The Honorable Peter Stirling and What People Thought of Him by Paul Leicester Ford

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Immediately after the morning adjournment, Green came up to Peter.

"We've had a count, and can't carry Catlin. So we shan't even put him
up. What do you think of Milton?"

"I don't know him personally, but he has a very good record, I believe."

"He isn't what we want, but that's not the question. We must take what
we can get."

"I suppose you think Porter has a chance."

"Not if we take Milton."

"Between the two I have no choice."

An hour later, the convention was called to order by the chairman. A few
moments sufficed to complete the unfinished business, and then the
chairman's gavel fell, and every one knew without his announcement that
the crucial moment had been reached.

Much to Peter's surprise, Kennedy was one of the members who was
instantly on his feet, and was the one selected for recognition by the
chairman. He was still more surprised when Kennedy launched at once into
a glowing eulogium of Porter. Peter was sitting next Kennedy, and though
he sat quietly, a sad look came into the face usually so expressionless.
He felt wronged. He felt that he had been an instrument in the deceiving
of others. Most of all he grieved to think that a delegate of his ward,
largely through his own interference, was acting discreditably. Peter
wanted others to do right, and he felt that that was not what Kennedy
was doing.

The moment Kennedy finished, Peter rose, as did Maguire. The convention
was cheering for Porter, and it took some time to quiet it to a
condition when it was worth while recognizing any one. During this time
the chairman leaned forward and talked with Green, who sat right below
him, for a moment. Green in turn spoke to Costell, and a little slip of
paper was presently handed up to the chairman, who from that moment
became absolutely oblivious of the fact that Maguire was on his feet.
When silence finally came, in spite of Maguire's, "Mr. Chairman," that
individual said, "Mr. Stirling."

Peter began in a low voice, "In rising, Mr. Chairman, to second the
nomination of Mr. Porter, I feel that it would be idle in me to praise
one so well known to all of us, even if he had not just been the subject
of so appreciative a speech from my colleague--"

Here cries of "louder" interrupted Peter, during which interruption
Green said to Costell, "We've been tricked."

"I'm not so sure," replied Costell, "Maguire's on his feet yet, and
doesn't look happy. Something's happening which has not been slated."

When Peter resumed, there were no more cries of "louder." His
introduction had been a matter of trouble and doubt to him, for he liked
Porter, and feared he might not show it. But now he merely had something
to tell his audience, and that was easy work. So, his voice ringing very
clear and distinct, he told them of the original election of the
delegates; of the feeling of his ward; of the attempts to obtain a city
nomination of Porter; of Maguire's promise. "Gad, he hits from the
shoulder," said Green. As soon as the trend of his remarks was realized,
Porter's supporters began to hiss and hoot. Peter at once stopped, but
the moment silence came he began again, and after a repetition of this a
few times, they saw they could neither embarrass nor anger him, so they
let him have his say. He brought his speech to an end by saying:

"I have already expressed my admiration of Mr. Porter, and as soon as I
had made up my mind to vote for him, I made no secret of that
intention. But he should not have been nominated by a city delegate, for
he is not the choice of New York City, and any attempt to show that he
is, or that he has any true backing there, is only an attempt to
deceive. In seconding his nomination therefore, I wish it to be
distinctly understood that both his nomination and seconding are
personal acts, and in no sense the act of the delegates of the city of
New York."

There was a mingling of hoots and cheers as Peter sat down, though
neither was very strong. In truth, the larger part of the delegates were
very much in the dark as to the tendency of Peter's speech. "Was it
friendly or unfriendly to Porter?" they wondered.

"Mr. Maguire," said the chairman.

"Mr. Chairman, the gentleman who has just sat down is to be complimented
on his speech. In my whole life I have never heard so deceptive and
blinding a narration. We know of Brutus stabbing his friend. But what
shall we say of a pretended Brutus who caresses while he stabs?"

Here the Porter adherents became absolutely sure of the character of
Peter's speech, and hissed.

"Nor is it Imperial Caesar alone," continued Maguire, "against whom he
turns his poniard. Not content with one foul murder, he turns against
Caesar's friends. By devilish innuendo, he charges the honorable Mr.
Kennedy and myself with bargaining to deceive the American people. I
call on him for proof or retraction."

The convention laughed. Peter rose and said: "Mr. Chairman, I gave a
truthful account of what actually took place last evening in the United
States hotel. I made no charges."

"But you left the impression that Mr. Kennedy and I had made a deal,"
shrieked Maguire.

"If the gentleman draws that conclusion from what passed, it is not my
fault."

The convention laughed. "Do you mean to charge such a bargain?" angrily
shouted Maguire.

"Will you deny it?" asked Peter calmly.

"Then you do charge it?"

Here the convention laughed for the third time. Green shouted "deny it,"
and the cry was taken up by many of the delegates.

"Yes," screamed Maguire. "I do deny it"

Peter turned to Kennedy. "Do you too, deny it?"

"Yes," shouted Kennedy, loudly.

Again the convention laughed.

"Then," said Peter, "if I had charged you with a bargain, I should now
find it necessary to apologize."

The convention roared. Maguire screamed something, but it could not be
heard. The tenor of his remarks was indicated by his red face and
clinched fist.

Costell smiled his deep smile. "I'm very glad," he said to the man next
him, "that we didn't pick Stirling up."

Then Milton was nominated and seconded, as were also Catlin, and four
minor stars. That done, a ballot was taken and the vote stood:

Porter 206
Milton 197
Catlin 52
Scattering 29

A second ballot showed:

Porter 206
Milton 202
Catlin 54
Scattering 22

A third ballot gave:

Porter 206
Milton 210
Catlin 52
Scattering 16

"Porter's done for on the next," was whispered round the hall, though
where it started, no one knew. Evidently his adherents thought so, for
one made a motion to adjourn. It was voted down, and once more the roll
call started.

"I shall vote for Milton," Peter told Schlurger, and the changes in the
delegations as the call proceeded, proved that many changes were being
made the same way. Yet the fourth ballot showed:

Porter 125
Milton 128
Catlin 208
Scattering 14

The wildest excitement broke out in the Porter delegates. "They've
beaten us," screamed Kennedy, as much to himself as to those about.
"They've used Milton to break our ranks, meaning Catlin all the time."
So in truth, it was. Milton had been put up to draw off Porter's
delegates, but the moment they had begun to turn to Milton, enough New
York City delegates had been transferred to Catlin to prevent Milton
being chosen. Amid protests and angry words on all sides another ballot
was taken:

Catlin 256
Porter 118
Milton 110

Before the result was announced. Green was at Peter's elbow.

"Will you move to make it unanimous?" he asked.

"Yes." And Peter made the formal motion, which was carried by
acclamation. Half an hour served to choose the Lieutenant-Governor and
the rest of the ticket, for the bulk of it had already been slated. The
platform was adopted, and the convention dissolved.

"Well," said Kennedy angrily to Peter, "I guess you've messed it this
time. A man can't please both sides, but he needn't get cussed by both."

Peter went out and walked to his hotel. "I'm afraid I did mess it," he
thought, "yet I don't see what else I could have done."

CHAPTER XXIV.

MISUNDERSTANDINGS AND UNDERSTANDINGS.

"Did you understand what it all meant, Cousin Anneke?" asked Dorothy, as
they were coming downstairs.

"No. The man who got so angry seemed to think Mr. Stirling had--"

She stopped short. A group of men on the sidewalk were talking, and she
paused to hear one say:

"To see that young chap Stirling handling Maguire was an eye-opener."

Another man laughed, rather a deep, quiet laugh. "Maguire understands
everything but honesty," he said. "You can always beat him with that."

Miss De Voe would have like to stay and listen, but there were too many
men. So the ladies entered the carriage.

"At least we know that he said he was trying to tell the truth," she
went on, "and you just heard what that man said. I don't know why they
all laughed."

"He didn't seem to mind a bit."

"No. Hasn't he a funny half-embarrassed, half-cool manner?"

"He wasn't embarrassed after he was fairly speaking. You know he was
really fine-looking, when he spoke."

"Yes," said Dorothy. "You said he had a dull, heavy face."

"That was the first time I saw him, Dorothy. It's a face which varies
very much. Oliver, drive to the United States. We will take him home to
dinner."

"Oh, good," cried the youngest. "Then he will tell us why they laughed."

As they drove up to the hotel, Peter had just reached the steps. He
turned to the carriage, the moment he saw that they wanted him.

"We wish to carry you off to a simple country dinner," Miss De Voe told
him.

"I am going to take the special to New York, and that leaves in half an
hour."

"Take a later train."

"My ticket wouldn't be good on it."

Most men Miss De Voe would have snubbed on the spot, but to Peter she
said: "Then get another ticket."

"I don't care to do that," said Peter.

"Oh, please, Mr. Stirling," said Minna. "I want to ask you a lot of
questions about the convention."

"Hush, Minna," said Miss De Voe. She was nettled that Peter should
refuse, and that her niece could stoop to beg of "a criminal lawyer and
ward politician," as she put it mentally. But she was determined not to
show it "We are sorry. Good-evening. Home, Oliver."

So they did not learn from Peter why the convention laughed. The subject
was brought up at dinner, and Dorothy asked the opinion of the voters of
the family.

"Probably he had made a fluke of some kind," one said.

"More probably he had out-sharped the other side," suggested a second.

"It will be in the papers to-morrow," said the first suggestor.

The three women looked in the next day's papers, but the reporters were
as much at sea in regard to the Stirling-sixth-ward incident, as had
been the rank-and-file in the convention. Three took their views from
Maguire, and called it "shameful treason," and the like. Two called it
"unprincipled and contradictory conduct." One alone said that "Mr.
Stirling seemed to be acting conscientiously, if erratically." Just what
effect it had had on the candidates none of the papers agreed in. One
said it had killed Porter. Another, that "it was a purely personal
matter without influence on the main question." The other papers shaded
between these, though two called it "a laughable incident." The
opposition press naturally saw in it an entire discrediting of both
factions of the Democratic party, and absolute proof that the nominee
finally selected was unfit for office.

Unable to sift out the truth, the ladies again appealed to the voters of
the family.

"Oh," said one, "Stirling did something tricky and was caught in it."

"I don't believe that," said Miss De Voe.

"Nor I," said Dorothy.

"Well, if you want to make your political heeler an angel, I have no
objection," laughed the enfranchised being.

"I don't think a man who made that speech about the children can be a
scoundrel," said Dorothy.

"I don't either," said Minna.

"That's the way you women reason," responded he of the masculine
intellect. "Because a man looks out for some sick kittens, ergo, he is a
political saint. If you must take up with politicians, do take
Republicans, for then, at least, you have a small percentage of chance
in your favor that they are gentlemen."

"Don't be a Pharisee, Lispenard," said Miss De Voe, utilizing Peter's
rebuke.

"Then don't trouble me with political questions. Politics are so vulgar
in this country that no gentleman keeps up with them."

Miss De Voe and the two girls dropped the "vulgar" subject, but Miss De
Voe said later:

"I should like to know what they laughed at?"

"Do ask him--if he comes to call on you, this winter, Cousin Anneke."

"No. I asked him once and he did not come." Miss De Voe paused a moment.
"I shall not ask him again," she added.

"I don't think he intends to be rude," said Dorothy.

"No," responded Miss De Voe. "I don't think he knows what he is doing.
He is absolutely without our standards, and it is just as well for both
that he shouldn't call." Woman-like, Miss De Voe forgot that she had
said Peter was a gentleman.

If Peter had found himself a marked man in the trip up, he was doubly so
on the return train. He sat most of the time by himself, pondering on
what had happened, but he could not be unconscious of the number of
people to whom he was pointed out. He was conscious too, that his course
had not been understood, and that many of those who looked at him with
interest, did so without approbation. He was not buoyed up either, by a
sense that he had succeeded in doing the best. He had certainly hurt
Porter, and had made enemies of Maguire and Kennedy. Except for the fact
that he had tried to do right, he could see no compensating balance.

Naturally the newspapers the next morning did not cheer him, though
perhaps he cared less for what they said than he ought. He sent them,
good, bad, and indifferent, to his mother, writing her at the same time
a long letter, telling her how and why he had taken this course. He
wrote also a long letter to Porter, explaining his conduct. Porter had
already been told that Peter was largely responsible for his defeat, but
after reading Peter's letter, he wrote him a very kind reply, thanking
him for his support and for his letter. "It is not always easy to do
what one wants in politics," he wrote, "but if one tries with high
motives, for high things, even defeat loses its bitterness. I shall not
be able to help you, in your wished-for reforms as greatly as I hoped,
but I am not quite a nonentity in politics even now, and if at any time
you think my aid worth the asking, do not hesitate to call on me for
it. I shall always be glad to see you at my house for a meal or a night,
whether you come on political matters or merely for a chat."

Peter found his constituents torn with dissensions over his and
Kennedy's course in the convention. He did not answer in kind the blame
and criticism industriously sowed by Kennedy; but he dropped into a
half-a-dozen saloons in the next few days, and told "the b'ys" a pretty
full history of the "behind-the-scenes" part.

"I'm afraid I made mistakes," he frankly acknowledged, "yet even now I
don't see how I could have done differently. I certainly thought I was
doing right."

"An' so yez were," shouted Dennis. "An' if that dirty beast Kennedy
shows his dirty face inside these doors, it's a washin' it will get wid
the drainin' av the beer-glasses. We wants none av his dirty bargains
here."

"I don't know that he had made any bargain," said Peter.

"But we do," shouted one of the men. "It's a bargain he's always
makin'."

"Yes," said Dennis. "It's Kennedy looks out for himself, an' we'll let
him do it next time all by himself." It could not be traced to its
origin, but in less than a week the consensus of opinion in the ward was
that: "Kennedy voted for himself, but Stirling for us."

The ward, too, was rather proud of the celebrity it had achieved. The
papers had not merely paragraphed Peter, and the peculiar position of
the "district" in the convention, but they had begun now asking
questions as to how the ward would behave. "Would it support Catlin?"
"Was it true that the ward machine had split, and intended to nominate
rival tickets?" "Had one faction made a deal with the Republicans?"

"Begobs," said Dennis, "it's the leaders an' the papers are just afther
discoverin' there is a sixth ward, an' it's Misther Stirling's made them
do it."

The chief party leaders had stayed over at Saratoga, but Peter had a
call from Costell before the week was out.

"The papers gave it to you rather rough," Costell said kindly, "but they
didn't understand it. We thought you behaved very square."

"They tell me I did Porter harm."

"No. It was Maguire did the harm. You simply told about it. Of course
you get the blame."

"My constituents stand by me."

"How do they like Catlin?"

"I think they are entirely satisfied. I'm afraid they never cared much
who got it."

"I'm told Kennedy is growling, and running amuck?"

"He's down on Catlin and me."

"Well, if you think best, we'll placate him? But Gallagher seemed to
think he couldn't do much?"

"I don't think he has much of a following. Even Moriarty, who was his
strong card, has gone back on him."

"Will you make a couple of speeches for us in this ward?"

"If you'll let me say what I want?"

"You can support us?"

"Yes."

"Then we'll leave it to you. Only beware of making too many statements.
You'll get dates and places from the committee as soon as they are
settled. We pay twenty-five dollars a night. If you hit the right key,
we may want you in some of the other wards, too."

"I shall be glad to talk. It's what I've been doing to small crowds in
the saloons."

"So I'm told. You'll never get a better place. Men listen there, as they
never will at a mass-meeting." Costell rose. "If you are free next
Sunday, come up into Westchester and take a two o'clock dinner with me.
We won't talk politics, but you shall see a nice little woman, who's
good enough to make my life happier, and after we've looked over my
stables, I'll bring you back to the city behind a gray mare that will
pass about anything there is on the road."

So Peter had a half day in the country and enjoyed it very much. He
looked over Mrs. Costell's flower-garden, in which she spent almost her
whole time, and chatted with her about it. He saw the beautiful stables,
and their still more beautiful occupants. He liked the couple very much.
Both were simple and silent people, of little culture, but it seemed to
Peter that the atmosphere had a gentle, homely tone that was very
pleasing. As he got into the light buggy, he said to Mrs. Costell:

"I'll get the seed of that mottled gillyflower from my mother as soon as
possible. Perhaps you'll let me bring it up myself?"

"Do," she said. "Come again, whether you get the seed or not."

After they had started, Mr. Costell said: "I'm glad you asked that. Mrs.
Costell doesn't take kindly to many of the men who are in politics with
me, but she liked you, I could see."

Peter spoke twice in the next week in small halls in his ward. He had
good audiences, and he spoke well, if simply.

"There ain't no fireworks in his stuff," said the ward satirist. "He
don't unfurl the American flag, nor talk about liberty and the
constitution. He don't even speak of us as noble freemen. He talks just
as if he thought we was in a saloon. A feller that made that speech
about the babies ought to treat us to something moving."

That was what many of the ward thought. Still they went because they
wanted to see if he wouldn't burst out suddenly. They felt that Peter
had unlimited potentialities in the way of eloquence (for eloquence to
them meant the ability to move the emotions) and merely saved his
powers. Without quite knowing it they found what he had to say
interesting. He brought the questions at issue straight back to
elementary forms. He showed just how each paragraph in the platform
would directly affect, not the state, but the "district."

"He's thoroughly good," the party leaders were told. "If he would abuse
the other side a little more, and stick in a little tinsel and calcium
light he would be great."

So he was called upon to speak elsewhere in the city. He worked at one
of the polls on election day, and was pleased to find that he was able
to prevent a little of the "trading" for which Kennedy had arranged. His
ward went Democratic, as was a foregone conclusion, but by an unusually
large majority, and Peter found that he and Dennis were given the credit
for it, both in the ward, and at headquarters. Catlin was elected, and
the Assembly had been won. So Peter felt that his three months' work had
not been an entire failure. The proceeds of his speeches had added also
two hundred and fifty dollars to his savings bank account, and one
hundred more to the account of "Peter Stirling, Trustee."

CHAPTER XXV.

VARIOUS KINDS OF SOCIETY.

Peter spent Christmas with his mother, and found her very much worried
over his "salooning."

"It's first steps, Peter, that do the mischief," she told him.

"But, mother, I only go to talk with the men. Not to drink."

"You'll come to that later. The devil's paths always start straight, my
boy, but they end in wickedness. Promise me you won't go any more."

"I can't do that, mother. I am trying to help the men, and you ought not
ask me to stop doing what may aid others."

"Oh, my boy, my boy!" sobbed the mother.

"If you could only understand it, mother, as I have come to, you
wouldn't mind. Here, the saloon is chiefly a loafing place for the lazy
and shiftless, but in New York, it's very different. It's the poor man's
club. If you could see the dark, cold, foul-aired tenements where they
live, and then the bright, warm, cheerful saloons, that are open to all,
you would see that it isn't the drink that draws the men. I even wish
the women could come. The bulk of the men are temperate, and only take a
glass or two of beer or whisky, to pay for their welcome. They really go
for the social part, and sit and talk, or read the papers. Of course a
man gets drunk, sometimes, but usually it is not a regular customer, and
even such cases would be fewer, it we didn't tax whisky so outrageously
that the dishonest barkeepers are tempted to doctor their whisky with
drugs which drive men frantic if they drink. But most of the men are too
sensible, and too poor, to drink so as really to harm themselves."

"Peter, Peter! To think that three years in New York should bring you to
talk so! I knew New York was a sink-hole of iniquity, but I thought you
were too good a boy to be misled."

"Mother, New York has less evil in it than most places. Here, after the
mills shut down, there's no recreation for the men, and so they amuse
themselves with viciousness. But in a great place like New York, there
are a thousand amusements specially planned for the evening hours.
Exhibitions, theatres, concerts, libraries, lectures--everything to
tempt one away from wrong-doing to fine things. And there wickedness is
kept out of sight as it never is here. In New York you must go to it,
but in these small places it hunts one out and tempts one."

"Oh, Peter! Here, where there's room in church of a Sabbath for all the
folks, while they say that in New York there isn't enough seats in
churches for mor'n a quarter of the people. A missionary was saying only
last week that we ought to help raise money to build churches in New
York. Just think of there being mor'n ten saloons for every church! And
that my son should speak for them and spend nights in them!"

"I'm sorry it troubles you so. If I felt I had any right to stop, I'd do
it."

"You haven't drunk in them yet, Peter?"

"No."

"And you'll promise to write me if you do."

"I'll promise you I won't drink in them, mother."

"Thank you, Peter." Still his mother was terrified at the mere thought,
and at her request, her clergyman spoke also to Peter. He was easier to
deal with, and after a chat with Peter, he told Mrs. Stirling:

"I think he is doing no harm, and may do much good. Let him do what he
thinks best."

"It's dreadful though, to have your son's first refusal be about going
to saloons," sighed the mother.

"From the way he spoke I think his refusal was as hard to him as to you.
He's a good boy, and you had better let him judge of what's right."

On Peter's return to the city, he found an invitation from Mrs. Bohlmann
to come to a holiday festivity of which the Germans are so fond. He was
too late to go, but he called promptly, to explain why he had not
responded. He was very much surprised, on getting out his dress-suit,
now donned for the first time in three years, to find how badly it
fitted him.

"Mother is right," he had to acknowledge. "I have grown much thinner."

However, the ill-fit did not spoil his evening. He was taken into the
family room, and passed a very pleasant hour with the jolly brewer, his
friendly wife, and the two "nice girls." They were all delighted with
Catlin's election, and Peter had to tell them about his part in it. They
did not let him go when he rose, but took him into the dining-room,
where a supper was served at ten. In leaving a box of candy, saved for
him from the Christmas tree, was given him.

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