The two senators belonged to the democratic party, it being a rare case for a Whig ever to associate with a Democrat, and vice versâ; the member of the House belonged to the same class of politicians.
“What sort of speech was it Mr. *** made to-day?” demanded one of the senators of the member.
“Clever enough, I believe; but nobody listened to it. Mr. *** speaks too much.”
“And on all occasions, probably?”
“Precisely so.”
“Then I do not wonder no one likes to hear him: it is the worst possible taste to be always up. A man has to be very careful with that. The older members do not like the younger ones to speak more on a question than is absolutely necessary. This privilege is entirely reserved for the veterans. A young man of talent must be cautious how he shows off; or they will make a dead set at him, and hunt him down. The best practice is to speak seldom, and only on great occasions.”
“But you know,” observed the member, “a man must give some signs of life, or he will not be re-elected. Most of our speeches are manufactured for home-consumption. We ‘let fly’ at them in the House, then print it, and then send a couple of thousand copies of it to our constituents. Uncle Sam, you know, pays the postage.”[23]
“None of us has a right to complain about that,” replied the senator: “speeches are made on both sides; each party possessing the same right, and making the same use of the privilege of franking.”
“But then our party does not make near as long speeches as the Tories: it is only the higher classes of society will read a discourse filling more than seventeen columns in a newspaper.”
“But how do they get people to listen to them?” demanded I.