hocked him so profoundly that he
would take me away if I reminded him of my presence. I know now that I
was witnessing the crude beginnings of the money-machine in
politics,--the beginnings of the downfall of parties,--the beginnings of
the overthrow of the people as the political power. Those stiff-armed
men were the "floating voters" of that ward of Pulaski. They had been
bought up by a rich candidate of the opposition party, which was less
scrupulous than our party, then in the flush of devotion to "principles"
and led by such old-fashioned men as my father with old-fashioned
notions of honor and honesty. Those "floaters" had to keep the ballot in
full view from the time they got it of the agent of their purchaser
until they had deposited it beyond the possibility of substitution--he
must see them "deliver the goods."

My father was defeated. He saw that, in politics, the day of the public
servant of public interests was over, and that the night of the private
servant of private interests had begun. He resigned the leadership into
the dexterous hands of a politician. Soon afterward he died, muttering:
"Prosperity has ruined my country!"

From that election day my interest in politics grew, and but for my
mother's bitter prejudice I should have been an active politician,
perhaps before I was out of college.

Pulaski, indeed all that section of my state, was strongly of my party.
Therefore Dominick, its local boss, was absolute. At the last county
election, four years before the time of which I am writing, there had
been a spasmodic attempt to oust him. He had grown so insolent, and had
put his prices for political and political-commercial "favors" to our
leading citizens so high, that the "best element" in our party
reluctantly broke from its allegiance. To save himself he had been
forced to order flagrant cheating on the tally sheets; his ally and
fellow conspirator, M'Coskrey, the opposition boss, was caught and was
indicted by the grand jury. The Reformers made such a stir that Ben
Cass, the county prosecutor, though a Dominick man, disobeyed his master
and tried and convicted M'Coskrey. Of course, following the custom in
cases of yielding to pressure from public sentiment, he made the
trial-errors necessary to insure reversal in the higher court; and he
finally gave Dominick's judge the opportunity to quash the indictment.
But the boss was relentless,--Cass had been disobedient, and had put
upon "my friend M'Co