holding machinery was set in motion for him all over the land. I know of no instance in the history of this country when the local caucuses and conventions in towns, districts and States, which had to elect delegates to the National Convention, were so largely and so ruthlessly invaded by postmasters and revenue officers and district attorneys and marshals, as they were this year in favor of President Harrison. Every Cabinet officer was expected to do his utmost, and to present to the President the delegation from his State with his compliments.
Still, this array of official influence would probably not have sufficed to secure Mr. Harrison's renomination, had some Republican statesman of high character and influence openly taken the field as a competitor. Mr. Harrison was lucky. The leadership of the opposition to him was usurped by some of the most disreputable machine politicians in the country, and they put forward as their candidate a man who, aside from other grave objections, could hardly have accepted the nomination without a breach of faith. Against this crowd Mr. Harrison's force in the National Convention appeared very respectable—which was not difficult—and his nomination looked like the victory of the conservative and decent element of his party over a lot of despicable freebooters.
But it is nevertheless true that Mr. Harrison's majority in the Minneapolis Convention had been got together by the most unsparing exertion of official influence in the election of delegates; that it consisted, with not very many exceptions, of officeholders and of delegates elected by officeholders; that our Consul-General in London, known as an adroit political manager, was summoned from his post of duty to take command of the Harrison forces at Minneapolis; that a crowd of Federal officers of high position were on the spot to work under him and to win votes for their chief; and that as the case of Crum of South
