An Inspired Lobbyist / 255 and throughout the State there was the liveliest buzzing and humming and clicking of political wheels and cranks and cogs that had ever been known in those hitherto pastoral localities. The case of Fastburg against Slowburg was put in a hundred ways and proved as sure as it was put. It really seemed to the eager burghers as if they already heard the clink of hammers on a new State-House and beheld a perpetual legislature sitting on their fences and curbstones until the edifice should be finished. The great wire-puller and his gang of stipendiaries were the objects of popular gratitude and adoration. The landlord of the hotel which Mr. Pullwool patronized actually would not take pay for that gentleman’s board. “No, sir!” declared this simple Boniface, turning crimson with en­ thusiasm. “You are going to put thousands of dollars into my purse, and I’ll take nothing out of yours. And any little thing in the way of cigars and whiskey that you want, sir, why, call for it. It’s my treat, sir.” “Thank you, sir,” kindly smiled the great man. “That’s what I call the square thing. Mr. Boniface, you are a gentleman and a scholar; and I’ll mention your admirable house to my friends. By the way, I shall have to leave you for a few days.” “Going to leave us!” exclaimed Mr. Boniface, aghast. “I hope not till this job is put through.” “I must run about a bit,” muttered Pullwool, confidentially. “A little turn through the State, you understand, to stir up the country dis­ tricts. Some of the members ain’t as hot as they should be, and I want to set their constituents after them. Nothing like getting on a few deputations.” “ O, exactly!” chuckled Mr. Boniface, ramming his hands into his pockets and cheerfully jingling a bunch of keys and a penknife, for lack of silver. It was strange indeed that he should actually see the Devil in Mr. Pullwool’s eye and should not have a suspicion that he was in danger of being humbugged by him. “And your rooms?” he suggested. “How about them?” “I keep them,” replied the lobbyist, grandly, as if blaspheming the expense—to Boniface. “ Our friends must have a little hole to meet in. And while you are about it, Mr. Boniface, see that they get something to drink and smoke; and we’ll settle it between us.” “ Pre-cisely!” laughed the landlord, as much as to say, “My treat!” And so Mr. Pullwool, that Pericles and Lorenzo de’ Medici rolled in

doi:10.4324/9781351181563-37

Chapter

An Inspired Lobbyist / 255 and throughout the State there was the liveliest buzzing and humming and clicking of political wheels and cranks and cogs that had ever been known in those hitherto pastoral localities. The case of Fastburg against Slowburg was put in a hundred ways and proved as sure as it was put. It really seemed to the eager burghers as if they already heard the clink of hammers on a new State-House and beheld a perpetual legislature sitting on their fences and curbstones until the edifice should be finished. The great wire-puller and his gang of stipendiaries were the objects of popular gratitude and adoration. The landlord of the hotel which Mr. Pullwool patronized actually would not take pay for that gentleman’s board. “No, sir!” declared this simple Boniface, turning crimson with en thusiasm. “You are going to put thousands of dollars into my purse, and I’ll take nothing out of yours. And any little thing in the way of cigars and whiskey that you want, sir, why, call for it. It’s my treat, sir.” “Thank you, sir,” kindly smiled the great man. “That’s what I call the square thing. Mr. Boniface, you are a gentleman and a scholar; and I’ll mention your admirable house to my friends. By the way, I shall have to leave you for a few days.” “Going to leave us!” exclaimed Mr. Boniface, aghast. “I hope not till this job is put through.” “I must run about a bit,” muttered Pullwool, confidentially. “A little turn through the State, you understand, to stir up the country dis tricts. Some of the members ain’t as hot as they should be, and I want to set their constituents after them. Nothing like getting on a few deputations.” “ O, exactly!” chuckled Mr. Boniface, ramming his hands into his pockets and cheerfully jingling a bunch of keys and a penknife, for lack of silver. It was strange indeed that he should actually see the Devil in Mr. Pullwool’s eye and should not have a suspicion that he was in danger of being humbugged by him. “And your rooms?” he suggested. “How about them?” “I keep them,” replied the lobbyist, grandly, as if blaspheming the expense—to Boniface. “ Our friends must have a little hole to meet in. And while you are about it, Mr. Boniface, see that they get something to drink and smoke; and we’ll settle it between us.” “ Pre-cisely!” laughed the landlord, as much as to say, “My treat!” And so Mr. Pullwool, that Pericles and Lorenzo de’ Medici rolled in

Chapter

An Inspired Lobbyist / 255 and throughout the State there was the liveliest buzzing and humming and clicking of political wheels and cranks and cogs that had ever been known in those hitherto pastoral localities. The case of Fastburg against Slowburg was put in a hundred ways and proved as sure as it was put. It really seemed to the eager burghers as if they already heard the clink of hammers on a new State-House and beheld a perpetual legislature sitting on their fences and curbstones until the edifice should be finished. The great wire-puller and his gang of stipendiaries were the objects of popular gratitude and adoration. The landlord of the hotel which Mr. Pullwool patronized actually would not take pay for that gentleman’s board. “No, sir!” declared this simple Boniface, turning crimson with en thusiasm. “You are going to put thousands of dollars into my purse, and I’ll take nothing out of yours. And any little thing in the way of cigars and whiskey that you want, sir, why, call for it. It’s my treat, sir.” “Thank you, sir,” kindly smiled the great man. “That’s what I call the square thing. Mr. Boniface, you are a gentleman and a scholar; and I’ll mention your admirable house to my friends. By the way, I shall have to leave you for a few days.” “Going to leave us!” exclaimed Mr. Boniface, aghast. “I hope not till this job is put through.” “I must run about a bit,” muttered Pullwool, confidentially. “A little turn through the State, you understand, to stir up the country dis tricts. Some of the members ain’t as hot as they should be, and I want to set their constituents after them. Nothing like getting on a few deputations.” “ O, exactly!” chuckled Mr. Boniface, ramming his hands into his pockets and cheerfully jingling a bunch of keys and a penknife, for lack of silver. It was strange indeed that he should actually see the Devil in Mr. Pullwool’s eye and should not have a suspicion that he was in danger of being humbugged by him. “And your rooms?” he suggested. “How about them?” “I keep them,” replied the lobbyist, grandly, as if blaspheming the expense—to Boniface. “ Our friends must have a little hole to meet in. And while you are about it, Mr. Boniface, see that they get something to drink and smoke; and we’ll settle it between us.” “ Pre-cisely!” laughed the landlord, as much as to say, “My treat!” And so Mr. Pullwool, that Pericles and Lorenzo de’ Medici rolled in

DOI link for An Inspired Lobbyist / 255 and throughout the State there was the liveliest buzzing and humming and clicking of political wheels and cranks and cogs that had ever been known in those hitherto pastoral localities. The case of Fastburg against Slowburg was put in a hundred ways and proved as sure as it was put. It really seemed to the eager burghers as if they already heard the clink of hammers on a new State-House and beheld a perpetual legislature sitting on their fences and curbstones until the edifice should be finished. The great wire-puller and his gang of stipendiaries were the objects of popular gratitude and adoration. The landlord of the hotel which Mr. Pullwool patronized actually would not take pay for that gentleman’s board. “No, sir!” declared this simple Boniface, turning crimson with en thusiasm. “You are going to put thousands of dollars into my purse, and I’ll take nothing out of yours. And any little thing in the way of cigars and whiskey that you want, sir, why, call for it. It’s my treat, sir.” “Thank you, sir,” kindly smiled the great man. “That’s what I call the square thing. Mr. Boniface, you are a gentleman and a scholar; and I’ll mention your admirable house to my friends. By the way, I shall have to leave you for a few days.” “Going to leave us!” exclaimed Mr. Boniface, aghast. “I hope not till this job is put through.” “I must run about a bit,” muttered Pullwool, confidentially. “A little turn through the State, you understand, to stir up the country dis tricts. Some of the members ain’t as hot as they should be, and I want to set their constituents after them. Nothing like getting on a few deputations.” “ O, exactly!” chuckled Mr. Boniface, ramming his hands into his pockets and cheerfully jingling a bunch of keys and a penknife, for lack of silver. It was strange indeed that he should actually see the Devil in Mr. Pullwool’s eye and should not have a suspicion that he was in danger of being humbugged by him. “And your rooms?” he suggested. “How about them?” “I keep them,” replied the lobbyist, grandly, as if blaspheming the expense—to Boniface. “ Our friends must have a little hole to meet in. And while you are about it, Mr. Boniface, see that they get something to drink and smoke; and we’ll settle it between us.” “ Pre-cisely!” laughed the landlord, as much as to say, “My treat!” And so Mr. Pullwool, that Pericles and Lorenzo de’ Medici rolled in

An Inspired Lobbyist / 255 and throughout the State there was the liveliest buzzing and humming and clicking of political wheels and cranks and cogs that had ever been known in those hitherto pastoral localities. The case of Fastburg against Slowburg was put in a hundred ways and proved as sure as it was put. It really seemed to the eager burghers as if they already heard the clink of hammers on a new State-House and beheld a perpetual legislature sitting on their fences and curbstones until the edifice should be finished. The great wire-puller and his gang of stipendiaries were the objects of popular gratitude and adoration. The landlord of the hotel which Mr. Pullwool patronized actually would not take pay for that gentleman’s board. “No, sir!” declared this simple Boniface, turning crimson with en thusiasm. “You are going to put thousands of dollars into my purse, and I’ll take nothing out of yours. And any little thing in the way of cigars and whiskey that you want, sir, why, call for it. It’s my treat, sir.” “Thank you, sir,” kindly smiled the great man. “That’s what I call the square thing. Mr. Boniface, you are a gentleman and a scholar; and I’ll mention your admirable house to my friends. By the way, I shall have to leave you for a few days.” “Going to leave us!” exclaimed Mr. Boniface, aghast. “I hope not till this job is put through.” “I must run about a bit,” muttered Pullwool, confidentially. “A little turn through the State, you understand, to stir up the country dis tricts. Some of the members ain’t as hot as they should be, and I want to set their constituents after them. Nothing like getting on a few deputations.” “ O, exactly!” chuckled Mr. Boniface, ramming his hands into his pockets and cheerfully jingling a bunch of keys and a penknife, for lack of silver. It was strange indeed that he should actually see the Devil in Mr. Pullwool’s eye and should not have a suspicion that he was in danger of being humbugged by him. “And your rooms?” he suggested. “How about them?” “I keep them,” replied the lobbyist, grandly, as if blaspheming the expense—to Boniface. “ Our friends must have a little hole to meet in. And while you are about it, Mr. Boniface, see that they get something to drink and smoke; and we’ll settle it between us.” “ Pre-cisely!” laughed the landlord, as much as to say, “My treat!” And so Mr. Pullwool, that Pericles and Lorenzo de’ Medici rolled in

ABSTRACT

The first person whom this apostle of lobbyism called upon in Slow burg was the mayor of that tottering capital.

“My name is Pullwool,” he said to the official, and he said it with an almost enviable ease of impudence, for he was used to introducing himself to people who despised and detested him. “I want to see you confidentially about this capital ring which is making so much trouble.”