Mr. Hamblin was a genial conversationalist, and with his political reputation preceding him was of course much courted by all at the "Lakeside." Having been a State Senator for two terms, a prominent candidate for gubernatorial honors at a late convention, and possessing wealth and eloquence, his power was naturally great. A candidate for renomination the coming fall, he had already started the machinery to obtain control of delegates needed to consummate his desired wish.
American politics are controlled entirely by "wires," those of the great political machine being intricate as the telegraph netting one sees over the roof-tops of a large city. Mr. Hamblin, with a perfect knowledge of the workings of this machine, knew that a successful candidate must be able to manipulate the little wires of the party caucus, for as the caucuses are the expression of each town in the senatorial or assembly district, to obtain needed support requires wire-pullers in every school district. A candidate's personal merit is of minor consequence; he can do nothing without understanding the working of the party machinery, and knowing also how to lubricate the entire apparatus with money.
Mr. Hamblin had been a little uneasy of late, a rival having arisen to contest his field. Heretofore enjoying the monopoly in the district, he was now in danger of meeting an obstacle in his onward course. As he sat on the piazza holding a letter in his hand, he soliloquized:
"Well, well! Making my way in politics has always been easy as knocking the ashes from this cigar, but if Miller's letter is correct Darius Hamblin is in danger. Let me see; I'll read this over again"—and he closely scanned the following letter:
Cleverdale, July 31, 187–.
Hon. Darius Hamblin:
Dear Sir: It is just as I feared: Daley says he will be a candidate at all hazards, and asserts he can drive you from the track very easily, having your former clerk's evidence to use against you. He is desperate, and has already been seen to visit saloons in the village, spending considerable money to win over the boys. Can you meet Rawlings, Horton, and myself at Saratoga Saturday night?
Answer by telegraph at once.
Yours,
Cyrus Hart Miller.
Mr. Hamblin knit his brow for a moment and said:
"Of course I must go. I must not be beaten this year. The next gubernatorial nomination may be mine if I win this time. I can be elected Governor, and Daley must be crushed or bought off. The die is cast—I leave on the next boat for Saratoga."
Rising from his seat and wiping the perspiration from his brow, he passed on to his room. Mrs. Hamblin expressed no surprise when informed he was going to Saratoga, for she had become accustomed to his sudden moves since he had gone into politics; she had learned that everything must be secondary to his ambition and political necessities. She quickly packed a small satchel, and the boat being due in an hour, Mr. Hamblin walked out to bid his children good-by.
Belle, leaving the side of a gentleman sitting beneath an arbor, came to meet him.
"Oh, papa! are you going away? That is too bad! I expected to take you out for a row this evening. Beside, a moonlight concert at Cleverdale Camp is announced in honor of your visit. Can't you postpone your departure?"