220 AT THE NORTH OF BE ARC AMP WATER . 
the letter D. Wherever you see D, put down 
your cross.” Then a sample ballot was dis¬ 
played to Jim, and that worthy child of Quebec 
proved the truth of his assertion that he could 
“read D in English evvy time, sir.” 
Just before ten, the three stores gave up 
their crowds in favor of the growing swarm in 
front of the town-house. It was a strange com¬ 
mingling of men. The bone and sinew of rural 
New England were there, and so were the gristle, 
the fat, and the lean. Men well past ninety 
tottered feebly to the benches which flanked the 
broad open floor of the hall. Young fellows, 
just of age, stepped briskly in and went to the 
platform to see that their names had been 
duly added to the printed check-list of voters. 
Gaunt, loose-jointed, thin-faced men, in worn 
shoddy, the modern successor of honest home- 
spun, dragged themselves through the crowd, 
answering salutations with grim indifference. 
Big, burly men with broad, gray felt hats and 
scarlet flannel leggings strode in more confi¬ 
dently, fresh from the spruce woods. Well- 
dressed, clean-shaven men with city hats and 
big watch-chains shook hands with everybody, 
and with a hand on John’s shoulder or Edson’s 
elbow whispered a word in the young voter’s 
ear. The New England farmer or lumberman 
does not ride horseback. He probably knows 
