A North Dakota editor writes, “The politician is my shepherd, I shall not want for anything during the campaign. He leadeth me into the saloon for my vote’s sake. He filleth my pocket with good cigars and my beer glass runneth over. He enquireth concerning my family even unto the fourth generation. Yea, though I walk through the mud and the rain to vote for him, and shout myself hoarse when he is elected, he straightway forgetteth me. Yea, though I meet him in his own office, he knoweth me not. Surely the wool has been pulled over my eyes all the days of my life.” (Reprinted with permission from the Alden Advance).

Things haven’t changed much, have they?

 

Elaine Larson

Alden