“Every Republican officeholder in this county seems to exist for no other purpose than to suck the life-blood out of our hard-working tax-payers. We must turn the rascals out.” [Illustration: “‘IT IS ALL OVER, BETSY,’ SAYS HE.”] And so on and so on, clear through the paper. Jobe he read a minit or so; then looked at the name of the paper; then read another item; looked at the top of his paper agin; took off his specks; rubbed them hard; put them on and read, or started to read, another item; laid the paper down; got up and went to the lookin glass; stuck out his tongue and shook his head in a troubled manner; then he felt his pulse, shook his head agin and fell over on the lounge that was near him. He groaned once or twice, then hollered, “Betsy, Betsy!” dyin like. I went a hurryin in. There he laid as white as a ghost, and drawin short, quick breaths. “Why, Jobe, dear,” says I, pleadin like, “what on airth is the matter?” “It is all over, Betsy,” says he, “all over; Ime a goin to die. The end is near. Betsy, Ive tried to be a good husband, but at times I know Ive been a little cross and contrary. Betsy, I want to hear you say you forgive me before I go.” “Why, Jobe,” says I, “what in the world is the matter?” “Oh, Betsy,” says he, “the end is near. I know it is. Editure McIlvaine is changed, or my mind is shattered. My mind is so onbalanced that I can no longer read my paper and understand it, or the leopard has changed his spots. Betsy, its me. It must be me, for where my paper has been praisin, it is now abusin; and where it has been abusin, it is now praisin. Betsy, I want to die. I want to die a believin that its me and not the _Advercate_ that has changed. You must do the best you can, Betsy; and if you marry agin arter Ime gone, remember my last wish is that you do not marry one of them wild Populists. Betsy, will you promis?” says he. At that I began to laf out loud, as hard as I could laf. “Oh my! oh my!” says Jobe. “Is my wife crazy or do my eyes deceive me agin?” I took holt of him and jerked him off the lounge, sayin: “Here! git up and have some sense. That is all the truth you read in your paper to-nite. The office-seekers of both parties are corrupt, and if the papers were honest they would say so. Neither of them dare tell how the people have been betrayed, and so they fill up their columns with abusin the party they dont happen to belong to.” [Illustration: “That nite he slept in the barn.”] Then I explained what I had done, and he jumped to his feet and swore awfully. That nite he slept in the barn, and for the second time in her married life Betsy Gaskins slept alone. Jobe is still critical and sleepin in the barn. CHAPTER XVII. JOBE SLEEPS IN THE BARN.