Now, if my dream had been true, and we had borrowed that $1,800 from the county treasurer at only two per cent., instid of the banker at seven per cent., our semi-annual interest would a bin only $18 instid of $63. With $63, then, we could have paid the $18 interest to the county and $45 on the mortgage—and that would be encouragin. I wonder when the Dimicratic, or Republican party either, or both, will begin to do somethin to make it easy for people to buy homes, and pay for them, by makin it easy for people to borrow money when they need it, by reducin interest and taxes and sich. Every election since Jobe and me was married, fust one party and then the other has been promisin to do somethin to help the people git along in the world, but I declare to goodness I have nearly got discouraged waitin for them to do it. They seem to be so forgetful arter election. I guess they are kept so busy legislatin and makin laws to help the rich that they jist dont have time to do anything for the poor. By the time the law-makers git all the laws that the railroad-owners and street-car companies and bridge companies and bankers and bondholders and monopolists and other milionairs want, they haint got any time to look arter the farmers and mechanics and merchants and mill-hands and coal miners and sich; so they jist let the people’s bizness go, until the next election, to make promises on. And as the voters seem willin to wait, jist so they git to vote the strait ticket, I guess I will have to do so too. [Illustration] CHAPTER XXV. JOBE EXCITED OVER A NOMINATION. THIS mornin while I was settin a churnin and thinkin, thinkin how high the monopoly men and the money-lenders and the officeholders live, and how low the farmers and mechanics and day laborers live, and wonderin why some live high and some low, Jobe come a stormin in at the kitchen door, so suddint like that it skeert me. Says he: “Betsy, give me my overhalls, quick, and put up that churnin and come out and help me build a higher fence around the medder.” And while he was a sayin it he was a jerkin skirts and pettycoats and sich like down from the nails in the wall onto the floor, a huntin them overhalls. “Why, Jobe,” says I, “what on airth is the matter? What do you want more fence around the medder for?” “To save the grass, Betsy, to save the grass,” says he. “What would you suppose Ide want more fence around the medder for? Hurry up, quit that churnin and git me them overhalls, or he will have half the grass stomped out before we git a rail up.” I stopped churnin, and, lookin him strait in the face, says I: “Jobe Gaskins, are you crazy? What are you talkin about anyhow?” [Illustration: “A huntin them overhalls.”]