ring him.

"I've been a Blaine man ever since he was run the time Bob Ingersoll
nominated him," said the old man, who sighed as if relieved. "I was at
that convention and heard the speech--"

"Ah, that was a speech to hear," said a man behind, and two or three men
edged their heads nearer.

The old Republican straightened his bent shoulders, his winter-stung
features softened and warmed at the manifestation of interest, his voice
sank to the confidential undertone of the narrator.

"You're right, sir, right; it was a magnificent speech. I can see him
jest as he stood there, a stoutish, good-looking man, smooth-faced, his
eye straight ahead, and an alternate that sat next me--I was an
alternate; I've been an alternate four times; I could have been a
delegate, but I says, 'No, abler men than me are wanting it; I'm willing
to fight in the ranks.' But I wished I had a vote, a free vote that
day, I tell you. The alternate near me, he says, 'You'll hear something
fine now; I've heard him speak.'"

"You did, too, I guess."

"We could hear from the first minute. That kinder fixed our attention.
He had a mellow, rich kind of voice that melted into our ears. We found
ourselves listening and liking him from the first sentence. At first he
was as quiet as a summer breeze, but presently he began to warm up, and
the words flowed out like a stream of jewels. It was electrifying: it
was thrilling, sir; it took us off our feet before we knew it, and when
he came to the climax, those of us that weren't yelling in the aisles
were jumping up and down on our chairs! I know I found myself prancing
up and down on my own hat on a chair, swinging somebody else's hat and
screaming at the top of my voice, with the tears running down my cheeks.
God! sir, there were men there on their feet cheering their throats out
that had to vote against Blaine afterward--had to, because they were
there instructed--no more free will than a checked trunk!" The light
died out of his face. "Yes, sir, a great speech; never so great a
speech, whoever made it; but it did no good, he wasn't nominated, and
when we did nominate him we were cheated out of our victory. Well, we'll
do better this day."

"We will that," said the other man, heartily; "McKinley--"

"You'll excuse me"--the old man struck in with a deprecating air, yet
under the apology something fiercely eager and anxious that glued the
hearer's eyes to his quivering old face--"You'll excuse me. I--I a