ANOTHER LETTER FROM RICHER.
JOBE went to the election Monday and voted her strait. That nite I put
another patch on his pants. Ive been a doin his patchin just arter
election every year since 1873.
Jobe dont mind patches so long as the Republicans are in, but there is
no end to his kickin if the Dimicrats are in.
I cant see what difference it makes; the patchin has to be done, and
more of it, every year.
Tuesday Jobe went to town to pay his interest and hear how the election
went. He had borrowed what he lacked of Bill Gerber and will work it out
at diggin that well.
When he got to town he went strait to Jones’s bank and paid the $126
interest, then went to the post-office and got this letter:
OFFICE OF
BERIAR WILKINSON,
GENERAL SPECULATOR AND POLITICAL WIRE-PULLER.
D. M. J. RICHER, Attorney.
WASHINGTON, D. C., Mar. 29, 1895.
J. GASKINS, ESQ.:
_Dear Sir_—Your letter to hand. I must have the money. I have instructed
my attorney to begin foreclosure proceedings at once, unless the $2,100
is paid by April 10th, 1895.
Yours truly.
D. M. J. RICHER.
took Jobe’s breath. He forgot to ask who was elected. He hurried from
the post-office to the bank, to git his interest money back, hopin he
could save that much.
[Illustration: “That night I put another patch on his pants.”]
When he got into the bank and explained to Mr. Jones that he had got
that letter and that he wanted his interest money back, Banker Jones
kind a smiled and said: “You should have gone to the post-office first,
Mr. Gaskins. I cannot give you the money back _now_. That would not be
bizness, Mr. Gaskins. It would not be bizness.”
Jobe he explained to him that the reason he did not go to the
post-office fust was because he was anxious to git the interest paid,
and that was the fust thing on his mind.
“Cant help it,” says the banker.
Jobe he begged and plead for the money. Told him of our sellin Betty,
and our wheat, and corn, and sheep, and hog, and quilts, and feathers,
and chickens, and of his borrowin part of it from Bill Gerber—told him
how he had tried to borrow the money to pay it all and couldent find any
one that had it to loan; he showed him how, if we were foreclosed, we
would have nothin left at all.
Banker Jones told him it was too bad, but it couldent be helped; he
couldent give Jobe any of the interest money back.
“Bizness is bizness,” says Banker Jones, “and I have to do bizness
accordin to bizness rules.”
Jobe asked him to be merciful, and told him the Lord would bless him if
he would show mercy to them a needin mercy.
[Illustration: “He explained to Mr. Jones.”]
But Banker Jones said he was purty comfortable as it was, and when he
needed any favors from the Lord he ginerally paid “spot cash” for em; in
fact he had several blessins paid for in advance.
Then he told Jobe if he had any other bizness to attend to he had better
go and attend to it, as he was bizzy.
Poor Jobe! He jist got out and come home. He says he dont recollect how
he got home, he felt so dazed and queer. He has been droopin around all
day. He looks distrest; and, poor man, I know he is. The Lord only knows
what will become of us—I dont.
My heart has been a raisin up in my throat all day.
Every time I see anybody a comin up the road I feel faint like and
skeert. I think its the sheriff a comin to notify us that we are
foreclosed.
If Jobe had only heerd how the election went he might feel better. I
wish the Republicans got in. I wish it, though Ime a Dimicrat. I wish it
for Jobe’s sake. It might help him bear his trouble better.
Jist to think, if we had only $2,100 of all them $683,000,000 of
greenbacks that John Sherman burned up when he was in office—yes, and
put Jobe and his likes in bonds to git them to burn—I say if we had only
$2,100 of all them millions, we could pay off our mortgage and Jobe
would be happy.
If Sherman had burned less of that money, I wonder if Jobe and his likes
wouldent have more?
Do the people in the poor-house have interest, and mortgages, and
foreclosures, and taxes and sich to worry them?
I have to quit. My heart is heavy.
[Illustration]