The Nevada Journal

HUMORS OF ELECTIONEERING.
From the Tuscaloosa Monitor of Sept. 25
We Give IT UP.—We have in our time met with some good electioneers. In this our good old county of Tuscaloosa we have some that are hard to beat. We have seen some of them walk into a large crowd, and in less than ten minutes shake hands with every man present, inquire affectionately into the state of his own health and that of each member of his family and express the deepest sympathy on account of the "long dry spell" which was injuring his crop. Nor was this all; for, while the candidate was thus sympathizing with one of the sovereigns on account of his misfortunes, he would, almost in the same breath, succeed in convincing another "constituent" that upon his election depended whether or not a plank road should be made to pass close by the said constituent's door, and whether or not the valueless sixteenth section in that township should be enriched by an equalization of the school fund.
We have often wondered how on earth the people are ever able to decide who to vote for, when all the candidates are such clever fellows, and all make such fine promises.
Some years ago, before the State of Palmetto had determined to secede we had occasion to pay a visit to the pleasant village of Carollton. The weather being quite warm, we concluded to stop, during the heat of the day, at the house of an old Florida fellow-soldier whom we had not seen for many years. He had retired upon his laurels, and, having got married, had, we understood, been religiously fulfilling one of the most important scriptural injunctions. Three or four chubby flaxen-headed little fellows, almost in a state of nudity, were playing about the yard, and we had not been long under the roof of our hospitable friend before he caught and dragged up before us the largest, and apparently the oldest, of the group.
The little fellow came forward very reluctantly, and, as he was tightly held by the collar of his only garment, his struggles caused it to cover rather less of his person than strict propriety required. As soon as the youngster was brought in, the father exclaimed,
"Look here at this boy, Squire, and see what's curious about him." The first thing, of course, which struck us was the curtailed state of his wardrobe, but this evidently was not the point to which our friend wished to direct our attention. The next peculiarity which we noticed was a very complete and darkly defined circle quite visible around the circumference of the little fellow's face. This we presumed had been caused by a hasty effort to wash him, the result of which was that the dusty particles which had been accumulating upon his face all day were removed from the central part around the nose and eyes, and had been snugly and symmetrically arranged into the aforesaid circle.
We no doubt looked somewhat puzzled, and were about to remark that we thought the little fellow had a very comical expression of countenance, when luckily we were cut short by the father's remarking, "Ah, Squire, I see you don't know anything about phrenology. Why, it ain't no longer than last week that Squire P—(now one of the ornaments of our circuit bench) came along here, and he hadn't more'n got into the yard before he says to me, 'R—,' says he, 'bring that little fellow here. What's his name? Absalom is it? Well, it's a good scripture name, and I might almost have guessed that was it, because his hair has growed out so long R—, have you ever had this boy's head examined?'" "Well," continued R—., "this sort a took me back, 'cus I didn't exactly know what the squire meant by having his head examined. So I told him I believed the old woman 'tended to that. He laughed right out at this, and then told me he meant examined phrenologically. He then took Absalom there, in his lap, and after feelin' round his head for bumps, as he called 'em, he says to me, 'R—,' says he, 'do a good part by this boy; he's bound to make a man if you give him half a chance for he's got a head just exactly like Bonaparte and General Washington.'
'I'll tell you what it is,' said R—., addressing us very emphatically, "it's my opinion that Squire P—is about the smartest man we've got running for the Legislature, and he'll get my vote, sure!" We left our old friend soon after, determining in our mind that before we ventured to become a candidate for any office we would have to take some lessons in "phrenology."

But, notwithstanding that Alabama in general and Tuscaloosa county in particular has some electioneers that will do to brag on, still we think they are all thrown into the shade by a genius who has lately been found in Mississippi, and who can beat Squire P—, or Judge M—, or "Gen. D—, or even the "invincible R—n" himself, and give any of them two in the game. If any one doubts this, let him read the following sketch. We premise that Russell is the Union and Swan the Secession candidate for State Auditor in the approaching election in Mississippi:

AN ELECTIONEERING GEM.
One of the greatest electioneers of the age is Mr. Daniel R. Russell, a candidate for auditor in Mississippi. His mode of electioneering is to deal with the "sovereigns" with the most blunt frankness, discarding every particle of blarneying humbug. The following sketch of a late speech delivered by him must have puzzled his opponent to reply to:

Ladies and Gentlemen: I rise—but there's no use telling you that; you know I am up as well as I do. I am a modest man; very; but I never lost a picayune by it in my life. Being a scarce commodity among candidates, I thought I would mention it, for fear if I didn't you never would hear it. Candidates are generally considered as nuisances, but they are not; they are the politest men in the world, shake you by the hand, ask you how's your family, what's the prospect for crops, &c., and I am the politest man there is in the State. Davy Crockett says the politest man he ever saw when he asked a man to drink, turned his back so that he might drink as much as he pleased. I beat that all hollow: I give a man a chance to drink twice if he wishes, for not only turn around, but shut my eyes. I am not only the politest man, but the best electioneerer. You ought to see me shaking hands with the variations—the pump-handle and pendulum, the cross-cut and wiggly-waggle. I understand the science perfectly, and if any of the county candidates wish instructions they must call on me.
Fellow-citizens, I was born—if I hadn't been, I wouldn't have been a candidate; but I am going to tell you where; 'twas not in Mississippi, but 'twas on the right side of the negro line; yet that's no compliment, as the negroes are mostly born on the same side. I started in the world as poor as a church mouse, yet I came honestly by my poverty, for I inherited it: and if I did start poor, no man can say but that I have held my own remarkably well.
Candidates generally tell you, if you think they are qualified, &c. Now, I don't ask your thoughts; I ask your votes. Why, there's nothing to think of, except to watch and see that Swan's name is not on your ticket. If so, think to scratch it off, and put mine on. I am certain that I am competent, for who had ought to know better than I do? Nobody. I will allow that Swan is the best Auditor in the State,—that is, till I am elected; then perhaps it is not proper for me to say any thing more. Yet, as an honest man, I am bound to say that I believe it's a grievous sin to hide any thing from my fellow-citizens; therefore, I say it's my private opinion, publicly expressed, that I'll make the best Auditor ever in the United States.
'Tis not for honor I wish to be Auditor, for in my own county I was offered an office that was all honor—Coroner—which I respectfully declined. The Auditor's office is worth some $5,000 a year, and I am in for it like a thousand of brick. To show my goodness of heart, I'll make this offer to my competitor. I am sure of being elected, and he will lose something by the canvass; therefore I am willing to divide equally with him, and make these two offers: I'll take the salary, and he may have the honor; or he may have the honor, and I'll take the salary.
In the way of honors I have received enough to satisfy me for life. I went out to Mexico, eat pork and beans slept in the rain and mud, and swallowed every thing except live Mexicans. If ordered to "go," I went; "charge," I charged; "break for the chaparral," you had better believe I beat a quarter nag in doing my duty.
My competitor, Swan, is a bird of golden plumage, who has been swimming for the last four years in the Auditor's pond, at $5,000 a year. I am for rotation. I want to rotate him out, and to rotate myself in. There's plenty of room for him to swim outside of that pond; therefore pop in your votes for me; I'll pop him out, and pop myself in.
I am for a division of labor. Swan says he has to work all the time, with his nose down to the public grindstone. Four years must have ground it to a pint. Poor fellow, the public ought not to insist on having the handle of his mug ground clean off. I have a large, full-grown, and well-blown nose, red as a beet and tough as sole-leather. I rush to the post of duty. I offer it up as a sacrifice. I clap it on the grindstone. Fellow-citizens, grind away—grind till I holler enuff, and that will be some time first, for I'll hang like grim death to a dead African.
Time's most out. Well, I like to forgot to tell you my name. Its Daniel—for short, Dan. Not a handsome name, for my parents were poor people, who lived where the quality appropriated all the nice names; therefore they had to take what was left and divide around among us: but it's as handsome as I am—R. Russell.
Remember, every one of you, that it's not Swan.
I am sure to be elected; so, one and all, great and small, short and tall, when you come down to Jackson, after the election, stop at the Auditor's office; the latch string always hangs out; enter without knocking; take off your things and make yourself at home.
Dan crawfished out of the stand, bobbing his head like a tip-up, amid the cheers for "Dan," "A. D. m Russell," and "Young Davy Crockett."