human
an hour big with fate, arrived on time. A boy named Aby Abbott was called up ahead of me, but he happened to be one of the presidential aspirants (he was mate on an Illinois river steamboat, stern-wheeler at that, the last I knew of him), and of course he flunked and
gpt
his piece--a sadly prophetic selection--
human
Mr. President, it is natural for man to indulge in the illusions of hope. We made such suggestive and threatening gestures at him, however, when Mr. Hinman wasn't looking, that he forgot half his