uld not bring themselves to a decision. The Democratic
paper, the _Call_, was too feeble to be anything distinctive at this
stage of its career Chard Foster had not yet assumed control of it. It
lent a half-hearted support to the Independent movement, and justified
its action on the ground that it was really a Democratic movement
leading toward reform, and it assumed to be the only paper advocating
reform. The other paper, unequivocally Republican, supported the
regular ticket with that single-heartedness of enmity, born of bribery,
or that ignorance which shuts out any admission that the other side has
a case.

The Oak Grove schoolhouse was the real storm-centre of the election,
and there was a great crowd there all day. It was a cold, raw day. The
men and boys all came in their overcoats and stood about on the leeward
side of the schoolhouse--where a pale sunlight fell--and scuffled, and
told stories, and bet cookies and apples on the election.

Some of the boys made up fires out in the woods near by, to which they
ran whooping whenever the cold became intolerable. They crouched around
the flames with a weird return of ancestral barbarism and laughed when
the smoke puffed out into their faces. They made occasional forages in
company with boys who lived near, after eggs, and apples, and popcorn,
which they placed before the fire and ate spiced with ashes.

Horsemen galloped up at intervals, bringing encouraging news of other
voting places. Teams clattered up filled with roughly-dressed farmers,
who greeted the other voters with loud and hearty shouts. They tumbled
out of the wagons, voted riotously, and then clattered back into the
corn-fields to their work, with wild hurrahs for the granger ticket.

The schoolhouse itself roared with laughter and excited talk, and the
big stove in the centre devoured its huge chunks of wood, making the
heat oppressive near it. No presidential election had ever brought out
such throngs of voters, or produced such interested discussion.

Bradley had been made clerk. His capital handwriting and knowledge of
book-keeping made him a valuable man for that work. He sat behind his
desk with the books before him, and impassively performed his duties,
but it was his first public appointment, and he was really deeply
gratified. He felt paid for all his year's hard study.

About two o'clock, when the voters were thickest at the polls, a man
galloped up with an excited air, and reining in his