We  were  packed  into  several  family  carriages  and  started
off.  In  front  of  the  hall  the  inevitable  red  fire  was  burning,
its  quivering  light  reflected  on  the  faces  of  the  crowd  that
blocked  the  street.  They  stood  silent,  strangely  apathetic
as  we  pushed  through  them  to  the  curb,  and  the  red  fire
went  out  suddenly  as  we  descended.  My  temporary  sense
of  depression,  however,  deserted  me  as  we  entered  the  hall,
which  was  well  lighted  and  filled  with  people,  who  clapped
when  the  Hon.  Joseph  and  I,  accompanied  by  Mr.  Dod-
dridge and  the  Hon.  Henry  Clay  Mellish  from  Pottstown,
with  the  local  chairman,  walked  out  on  the  stage.  A  glance
over  the  audience  sufficed  to  ascertain  that  that  portion  of
the  population  whose  dinner  pails  we  longed  to  fill  was
evidently  not  present  in  large  numbers.  But  the  farmers  had
driven  in  from  the  hills,  while  the  merchants  and  store-
keepers of  Elkington  had  turned  out  loyally.
The  chairman,  in  introducing  me,  proclaimed  me  as  a
coming  man,  and  declared  that  I  had  already  achieved,  in
the  campaign,  considerable  notoriety.  As  I  spoke,  I  was
pleasantly  aware  of  Maude  Hutchins  leaning  forward  a
Uttle  across  the  rail  of  the  right-hand  stage  box  —  for  the
town  hall  was  half  opera-house ;   her  attitude  was  one  of


A  FAR  COUNTRY  213

semi-absorbed  admiration ;  and  the  thought  that  I  had  made
an  impression  on  her  stimulated  me.  I  spoke  with  more
aplomb.  Somewhat  to  my  surprise,  I  found  myself  making
occasional,  unexpected  witticisms  that  drew  laughter  and
applause.  Suddenly,  from  the  back  of  the  hall,  a  voice  called
out:  —

"How  about  House  Bill  709?"

There  was  a  silence,  then  a  stirring  and  craning  of  necks.
