filling joys Of bossing "boodle" candidates and training with the boys; Of posing as a gentleman although at heart a tough; Of being sometimes out of scalps while some are out of stuff-- Or else he'd know that bossing things are good enough for me, Except jest 'fore election I'm as good as I can be! When poor Rubens, wondering why I've left my gum-games drop, Inquires with rueful accent: "What's the matter with Hoppy Hop?" The Civic Federation comes from out its hiding-place And allows that Mayor Hopkins is chock-full of saving grace! And I appear so penitent and wear so long a phiz That some folks say: "Good gracious! how improved our mayor is!" But others tumble to my racket and suspicion me, When jest 'fore election I'm as good as I can be! For candidates who hope to get there on election day Must mind their p's and q's right sharp in all they do and say, So clean the streets, assess the boys for everything they're worth, Jine all the federations, and promise them the earth! Say "yes 'um" to the ladies, and "yes sur" to the men, And when reform is mentioned, roll your eyes and yell "Amen!" No matter what the past has been--jest watch me now and see How jest 'fore election I'm as good as I can be!_ I will conclude this exposition of the attitude of Eugene Field to politics, public affairs, and public men with a whimsical bit of his verse, descriptive of how business and politics are mixed in a country store, premising it with the note that Colonel Bunn has since become a national character: _A STATESMAN'S SORROW 'Twas in a Springfield grocery store, Not many years ago, That Colonel Bunn patrolled the floor, The paragon of woe. Though all the people of the town Were gathered there to buy, Good Colonel Bunn walked up and down With many a doleful sigh. He vented off a dismal groan, And grunt of sorry kind, And murmured in a hollow tone The thoughts that vexed his mind. "Alas! how pitiful," he said, "And oh! how wondrous vain, To run a party at whose head Stands such a man as Blaine. "'Tis here, with eager hearts and legs, Folks come to buy their teas-- Their coffee, sugar, butter, eggs, Molasses, flour, and cheese-- And every article I keep, As all good grocers do, They purchase here amazing cheap-- The very finest, too. "Yet when a canvass must be won, He, who presides it o'er, Is sadly qualified to run A country grocery store; His soul, once mesmerized by Blaine, Is very ill at ease When lowered to the humble plane Of butter, eggs, and teas!