impotent wrath of the anti-Tammany mayor, and after two years of fostering care by friend Hill turn up as good as new and get back all it had before. Such was the calculation, and it was excellent. The Tammany mind is eminently practical.
But would friend Hill be willing to accept the nomination for the governorship? Hardly. Comfortably ensconced for several years in the Senate, he would not like to take unnecessary risks. If asked beforehand, he would refuse. Tammany therefore resolved to nominate without asking, and the game succeeded. It is universally known, and not contradicted, that the stampede in the Democratic State convention, which thrust the nomination upon Hill, was planned and managed by Tammany, and that Hill had been nominated and virtually accepted and found himself harnessed to the Tammany cart ere he had time to rub his eyes. That so sly a fox should be caught by surprise may seem ludicrous. But it is more than a joke. It is the revenge of fate; it is the sin of the evil-doer coming home to roost; it is the devil claiming his own. So often had Hill ridden into place and power on the backs of Tammany and the State machine that Tammany and its allies have a right to jump upon his back and say: “Now we will ride you for our salvation! We have done your work; now you will do ours!” All this is perfectly fit and proper. Hill and Tammany are bound together by natural ties. They are of one flesh and blood. Their principles are the same, their methods the same, their aims the same and they know, as Benjamin Franklin once said, that they will have to hang together, or they will hang separately. As Tammany has always fought Hill's battles, so Hill now fights the battles of Tammany.
Can any sane man doubt it? What does it mean when the Tammany Mayor Gilroy never grows tired of protesting: “The State ticket is paramount! Never mind the
