“Not tommyrot?” Tom ejaculated.  “Everybody’s laughing.  When I passed the Honourable Hilary’s door just now, Brush Bascom and some of the old liners were there, reciting parts of the proclamation, and the boys down in the Ripton House are having the time of their lives.”

Austen took the Guardian, and there, sure enough, filling a leading column, and in a little coarser type than the rest of the page, he read: 

          Downwith railroad rule!

     The Honourable Humphrey Crewe of Leith, at the request
     of twenty prominent citizens, consents to become a candidate
     for the Republican Nomination for Governor.

Ringing letter of acceptance, in which he denounces the political power of the Northeastern Railroads, and declares that the State is governed from a gilded suite of offices in New Pork.

“The following letter, evincing as it does a public opinion thoroughly aroused in all parts of the State against the present disgraceful political conditions, speaks for itself.  The standing and character of its signers give it a status which Republican voters cannot ignore.”

The letter followed.  It prayed Mr. Crewe, in the name of decency and good government, to carry the standard of honest men to victory.  Too long had a proud and sovereign State writhed under the heel of an all-devouring corporation!  Too long had the Northeastern Railroads elected, for their own selfish ends, governors and legislatures and controlled railroad commissions The spirit of 1776 was abroad in the land.  It was eminently fitting that the Honourable Humphrey Crewe of Leith, who had dared to fling down the gauntlet in the face of an arrogant power, should be the leader of the plain people, to recover the rights which had been wrested from them.  Had he not given the highest proof that he had the people’s interests at heart?  He was clearly a man who “did things.”

At this point Austen looked up and smiled.

“Tom,” he asked, “has it struck you that this is written in the same inimitable style as a part of the message of the Honourable Asa Gray?”

Tom slapped his knee.

“That’s exactly what I said I!” he cried.  “Tooting wrote it.  I’ll swear to it.”

“And the twenty prominent citizens—­do you know any of ’em, Tom?”

“Well,” said Tom, in delighted appreciation, “I’ve heard of three of ’em, and that’s more than any man I’ve met can boast of.  Ed Dubois cuts my hair when I go to Kingston.  He certainly is a prominent citizen in the fourth ward.  Jim Kendall runs the weekly newspaper in Grantley—­I understood it was for sale.  Bill Clements is prominent enough up at Groveton.  He wanted a trolley franchise some years ago, you remember.”

“And didn’t get it.”