"The women ought to have the vote," he affirmed. "Look what we owe to the women. A man gets 75 per cent. of what goodness there is in him from his mother, and he owes at least 40 per cent. of all he makes to his wife. Yes, some men owe more than that. Some of 'em owe 100 per cent. to their wives." Ethics and morality seem to be favorite topics with the old man, and he makes free with quotations from the Bible and from Shakespeare in substantiation of his opinions. "City people," I heard him say to some other visitors who came while we were there, "think that we folks who live on farms haven't got no sense. Well, we may not know much, but what we do know we know darn well. We farmers _feed_ all these smart folks in the cities, so they ought to give us credit for knowing _some_thing." He can be dry and waggish as he shows himself off to those who come and pay their fifty cents. It was amusing to watch him and listen to him. Sometimes he sounded like an old parson, but his air of piety sat upon him grotesquely as one reflected on his earlier career. A prelate with his hat cocked rakishly over one ear could have seemed hardly more incongruous. [Illustration: It was Frank James.... He looks more like a prosperous farmer or the president of a rural bank than like a bandit. In his manner there is a strong note of the showman] At some of his virtuous platitudes it was hard not to smile. All the time I was there I kept thinking how like he was to some character of Gilbert's. All that is needed to make Frank James complete is some lyrics and some music by Sir Arthur Sullivan. * * * * * There are almost as many stories of the James Boys and their gang to be heard in Excelsior Springs as there are houses in the town. But as Frank James will not commit himself, it is next to impossible to verify them. However, I shall give a sample. I was told that Frank and Jesse James were riding along a country road with another member of the gang, and that, coming to a farmhouse shortly after noon, they stopped and asked the woman living there if she could give them "dinner"--as the midday meal is called in Kansas and Missouri. The woman said she could. They dismounted and entered. Then, as they sat in the kitchen watching her making the meal ready, Jesse noticed that tears kept coming to her eyes. Finally he asked her if anything was wrong. At that she broke down completely, informing him that she was a widow, that her farm was mortgaged for several hundred dollars, and that the man who held the mortgage was coming out that afternoon to collect. She had not the money to pay him and expected to lose her property. "That's nothing to cry about," said Jesse. "Here's the money." To the woman, who had not the least idea who the men were, their visit must have seemed like one from angels. She took the money, thanking them profusely, and, after having fed them well, saw them ride away.