If it ever happens that all the people who have suffered from the hard times that bad laws have brought them go to flockin together, and votin for common, decent people to make our laws, there will be a weepin and a wailin among the high-toned rulin class. The people will quit bein led around with a ring in their nose by the polerticians and officeseekers jist like Dave Syke’s Durham bull. But so long as one Dimicratic convention declares for gold and the other for silver, I suppose Ile have to try to hold my bloomers together. Well, Jobe he come back last Saturday. He had been gone for two weeks. When I seen him a comin up the lane, I jist felt like I use to when I was a girl. He dident say a word about my bloomers, but seemed pleased like to see me. Before he got up to the porch he says: “Hello, Betsy!” and when he got to me he shook hands and kissed me (the fust time for nigh onto twenty years)—yes, sir, kissed me, and me in bloomers—Dimicratic bloomers!—and him a Republican. Somehow it seems the Republicans do like us Dimicrats better than they use to. Maybe its because we all hate them Populists so. [Illustration: “I seen him a comin up the lane.”] Well, arter Jobe had come in and got his supper and I got my work done up, we went into the front room and sot down; sot down to have a talk—to court like. I had to begin the talkin. Says I: “Jobe, where have you been for so long?” “Well, Betsy,” says he, “Ive been around over the country learnin all I could about them Populists. Do you know, Betsy, that them Populists are jist made up of a lot of farmers, and school teachers, and doctors, and store-keepers, and railroad hands, and mill-workers, and coal-miners, and carpenters, and stonemasons, and day laborers and sich? Do you know that the lawyers, and judges, and officeholders, and bondholders, and polerticians, and monopolists, and bankers, and railroad officials, and coal operators, and in fact nearly all the fust, high-toned and leadin citizens of our country—all them that dont work for a livin—them what are smart enough to live without workin—all sich, they dont belong to them at all.” Says I: “Is that so?” “Yes,” says he, “it is. And now, Betsy, what do them Populists expect to do? Do they expect to elect farmers, and school teachers, and merchants, and mechanics, and men what work for a livin, as officers? “Do they expect to have men what haint got any more sense than to work for a livin to make our laws? “Do you think farmers have sense enough to know what laws farmers need? “Do you suppose school teachers has sense enough to know anything about schools? “Does merchants know anything about the store-keepin bizness? “Do you suppose mechanics and mill-men and miners know anything about laborin? No. These men what do all these things dont know anything about the things they do.