The 13th District: A Story of a CandidateWhitlock, Brand
General
The 13th District: A Story of a Candidate
Whitlock, Brand
Didactic fiction; Elections -- Fiction; Political campaigns -- Fiction; Political fiction; Social problems -- Fiction
"Well, suh," the colonel began, speaking gravely and with much
consideration, as if he were indeed to deliver the judgment of his
party's convention. "Pehsonally, I'd like to see a Southe'n gentleman,
of cou'se. But that reminds me of an old friend of mine, who came down
to see me 'long in the spring of seventy-six to ask that same question,
suh. You all remembah that the' was a good deal of discussion goin' on
in ouah pahty that yeah about ouah p'ospective candidate. The friend to
whom I refeh was an old fellah who lived neah mah place, and he always
came ovah to see me whenevah I got home f'om Washington, in o'deh to
discuss the political issues of the day. I received him, and we sat
down on the po'ch, and aftah I'd called mah house niggah to make us
some juleps--I wish, suhs, we had those juleps heah to-day, though I do
not wish to dispa'age the liquah ouah landlo'd se'ves heah, not at all,
suhs." He inclined his head apologetically toward the bar. "I had known
this old man fo' a long pe'iod of tahm. He was a po' fahmah, but--he
rode in mah troop."
The colonel paused again, that the company might have time to
appreciate the paternal relation of officer and man who had ridden with
Morgan's Raiders, and then went on:
"I rehea'sed the names of seve'al of the distinguished gentlemen whose
names had been brought fo'wahd by theah friends fo' the high office.
The' was Tilden, and Seymoah, and Bayahd, and Thu'man, and othahs
you'll remembuh, but none of them seemed somehow to impress the ol'
fellah favo'ably. No, suh, none of the names seemed to impress the
ol' fellah favo'ably, till at las', I added: 'And then, theah's some
mention of Davis,' meaning the distinguished ju'ist of yoah state,
suh," the colonel explained, bowing to Garwood, who, as if expressly
deputed thereto by the governor of Illinois, bowed the acknowledgment
that seemed to be due the honor thus conferred upon that commonwealth.
"At the magic name of Davis, the po' ol' man's eyes lit up with
Promethean fiah," the colonel continued, his own little eyes sparkling,
"and, leaning fo'wahd, trembling like an aspen leaf, with the delight
he was almost afraid to indulge, he looked cahfully all about him,
and took his long seegah from his lips, and then he whispehed: 'But,
Colonel, ain't yo' all afeahed it's a _leetle_ airly?'
"And so, suhs," the colonel resumed, having bent his purple face to sip
his julep and to give his companions opportunity to pay his story the
tribute of the laugh he demanded, "I feah in this instance, suhs, it's
a _leetle airly_ fo' a Southron.
"But, se'iously, suhs," the colonel went on, after a proper pause,
"I'm goin' back to Kentucky the end of this month. I'll go ovah to
Frankfo't, and I'll go to the Capitol Hotel, and theah I'll meet the
friends of mah own state, and aftah that, I'll have some idea of whom I
shall suppoht when we all get up to Chicago."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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