“I’ll tell you one thing: any man who marries a good school-marm takes his life in his hands—his political life, anyway!” and he pushed his fork into the ground as though he was spearing a Democrat! “And yet,” he added, as he threw out a fine hill of potatoes, “sometimes I kinder think it’s worth the risk.”
My great regret is that this lady did not live to celebrate the Nineteenth Amendment! With the ballot in her hand she would have stirred excitement even into this dull campaign!
We worked all day, and went around arguing most of the night during that hot campaign. The names we had for the Democrats would not bear repeating here. The other side went around with pieces of chalk, making the figures “321” on every fence and building or on stones. That represented the sum of money which General Garfield was said to have stolen. The Republicans marched around in processions carrying a pair of overalls tied to a pole, representing one of the Democratic candidates. Oh, it was a “campaign of education” without doubt! And then Maine voted! John and his brother-in-law had been playing Maine as their trump card.
“Wait till you hear from the old Pine Tree State. As Maine goes, so goes the Union!”
John felt so sure of it that even his wife was a little fearful. The day after the Maine election John and I were seeding wheat on a hill back from the road. There were no telephones in those days, and news traveled slowly—we were eight miles from town. In the late afternoon we heard a noise from the distant road. There was Peleg Leonard driving his old white horse up the road at full speed and roaring out an old campaign song:
“Wait for the wagon! Wait for the wagon!
Democratic wagon, and we’ll all take a ride!”
The demand for prohibition in those days was confined to a few “wild-eyed fanatics,” and Peleg was not one of them, especially on those rare occasions when the Democrats got a chance to yell. We saw him stop in front of the house and wave his arms as he told the news to Sarah.
“Looks sorter bad. Can it be that Maine has gone back on us?” said John as he saw the celebrator go on his way.
We usually had a cold supper on such days, but now we saw the smoke pouring from the kitchen chimney, and the horn blew half an hour earlier than usual. John and I put up the horses, washed our faces at the pump and walked into the kitchen as only two dejected Republicans can travel. You see, it wasn’t so bad for the Democrats. They were used to being defeated, and had made no great claims. I was young then, and youth is intensely partisan. Since that day I have voted on four different party tickets, and glory in the fact that I am not “hide-bound.”