University of Virginia Library

76. CHAPTER LXXVI.
A SOCIAL GLASS.

The Honorable Abel Newt was elected to Congress in place
of the Honorable Watkins Bodley, who withdrew on account
of the embarrassment of his private affairs. At a special
meeting of the General Committee, Mr. Enos Slugby, Chairman
of the Ward Committee, introduced a long and eloquent
resolution, deploring the loss sustained by the city and by the
whole country in the resignation of the Honorable Watkins
Bodley—sympathizing with him in the perplexity of his private
affairs—but rejoicing that the word “close up!” was always
faithfully obeyed—that there was always a fresh soldier
to fill the place of the retiring—and that the Party never summoned
her sons in vain.

General Belch then rose and offered a resolution:

“Resolved—That in the Honorable Abel Newt, our representative,
just elected by a triumphant majority of the votes
of the enlightened and independent voters of the district—a
constituency of whose favor the most experienced and illustrious
statesmen might be proud—we recognize a worthy exemplar
of the purest republican virtues, a consistent enemy of
a purse-proud aristocracy, the equally unflinching friend of the
people; a man who dedicates with enthusiasm the rare powers
of his youth, and his profoundest and sincerest convictions,
to the great cause of popular rights of which the Party
is the exponent.

“Resolved—That the Honorable Abel Newt be requested,
at the earliest possible moment, to unfold to his fellow-citizens
his views upon State and National political affairs.”

Mr. William Condor spoke feelingly in support of the resolutions:

“Fellow - citizens!” he said, eloquently, in conclusion, “if

there is one thing nobler than another, it is an upright, downright,
disinterested, honest man. Such I am proud and happy
to declare my friend, your friend, the friend of all honest
men, to be; and I call for three cheers for Honest Abel
Newt!”

They were given with ardor; and then General Belch was
called out for a few remarks, “which he delivered,” said the
Evening Banner of the Union, “with his accustomed humor,
keeping the audience in a roar of laughter, and sending every
body happy to bed.”

The Committee-meeting was over, and the spectators retired
to the neighboring bar-rooms. Mr. Slugby, Mr. Condor, and
General Belch tarried behind, with two or three more.

“Shall we go to Newt's?” asked the General.

“Yes, I told him we should be round after the meeting,”
replied Mr. Condor; and the party were presently at his rooms.

The Honorable Abel had placed several full decanters upon
the table, with a box of cigars.

“Mr. Newt,” said Enos Slugby, after they had been smoking
and drinking for some time.

Abel turned his head.

“You have an uncle, have you not?”

Abel nodded.

“A very eminent merchant, I believe. His name is very
well known, and he commands great respect. Ahem!”

Mr. Slugby cleared his throat; then continued:

“He will naturally be very much interested in the career
and success of his nephew.”

“Oh, immensely!” replied Abel, in a thick voice, and with
a look and tone which suggested to his friends that he was
rapidly priming himself. “Immensely, enormously!”

“Ah, yes,” said Mr. Slugby, with an air of curious meditation.
“I do not remember to have heard the character of his
political proclivities mentioned. But, of course, as the brother
of Boniface Newt and the uncle of the Honorable Abel Newt”
—here Mr. Slugby bowed to that gentleman, who winked at

him over the rim of his glass—“he is naturally a friend of the
people.”

“Yes,” returned Abel.

“I think you said he was very fond of you?” added Mr.
Slugby, while his friends looked expectantly on.

“Fond? It's a clear case of apple of the eye,” answered
Abel, chuckling.

“Very good,” said William Condor; “very good, indeed!”

“Capital!” laughed Belch; and whispered to his neighbor
Condor, “In vino veritas.”

As they whispered, and smiled, and nodded together, Abel
Newt glanced around the circle with sullen, fiery eyes.

“Uncle Lawrence is worth a million of dollars,” said he,
carelessly.

The group of political gentlemen shook their heads in silent
admiration. They seemed to themselves to have struck a
golden vein, and General Belch could not help inwardly complimenting
himself upon his profound sagacity in having put
forward a candidate who had a bachelor uncle who doated
upon him, and who was worth a million. He perceived at
once his own increased importance in the Party. To have displaced
Watkins Bodley—who was not only an uncertain party
implement, but poor—by an unhesitating young man of great
ability and of enormous prospects, he knew was to have secured
for himself whatever he chose to ask. The fat nose
reddened and glistened as if it would burst with triumph and
joy. General Arcularius Belch was satisfied.

“Of course,” said William Condor, “a man of Mr. Lawrence
Newt's experience and knowledge of the world is aware that
there are certain necessary expenses attendant upon elections
—such as printing, rent, lighting, warming, posting, etc.—”

“In fact, sundries,” said Abel, smiling with the black eyes.

“Yes, precisely; sundries,” answered Mr. Condor, “which
sometimes swell to quite an inordinate figure. Your uncle, I
presume, Mr. Newt, would not be unwilling to contribute a
certain share of the expense of your election; and indeed, now

that you are so conspicuous a leader, he would probably expect
to contribute handsomely to the current expenses of the
Party. Isn't it so?”

“Of course,” said General Belch.

“Of course,” said Enos Slugby.

“Of course,” echoed the two or three other gentlemen who
sat silently, assiduously smoking and drinking.

“Oh, clearly, of course,” answered Abel, still thickly, and
in a tone by no means agreeable to his companions. “What
should you consider to be his fair share?”

“Well,” began Condor, “I should think, in ordinary times,
a thousand a year; and then, as particular occasion demands.”

At this distinct little speech the whole company lifted their
glasses that they might more conveniently watch Abel.

With a half-maudlin grin he looked along the line.

“By-the-by, Condor, how much do you give a year?” asked
he.

There was a moment's silence.

“Hit, by G—!” energetically said one of the silent men.

“Good for Newt!” cried General Belch, thumping the
table.

There was another little burst of laughter, with the least
possible merriment in it. William Condor joined with an entirely
unruffled face.

“As for Belch,” continued Abel, with what would be called
in animals an ugly expression—“Belch is the clown, and they
left him off easy. The Party is like the old kings, it keeps a
good many fools to make it laugh.”

His tone was threatening, and nobody laughed. General
Belch looked as if he were restraining himself from knocking
his friend down. But they all saw that their host was mastered
by his own liquor.

“Squeeze Lawrence Newt, will you? Why, Lord, gentlemen,
what do you suppose he thinks of you—I mean, of fellows
like you?” asked Abel.

He paused, and glared around him. William Condor daintily

knocked off the ash of his cigar with the tip of his little
finger, and said, calmly,

“I am sure I don't know.”

“Nor care,” said General Belch.

“He thinks you're all a set of white-livered sneaks!” shouted
Abel, in a voice harsh and hoarse with liquor.

The gentlemen were silent. The leaders wagged their feet
nervously; the others looked rather amused.

“No offense,” resumed Abel. “I don't mean he despises
you in particular, but all bar-room bobtails.”

His voice thickened rapidly.

“Of all mean, mis-mis-rabble hounds, he thinks you are the
dirt-est.”

Still no reply was made. The honorable gentleman looked
at his guests leeringly, but found no responsive glance.

“In vino veritas,” whispered Condor to his neighbor Belch.
William Condor was always clean in linen and calm in manner.

“Don't be 'larmed, fel-fel-f'-low cit-zens! Lawrence Newt's
no friend of mine. I guess his G— d— pride 'll get a tumble
some day; by G— I do!” Abel added, with a fierce hiss.

The guests looked alarmed as they heard the last words.
Abel ceased, and passed the decanter, which they did not decline;
for they all felt as if the Honorable Abel Newt would
probably throw it at the head of any man who said or did
what he did not approve. There was a low anxious murmur
of conversation among them until Abel was evidently very intoxicated,
and his head sank upon his breast.

“I'm terribly afraid we've burned our fingers,” said Mr.
Enos Slugby, looking a little ruefully at the honorable representative.

“Oh, I hope not,” said General Belch; “but there may be
some breakers ahead. If we lose the Grant it won't be the
first cause or man that has been betrayed by the bottle. Condor,
let me fill your glass. It is clear that if our dear friend
Newt has a weakness it is the bottle; and if our enemies at

Washington, who want to head off this Grant, have a strength,
it is finding out an adversary's soft spot. We may find in this
case that it's dangerous playing with edged tools. But I've
great faith in his want of principle. We can show him so
clearly that his interest, his advance, his career depend so entirely
upon his conduct, that I think we can keep him straight.
And, for my part, if we can only work this Grant through, I
shall retire upon my share of the proceeds, and leave politics
to those who love 'em. But I don't mean to have worked for
nothing—hey, Condor?”

“Amen,” replied William, placidly.

“By-the-by, Condor,” said Mr. Enos Slugby.

Mr. Condor turned toward him inquiringly.

“I heard Jim say t'other day—”

“Who's Jim?” asked Condor.

“Jim!” returned Slugby, “Jim—why, Jim's the party in
my district.”

“Oh yes—yes; I beg pardon,” said Condor; “the name
had escaped me.”

“Well, I heard Jim say t'other day that Mr. William Condor
was getting `too d—d stuck up,' and that he'd yank him
out of his office if he didn't mind his eye. That's you, Condor;
so I advise you to look out. It's easy enough to manage
Jim, if you take care. He'll go as gently as a well-broke
filly; but if he once takes a lurch—if he thinks you're too
`proud' or `big,' it's all up with you. So mind how you treat
Jim.”

“Well, well,” said Belch, impatiently; “we've other business
on hand now.”

“Exactly,” said Condor; “we are the Honorable Abel's
Jim. Turn about is fair play. Jim makes us go; we make
Abel go. It's a lovely series of checks and balances.”

He said it so quietly and airily that they all laughed. Then
the General continued:

“We're going to send Newt to look after Ele, and I rather
think we shall have to send somebody to look after Newt.

However, we'll see. Let's leave this hog to snore by himself.”

They rose as he spoke.

“What were the words of your resolution, Belch?” asked
William Condor, with his eyes twinkling. “I don't quite remember.
Did you say,” he added, looking at Abel, who lay
huddled, dead drunk, in his chair, “that he dedicated to his
country his profoundest and sincerest, or sincerest and profoundest
convictions?”

“And you, Condor,” said Enos Slugby, smiling, as he lighted
a fresh cigar, “did you say that you were proud and happy,
or happy and proud, to call him your friend?”

“Lord! Lord! what an old hum it is—isn't it?” said General
Belch, cheerfully, as he smoothed his hat with his coat-sleeve,
and put it on.

They went down stairs laughing and chatting; and the
Honorable Abel Newt, the worthy exemplar of the purest republican
virtues—as the resolution stated when it appeared in
the next morning's papers—was left snoring amidst his constituency
of empty decanters and drained glasses.