It's been two months since your trip to Indianapolis. You've been eagerly waiting for this day ever since then, and now, on November 29th, you're going to get to vote in your first election. This is something you've always looked forward to--once you've voted, you'll be able to sit with the other men and join in one of Clark's Hill's favorite pastimes: talking about politics. In a way, it'll be like becoming a man.

Everyone in Lauramie Township will be voting in the same place this year, the schoolhouse here in Clark's Hill. You're grateful you don't have to go as far as Blaine or Haretown: you only live five miles away. As you step out of the house with your brother and father to begin the walk to the school, you are struck by the caravan of people making its way down the road that runs through your property. On one passing wagon, you can see what looks like barrels of cider or beer, and on another, what appears to be a folded up tent. It looks like the election's going to be a spectacle, maybe with a party afterwards!

The school is a few miles out of the town proper, and so it's been years since you were last here, even though you live so close. It's just far away enough from anywhere of consequence that you simply haven't had need to. It's much the same as you remembered it, except that there were never hordes of shouting people, party men hawking tickets, women pouring cider, or men lounging in the sun and arguing lazily back when you went to school here. The sight of it all is sort of daunting...you realize that you have no idea what to do! Is the vote counted by hands? Do you have to go talk to somebody?

"Nat!" A voice breaks your reverie, and you turn to see Mr. Haney, your old schoolmaster. "Nat, good to see you! This'll be your first election, won't it?"

"Yessir, Mr. Haney, it is."

"Now, Nat, you don't need to call me 'Mister,' like you're still in school! Now you're a voting man, you can call me Ira, like everyone else!"

"Alright, Ira." It feels good to call your old teacher by his first name. It feels even better to be acknowledged as an equal. "Say, I was wondering...I've never done this before, and I was hoping..."

"Don't know what to do, eh? Well, I guess that's natural if it's your first time. It's really pretty easy. Once you've done it once, it only takes five minutes to ever do again. Then you can sit around with us old men and drink beer and play cards all day." He grins. You suspect that Mrs. Haney believes voting to be a complicated, day-long practice, and you also suspect that Mr. Haney does nothing to correct this misunderstanding. Mr. Haney takes off his hat and points toward the school. "The ballot box is in there, in the school. They call it a ballot box, but we don't use written ballots, we use printed tickets. The tickets are just colored slips with party insignia printed on them. That way, a man doesn't even need to be literate to be able to vote. All he has to do is be able to recognize a donkey or an elephant." He polishes his glasses and frowns. "Shameful, really, the number of farmers around here who still can't read..."

This is the schoolmaster in him. You've heard this talk before, and know that once he starts, he goes on for a while. Quickly, you move to cut him off. "Where do you get the tickets from, Ira?"

"From the party men. Each party sends a representative to every voting place to give out the tickets. Since Lauramie Township isn't the size of Indianapolis, or Lafayette, we don't usually get independant party reps out here. The Republican man is Sam Watkins, and he's the fellow standing over there." Ira points to a raw-boned man standing under a nearby sycamore tree. You see every man who comes up to the schoolhouse first comes to him, and then walks into the schoolhouse. That's not unexpected. You don't know many men in town who have ever voted Democrat, and those you do know did so prior to the Civil War. "The Democrat man is Del Preston; he's that man over there." You look and see a palid man, standing by himself next to a wagon. No one is coming up to him or taking the tickets he's proffering. "Don't know why that fellow even bothers to show up," Ira comments sardonically.

"Is that all there is to it?"

"Yes, that's just about it. Just get your ticket, put it in the box inside, and you're done." Ira puts his hat back on and makes as if to leave. "If you'll pardon me, Nat, I think it's my turn. Going to vote, collect, and then I think I'll have some cider."

Your brows furrow as you hear this. "Collect?"

Ira nods his head and grins. "Yep, Sam's paying out fifteen dollars for every Republican vote. It'll come in handy--maybe I'll use the money to buy a new desk. I'll probably need one after today. There are probably a bunch of oaf farmers scuffing it up and getting cigar burns all over it right now!" With that he turns and makes his way to the Republican representative, then up to the schoolhouse.

So that's it! Mr. Haney was right, it does seem easy. You look over towards Sam Watkins, the Republican man, and then over towards Del Preston, the Democrat. It's time for you to make up your mind! You think back to what you saw in Indianapolis, and then back to all the influences of your upbringing. Your first inclination is to vote Republican. After all, just about everyone in town is a Republican (it doesn't look from Mr. Preston's hang-dog expression as if any Democrats even bothered showing up today!), and you've been listening to Republican rhetoric all your life. On the other hand, the idea of getting paid for your vote is unsettling to you. It doesn't seem right. Perhaps you should vote Democrat! Then again, if you were going to vote Republican anyway, the fifteen dollars couldn't hurt...

What do you do?

Vote for Grover Cleveland (Democrat)

Vote for Benjamin Harrison (Republican)

Just forget the whole thing and don't vote