It nominated George Helm for Circuit Judge. There were two parties in that district--as there are everywhere else--the Republican and the Democratic. There was also--as wherever else there is any public thing to steal--a third party that owned and controlled the other two. Sometimes this third party “fixes” the race so that Republican always wins and Democrat always loses; again, it “fixes” the race the other way; yet again--where there is what is known as an “intelligent and alert electorate”--this shrewd third party alternately puppets Republican and Democrat first under the wire--and then how the aforesaid intelligent and alert people do shout and applaud their own sagacity and independence! They say that woman is lacking in the sense of humor. There must be something in the charge. Otherwise, would she not long ago have laughed herself to death at the political antics of man? In Harrison and its surrounding country the sentiment was overwhelmingly Republican--which meant that the majority of the “independent” farmers and artisans who were working early and late to enrich the Railway Trust, the Harvester Trust, the Beef Trust, the Money Trust, and the rest of the members of the third and only real party, said, when they sat doddering about politics, “Wall, I reckon I’ll keep on voting as I shot.” If the community had been Democratic, the dodder would have been, “I think it’s about time to turn the rascals out.” Needless to say, the third party cares not a rap which side wins. The vote goes into the ballot box Republican or Democratic; it is counted for the third party. In Harrison the Republican candidates of the third party always won, and its Democratic candidates were put up simply to make things interesting for the populace and to give them the feeling that they were sovereign citizens. The Republican candidate for Circuit Judge, the candidate slated to win in a walk, was Judge Powers. He had served two terms, to the entire content of the third party--and, being full of pious talk and solemn flapdoodle about the “sacredness of the judicial trust in a community of freemen,” to the entire content of the people. In a hilarious mood the Democratic machine, casting about for its sacrifice candidate, nominated George Helm--or, rather, George Helm’s whiskers. It was a side-splitting joke. Everybody liked George. Everybody knew about his whiskers--knew him by his whiskers. It bade fair to inject that humor, so dearly beloved of the American people, into what was usually a dull campaign. The only trouble was that for the first time Helm failed to see a joke.