from telling the audience that his own check for twenty thousand dollars had been drawn that day, and the money distributed in every town in the senatorial district for the purpose of purchasing votes. Had the information been given, the knowledge might have increased his vote among that class of men whose patriotic motives at the polls are governed by money. The Senator spoke for two hours, and, the meeting closing, the people of Cleverdale were left in a halo of political enthusiasm. Election day opened pleasantly. Cyrus Hart Miller had thoroughly organized his forces, his chief staff officer being the powerful Paddy Sullivan. Next to his own Bridget and the children, Senator Hamblin occupied the chief seat in Paddy's affections, for the "Boss" being a generous paymaster Paddy adored him. The opening hours of election day were quiet. During the morning the honest voters cast their ballots, the marketable article appearing later in the day. As Miller entered one of the polling-places and met Farmer Johnson, he extended his hand and said: "Mr. Johnson, how are you to-day?" "Mighty well, Miller; how's things agoin' here?" "Oh, Hamblin will be elected by a good big majority." "Don't be sartin on it. I tell you what it is, them Daley fellers is a-workin' like blazes into the hands of t'other party." "That's nothing new, for Daley has been working that way all the time, being paid to bolt and come up a stump candidate. He is a bad man, Mr. Johnson." "Don't know so much about that air; but see here, Miller--let me speak to you privately--he offered to pay my team hire if I'd come down and vote for him." "But a farmer worth his forty thousand dollars wouldn't sell his vote!" "Sell my vote! See here, Miller, let's go into this room. There: I can speak to you by ourselves, now. Do you mean to insinuate I'd sell my vote--me, a farmer who can buy the best farm in this 'ere county? No, sir, you've got the wrong man." "Why, Mr. Johnson, of course you wouldn't." "No, I jest wouldn't. But you see this is a good workin' day, and me and my two boys dropped everything to come down to vote. Daley offered to pay for my team if we'd go for him. I don't like him half so well as I do Hamblin; but--er--it kinder seems as if you'd oughter stand the price of our three days' work and team-hire if we vote your ticket." "What do you call it worth? Are the boys here?" "Yes, they'll be here in a few minutes; and if you'll give me five dollars--that is, two for the team and a dollar apiece for our three days' work--we'll vote for Hamblin." "It's a pretty good price, but I suppose I will have to do it." "But 'tain't sellin' our votes. I'd scorn doing such a mean trick as that. It's only gettin' pay for lost time." "Exactly so, Mr. Johnson; I wouldn't dare offer to buy your votes for fear of offending you. There are your boys--call them." The good old farmer, whose fine sense of honor would not permit him to sell his vote, said: