[244]
Saucy Second!
Never a Loco has a look here!
Our friends are united, and have done their work, though making no noise about it. We count on 400 for Smith.
Gallant Third!
You are wanted for the full amount!
Things are altogether too sleepy here.
Why won't somebody run stump, or get up a volunteer ticket?
We see that the Loco-Foco Collector has Whig ballots printed with his name on them! This ought to arouse all the friends of the clean Whig Ticket.
Come out, Whigs of the Third!
and pile up 700 majority for Robert Smith!
One less is unworthy of you; and you can give more if you try. But let it go at 700.
...
Bloody Sixth!
We won't tell all we hope from this ward, but we know Ald. Crolius is popular, as is Owen W. Brennan, our Collector, and we feel quite sure of their election.
We know that yesterday the Locos were afraid Shaler would decline, as they said his friends would vote for Crolius rather than Emmons, who is rather too well known. We concede 300 majority to Morris, but our friends can reduce it to 200 if they work right.
...
Empire Eighth!
shall your faithful Gedney be defeated?
Has he not deserved better at your hands?
And sweet, too, he was foully cheated out of his election last year by Loco-Foco fire companies brought in from the Fifteenth, and prisoners imported from Blackwell's Island. Eighteen of them in one house!
You owe it to your candiates to elect them—you owe it still more to yourselves—and yet your Collector quarrel makes us doubt a little.
Whigs of the Eighth!
resolve to carry your Alderman and you will!
Any how, Robert Smith will have a majority—we'll state it moderately at 200.
...
Blooming Twelfth!
The Country Ward is steadily improving, politically as well as physically.
The Whigs run their popular Alderman of last year; the Locos have made a most unpopular Ticket, which was only forced down the throats of many by virtue of the bludgeon.
Heads were cracked like walnuts the night the ticket was agreed to. We say 50 for Smith, and the clean Whig ticket.
...
Whigs of New York!
The day is yours if you will!
But if you skulk to your chimney corners and let such a man as Robert Smith be beaten by Robert H. Morris, you will deserve to be cheated, plundered and trampled on as you have been.
But, No!
You will not!
On for Smith and victory!
We now turn over, with necessary rapidity, the pages of the third and fourth volumes of the Tribune, pausing, here and there, when something of interest respecting its editor catches our eye.
