The Statesmen Snowbound | Page 6

Senator reproachfully. "I see you are getting back at me. I didn't think it of you. No bouquets, if you please. As a matter of fact, gentlemen, I feel that I am growing beautifully less every day; I have noticed it ever since I came to Washington. I haven't been in the Senate long enough to amount to anything, if I ever do. We new people are only in demand when there is a vote to be taken. We are put on minor committees, and are thankful for any crumbs that fall from the great man's table. I am a very small spar in the ship of state. It takes all the conceit out of a fellow when he finds how little he amounts to in Washington. He leaves his own part of the world a giant, puffed up with pride and importance; but the shrinking process begins as soon as the train rolls out of the home depot. It comes on like an attack of the ague--you are first hot, then cold, then colder still. You shiver and shake----"
"For drinks?" murmured one of the newspaper men absently.
"Well--yes," replied the Senator, smiling. "I hadn't thought of that. Very neatly put. Quite true. And, as I say, he shivers and shakes--for drinks--loses, and loses--pays for them, and by the time he reaches Washington he and his pocket-book are several sizes below normal."
The humble attitude of this, one of America's wealthiest and most influential men, was edifying but scarcely convincing. The newspaper men looked at one another dubiously. Perhaps, they thought, when the Senator's magnificent house in the West End was completed, and his wife and daughters came over from Paris, the poor fellow would not be so lonely and neglected. He was a fine man, and it seemed too bad that he should be so side-tracked.
"Quite true, Senator," agreed Representative Holloway, "and matters are even worse in the House. There are more of us there, and the mere individual is more dwarf-like than over in the Senate. We are treated like a lot of naughty school-boys, and when we meekly beg leave 'to speak out in meetin'' we are practically told to shut up and sit down. The new comer is the victim of much quiet hazing on the part of his colleagues,--ably aided and abetted by the Speaker,--but he soon learns the ropes, and quickly effaces himself. He reserves his babble for the cloak-room and hotel lobby; yet, to many of his constituents, he is still a great man. There is no sadder sight in the world than the newly-fledged Congressman in the throes of his maiden speech, delivered to a half-filled House, busily reading the papers, talking, writing, or absorbed in thought. An official stenographer, right under his nose, wearily jots down the effort, and the real audience consists of a few bored friends in the galleries who smile uneasily now and then, and wonder what it is all about, and how long the blamed thing is going to last. Anyway, he gets it in the Record for free distribution to thousands of constituents, who read it, perhaps, and try to imagine why 'Applause' is tagged on to the finish."
"A gloomy picture, but not overdrawn," sighed one of the Kentucky delegation. "Here's looking at you, Holloway," he added, more cheerfully, "here's looking at you."

III
COLONEL MANYSNIFTERS--AN OUTING WITH THE "JEWELS"
Colonel Manysnifters, who had been quietly smoking a little apart from the group, now drew up and joined us. He had been imbibing rather freely since we left the station, but with the exception of a somewhat suspicious silence, had shown no further effects of his efforts in behalf of the Whiskey Trust. The Colonel's resemblance to Uncle Sam (as popularly portrayed) was so striking that children taken to the Capitol for the first time would shout with glee when he was pointed out to them. Rural visitors went home satisfied that the country was safe--they had seen Uncle Sam on hand, sober, and 'tending to business!' A friend once said to him, "Manysnifters, you look so much like Uncle Sam that whenever I see you on a jag I feel like this great nation of ours is going to hell!"
Georgia is the Colonel's native State, and he is proud of it, but I imagine that some recent legislation down there has greatly upset him. He looked rather downcast when I last saw him, and refused nourishment either in solid or liquid form. And then he said, eyeing me solemnly, "'Times is right porely down our way, boss. Things don't lap. De chinquapin crap done gin out 'fore de simmons is ripe!' Now, boy, don't ask me how things are going in my State. You know as much about it as I do. Let the old man alone, won't you?" and