“‘All the men in the city.’
“‘Do your fathers vote?’”
“‘Course—ain’t they Riverporters?’
“‘Then,’ I said, ‘you belong to the city, and you own a little bit of the Mayor, and I have just been asking him to give you a park to play in, but he won’t.’
“The children didn’t seem to care, so I became demagoguish. ‘Boys and girls,’ I said, ‘the children of the North End have a park, the children of the South End have a park, the children of the West End have a park, but the children of the East End aren’t good enough to have a park! What do you think ought to be done to the Mayor?’
“A little girl giggled, and said, ‘Duck him in the river,’ and a boy said, ‘Tar and feather him.’
“‘No,’ I said, ‘that would not be right, but, come now, children, don’t you want a park—a nice wide place with trees, and benches, and swings, and a big heap of sand to play in?’
“‘Oh, glorymaroo!’ said a little girl, ‘it would be just like a Sunday-school picnic.’
“‘Yes, just like a picnic every day, and now, children, you can have this park if you will do as I tell you; will you?’
“‘Yes, yes,’ they all shouted, for they had begun to get excited. ‘Now listen,’ I went on, and I indicated two of the most ragged little creatures present, ‘go to the city hall, take each other’s hands, and when you see the Mayor coming, go up to him politely, and say, “Please, Mr. Mayor, will you give the children of the East End a park to play in?”’