A political office in a small town was vacant. The office paid $250 a year and there was keen competition for it. One of the candidates, Ezekiel Hicks, was a shrewd old fellow, and a neat campaign fund was turned over to him. To the astonishment of all, however, he was defeated.
"I can't account for it," said one of the leaders of Hicks' party, gloomily.
"With that money we should have won. How did you lay it out, Ezekiel."
"Well," said Ezekiel, slowly pulling his whiskers, "yer see that office only pays $250 a year salary, an' I didn't see no sense in paying $900 out to get the office, so I bought a little truck farm instead."
The little daughter of a Democratic candidate for a local office in Saratoga County, New York, when told that her father had got the nomination, cried out, "Oh, mama, do they ever die of it?"
"I am willing," said the candidate, after he had hit the table a terrible blow with his fist, "to trust the people."
"Gee!" yelled a little man in the audience. "I wish you'd open a grocery."