y the vote of a poor man; and what
matters such a vote?"

"There is your want of sense again. We are living in a state that
enjoys liberty. We are living in an age of intelligence, of moral
advancement, of civilization and knowledge, in a word, we are living in
an age of progress; and in an age of this sort the vote of a poor man
is worth as much as that of a rich man."

"If only I had it to do over! I would give my right hand to have it to
do over!"

"You can repair the mischief if you want."

"Instruct me how, Mr. Spitzkopf; please tell me how!"

"Very well, I will do my best. As you acted from thoughtlessness and no
bad intention, doubtless Mr. Schwefel will suffer himself to be
propitiated. Go down into the court, and wait till I come. I shall get
you another ticket; you will then vote for progress, and all will be
satisfactory."

"I am a thousand times obliged to you, Mr. Spitzkopf--a thousand times
obliged!"

The agent went back to the hall. Leicht descended to the courtyard,
where he found a ring of timid operators like himself surrounding the
sturdy Holt. They were talking in an undertone. As often as a
progressionist drew near, their conversation was hushed altogether.
Holt's voice alone resounded loudly through the court, and his huge
strong hands were cutting the air in animated gesticulations.

"This is not a free election; it is one of compulsion and violence,"
cried he. "Every factoryman is compelled to vote as his employer
dictates, and should he refuse the employer discharges him from the
work. Is not this most despicable tyranny! And these very tyrants of
progress are perpetually prating about liberty, independence,
civilization! That's a precious sort of liberty indeed!"

"A man belonging to the ultramontane party cannot walk the streets
to-day without being hooted and insulted," said another. "Even up
yonder in the hall, those gentlemen who are considered so cultivated
stick their heads together and laugh scornfully when one of us draws
near."

"That's so--that's so, I have myself seen it," cried Holt. "Those
well-bred gentlemen show their teeth like ferocious dogs whenever they
see a yellow ticket or an ultramontane. I say, Leicht, has anything
happened you? You look wretched!" Leicht drew near and related what had
occurred. The honest Holt's eyes gleamed like coals of fire.

"There's another piece of tyranny for you," cried he. "Leicht, my poor
fellow, I fancy I see in you a slave of