human
Gen'lemen--'ere's hopin' that to-morrer evenin' the old man'll scoop in all the (hic) votes and every son of a gun'll be a--a Millerite. Eh, Miller! ole man, how's that fer a thurrerbred?
gpt
Faith, the iditor is as livel-headed as that darlin' ould mon, my Paddy.
human
Boys, I hope you will all attend the caucus to-morrow evening, using your prerogatives as free citizens to help sustain an honest man--the people's candidate--against the monopolies that are trying to overthrow the individual rights of every man here. Then taking the red fist of Paddy, he whispered:
gpt
Well done, old friend; you are a power, and the Senator knows it, and won't forget it either.