Baltimore Evening Sun (27 October 1913): 6.


A ticket to the Friendly Inn to anyone who can think of a single reason, sound or unsound, for voting against the Hon. Stephen C. Little, Clerk of the Superior Court and candidate for re-election. When a good man gets into public office and surrounds himself with good subordinates, why not leave him there?–Free Adv.

A DAILY THOUGHT. The persecuting spirit has its origin morally in the disposition of man to domineer over his fellow creatures; intellectually, in the assumption that one’s own opinions are infallibly correct.—John Fiske.

From a political article in the Maryland Suffrage News:

Every suffragist in the State must bring all possible pressure to bear on the Democratic candidates from [in?] her district, and if they then refuse to support the [woman suffrage] bill, the suffragists must work against their election.

Middling bad advice, particularly in view of what happened when the suffragists “worked against” the election of the Hon. Cy Cummings, that tough nut. The chances are at least 10 to 1 that the next Legislature will be overwelmingly Democratic. Therefore, the suffragists will have to get what they want, if they get it at all, by the gentle art of persuasion. They will accomplish nothing by threats–the successful Legislators will be brave and feeling their oats. Nor will they accomplish anything by making themselves unpleasant during the campaign. Whenever they lambast a candidate who is elected in spite of them, they will be simply sending an open and bitter enemy to Annapolis. Better by far to use suaver and milder arts. Better by far to make love to the candidates than to try to scare them. Most of them will refuse to be scared, and even those that are will not enjoy it. The Hon. William H. Anderson has never learned that lesson--and neither has he passed the local option bill.

The Hon. Sunday-school Field at the Orpheum Theatre

[The Hon. E. Milton] Altfeld is the only newspaper reporter in the city who owns his own soul. He is the only man who dares write of things as he sees them, and not at the dictates of others.

What is more, he is the only one who sees things correctly, acutely, discriminatingly. He can see straight through the tattered motley and false whiskers of an old-fashioned Sunday- school superintendent and behold the pulsing of the pure heart within. He can look at the Hon. Dashing Harry, and see a great reformer. He can look at the Hon. Paving Bob Padgett, and behold an altruist.

The Anti-Saloon League is flooding the State with literature attacking the Hon. Blair Lee, that affecting friend to tho plain people. He is depicted as a commingling of Judas Iscariot, Benedict Arnold, General Huerta and Pontius Pilate–as a traitor, a corruptionist, a booze-fighter, a kidnapper, a bunco steerer, a road agent, a cattle rustler, a cancer quack, a poker sharp, a porch climber, a pirate on the high seas. It is argued vociferously that any voter who votes for him will deal a staggering blow at republican institutions and the domestic hearth, and will inevitably go to hell for it when he dies. And by the same token, the Hon. Tom Parran is drawn as an archangel with snow-white wings–a mixture of Florence Nightingale, Judge Ben B. Lindsey, Jane Addams, the Hon. Martyr Sulzer and the Hon. Charles J. Bonaparte, LL. D.–a good little boy in a white bib, a Matterhorn of brains, a reservoir of virtue, a lion among rats, the archenemy of political corruption, a great moral leader, a confirmed boozehound, an excoriator of sin, the anti-devil, the super-Sunday-school Field, Maryland’s favorite and sweetest son. Every voter who votes for him is guaranteed a ticket to Heaven, countersigned by the Hon. William H. Anderson.

Thus the carnpilign literature of the plupious and unhomorous Anti-Saloon League, that most exclusive of sporting clubs. The temptation to reprint a few strophes of it here is very strong, but I resist and proceed to other themes. I am keeping it, in fact, for a lovelier and more attractive purpose: I am going to reprint it the week following the Hon. Mr. Lee’s election.

The estimable Democratic Telegram of this week covers its first page with a lithograph of the Hon. Henry D. Harlan, C. J., a jurist whom we all delight to honor, some of us as a measure of discretion, but more of us in all sincerity. In its literary contents the Democratic Telegram says that the county voters were lifted to frenzies of joy by the sight of the Hon. Dashing Harry, encourages the dogfight between Republicans and Progressives, and does some sly sneering at the advocates of the commission form of city government. The Hon. D. Harry is mentioned 27 times in this issue, each time favorably. An excellent number of a hot and bouncing paper.--Adv.

Boil your drinking water! Weep with D’Harry! Watch Paving Bob slip back!

The betting odds in epicurean circles, as reported by the headwaiter in the Rennert:

4 to 1 that if Col. Jacobus Hook were running for elective office next Tuesday he would be elected unanimously.

Astute remark of the late Samuel Johnson, Litt. D.:

An ambassador is a man who goes abroad to lie for the good of his country. A journalist is a man who stays at home to pursue the same vocation.

Respectfully referred to the Hon. Isaac Lobe Straus, as ammunition more seemly than mere bellowing and buncombe.