name, and was
unable to count above ten.

These charges printed in the opposition paper offered me my only chance
for election. I went to all my meetings with a big slate. I asked my
audience to call out numbers. I wrote down the figures and then did sums
in arithmetic to prove that I could count. I would ask if there was a
school-teacher in the audience (there was always one there). He would
rise, and I would ask him to verify my calculations. I would also have
him ask me to spell words. He would give me such words as "combustion,"
"garbage disposal," "bonded indebtedness" and so on. I would spell the
words and write them on the slate. He would then ask me questions in
history, geography and political economy. Then the school-teacher would
turn to the crowd and say:

"Friends, I came to this meeting because I had read that Mr. Davis is an
ignorant foreigner unfitted for the duties of city clerk. I find to
my surprise that he is well informed. I am glad we came here and
investigated, for we can all rest assured that if he is elected to the
office, he is entirely capable of filling it."

I handled the money and kept the books for the union, and this work in
addition to my campaign efforts wore me down at last. Two nights before
the election I decided that I had small chance of winning. I was on the
Republican ticket, and the Republicans had been in office four years
and their administration had proved unfortunate. There had been rich
pickings for contractors in that new and overgrown city, and the people
blamed the Republicans and were determined on a change.

I was passing the office of the opposition editor late at night after
canvassing for votes all day. I thought of the nasty slurs he had
written about me and my whole ancestry. I had fought hard to educate
myself and had been helpful to others. My self-respect revolted under
this editor's malicious goading. I happened to see him in his front
office, and on a sudden impulse, I went in, took hold of his collar, and
gave him a good licking.

The next day he bawled me out worse than ever. He said I was not only
a wild Welshman and a blockhead, but what is more deadly still, I was a
gorilla and an assassin.

And the next day I was elected.

CHAPTER XXXIX. PUTTING JAZZ INTO THE CAMPAIGN

I will go back and relate more details of my race for office. Having won
the nomination, I thrilled with pleasure and excitement, but I was at
a loss as to how to begin my