Now, when Jake brought them papers, I happened to pick up the _Advercate_ (a thing I seldom do), and one of the fust things I read was a article a praisin Mr. Cleveland for workin to git a “gold basis” and “gold mortgages” and sich. I was so surprised to find a word of praise for a Dimicrat president in a Republican noosepaper that I looked twice at the headin to make sure it was the _Advercate_ I had instid of the _Dimicrat_. Sure enough it was the _Advercate_, but I dont want you to blame Editure McIlvaine for sich a article appearin in his paper. He couldent help it. It was in that part of his paper that he dont print. It was in the patent part what is printed in Cleveland—the part, you know, which them fellers down east, the fellers what gits rich by havin on this gold basis bizness, pays to have in all papers, Dimicrat, Republican, Methodist, Prisbyterian or any other kind except them howlin Populist papers. Them Populists seem to be so sot agin that “gold basis,” and a “contractin of the money to make it scarce and hard to git,” that they wont put anything a favorin the “gold basis” in their papers for love or money. They are jist that mean. So I dont want you to blame Mr. McIlvaine or any other feller for sich articles a bein in their papers. They cant help it. They jist have to do it or lose their rich money-lendin friends. But the feelin I felt when I seed sich a article in a Republican noosepaper prompted me to do the thing that, as I said afore, nearly made me a weepin widder. I jist thought Ide have some fun with Jobe. So I went to work and cut the headin off from last week’s _Tuscarawas Advercate_ and pasted it over the headin of this week’s _Ohio Dimicrat_. Then I cut the headin out of last week’s _Ohio Dimicrat_ and pasted it on this week’s _Advercate_. I then folded the papers up nice like and laid them on the table in the settin-room, where I had laid them week arter week for near onto fifteen years. [Illustration: “So I went to work and cut out the headin.”] Arter supper, when Jobe had his chores all done up, he says, as he come in from the barn: “Betsy, has the mail come?” A question that he has asked about that hour, on that same day of the week, fifty-two times a year for these many years. The mail alluded to meanin the _Tuscarawas Advercate_. I told Jobe, as usual, that it was in on the table. He took his specks down off the kitchen mantel, and, wipin them as he went on the corner of his coat tail, approached the table. He sot down, rared back in his split-bottom rockin cheer, put his feet on another, then picked up the _Ohio Dimicrat_ (with its name changed), and begin to read, as he expected, Editure McIlvaine’s slaughter of Dimocracy. It started out with: “There never was a more corrupt gang in control of any State government than the Republican boodlers at Columbus.” Then: