George said he didn't know—he thought he was a Democrat. Then on second thought he said he was a Democrat.
But things were in such shape at that time that the slightest suspicion of doubt in a candidate's mind as to whether he was a Democrat or Republican spoiled his chances for the Presidency.
Well, I guess!
Why, a fellow out for the Presidency in those times would wear a great big feather plume stuck in his hat and you could hardly see the plume for the prominent words, "I Am a Democrat," displayed on it.
He might buy a new hat, but the same plume would be stuck in it. And vice versa some other chap seeking the Presidency—while he couldn't wear a plume in his hat saying "I Am a Republican" (the fellow with the plume had that device copyrighted), he would have something else just as effective—a newspaper, or a tariff bill, or a sombrero, or something with which he would proclaim from shore to shore, "I Am a Republican."
While it was tweedle-dee and tweedle-dum which you were, a term of years of that blatant, persistent advertising declaration was necessary to cop out the Presidency.
George had been so busy discovering new lands that he wasn't hep to this, so when we shot that question at him, he said he didn't know. He knew he was a patriot, and all coons looked alike to George, so that was what he said.
Shucks! With that answer George didn't have any more show for the Presidency than a rabbit.
While we couldn't give him the Presidency, we gave him the most popular outburst of a country's gratitude—the most hilarious, spontaneous, delirious paean of praise ever awarded any discoverer of new lands—Christopher Columbus was a piker.
We bought George a house—he shook the sea, married a wife and settled down and lived happily ever after.