THE DECISION.
THAT day, when the judge and lawyers got back from dinner, and arter
Jobe and me had eat our lunch in the jury-room, they opened court agin,
and the judge, lookin at me tired like, says:
“Mrs. Gaskins, the court is now ready to proceed with the case.”
“So be we, Mistur Judge,” says I.
So Congressman Richer’s lawyer got out a lot of papers and notes, and,
showin them to Jobe and me, asked us if we admitted signin of them.
“Certainly we do,” says I.
So he handed them to the judge, sayin that that was all the evidence he
desired to produce, and as the notes had not been paid, as stipulated in
the mortgage, he asked to have the mortgage foreclosed and the property
sold, and judgment for costs rendered agin the defendant.
At that he sot down.
Jobe he looked distressed.
I felt kind a gone like.
But when the judge said that if we had any evidence to produce or
objection to make why the mortgage should not be foreclosed, now was my
time to make it, I jist gathered up courage and says, says I:
“Mistur Judge, we have some evidence to offer, and I want to say a few
words.
“We never denied that we signed that mortgage and them notes; we never
claimed we had paid all we did sign.
[Illustration: “‘I want to prove to you, Mistur Judge.’”]
“Now, what I want to prove, Mistur Judge, is, that the reason we haint
paid more of the notes was because times have been so hard, prices so
low and money so scarce that we jist couldent pay any more than we have
paid.
“I want to prove that we have paid every dollar we could pay, and that
we have went naked and hungry, or nearly so, to pay what we have paid.
“I want to prove, Mistur Judge, that when we bought this farm, some
sixteen years ago, times were better than now; that farmers could sell
what they raised for more than now; and I want to prove that it has not
been by any act of the farmers that times have been made harder and
prices lower than then.
“I want to prove, Mistur Judge, that taxes haint got any less; that
interest is jist as high as then; that it takes twice as many bushels of
wheat for Jobe to pay his share of your wages, and the wages of the
other officers in this buildin, as it did then. I want to prove that
Jobe had to use wheat to pay you fellers that he could have used toward
payin on them notes if prices had staid up or officers’ pay had been
brought down.
“I want to show you that all you officeholders have helped to bring
about this condition by your endorsin of men that made laws to destroy
the greenback, to demonitize silver, encouragin high interest and money
monopoly, and by your increasin of wages of officeholders or lettin them
remain the same as they were when wheat was high.
“I want to prove, Mistur Judge, that Mr. Richer was one of the
law-makers, that he voted agin silver, and did not try to do anything or
to make any law to make money as plenty as it use to be.
“I want to show that Mr. Richer already has got all we have raised by
our hard work for the last sixteen years, and, Mistur Judge, I think
that instid of you sellin our farm to satisfy him, you ort to order him
to give us back all the money we have paid him, except the interest, and
let us give him back the property we got from him; we are willin to do
this, and give him our improvements besides, if he will give us back our
$1,700. This is all we ask, Mistur Judge.
“If you grant it we would have a few dollars to keep us in our old age,
and Mr. Richer would have all we got from him and $2,212 interest money
besides.
“If you foreclose us, as this high-toned lawyer asks you to do, we will
have nothing left, and Mr. Richer will have as much as he had before and
$3,912 of our hard-earned money besides, part of it, Mistur Judge, bein
money I got from home when father died.”
The judge kind a looked at me pityin like, and says, says he:
“Mrs. Gaskins, your argament may be all right from your point of view;
but it is not law, Mrs. Gaskins. _It is not law._ We must proceed
according to law.”
“What is law?” says I. “Haint it justice?” pleadin like.
The judge studied a minit, cleared his throat a time or two, and then
says he:
“It is supposed to be, Mrs. Gaskins. _It is supposed to be._ It should
be justice; it should be. I appreciate the position of you two old
people. I believe, as you say, that you have worked hard and saved that
you might get your farm paid for and have a home in your old age. I
believe you have done all you could do. Your argament has been well
made.
[Illustration: “‘This is the law, whether it is justice or not.’”]
“But the law—the law, Mrs. Gaskins, says that if these notes have not
been paid according to the provision of the mortgage, it can be
foreclosed.
“Even if you had paid all of the notes but one dollar, and had worked
fifty years to pay them, and for some reason money had become scarce,
and your farm under forced sale would not bring more than the one
dollar, it would have to be sold, under the law, to satisfy that one
dollar still due on it.
“To make it plainer to you, Mrs. Gaskins, suppose that all the money was
demonitized or destroyed except gold or silver (no matter which), and
suppose that one man had succeeded in getting possession of all the
money, and you owed one dollar on a farm that had cost you $3,800, you
would have to get that one dollar from the man who had it, and he could
place his own estimate of value on it, and could, if he so desired,
demand 120 acres of good farm land for one of his dollars, and, in case
of forced sale under the law, all the property you have would have to be
sacrificed to satisfy that one dollar. It would have to be done, even
though that one man who had all the money cornered owned your mortgage
and had made the law, or got it made, that destroyed all the other
money. So this, Mrs. Gaskins, is the law, whether it is justice or not,
and I, as the judge of this court, must be governed by the law as it is.
All the testimony you have mentioned is not such as could be admitted
before this court. Hence I shall render judgment as prayed for by the
plaintiff, with costs of this action attached.”
[Illustration: “Jobe and me sot there dazed like.”]
I wanted to say some more, but the judge told me the case was over, and
that I need not say any more.
So Jobe and me sot there dazed like for a little while. Then the sheriff
come to us and said the case was over and we had better go home. We got
up and come home.
We have been over the dear old farm half a dozen times, so as to carry
its memory in our minds to wherever we shall go. Oh! how queer I feel
when I wonder where that will be.
Jobe is jist a mopin around with no life in him at all.
I haint heerd him holler for McKinley since we got back from court.
I wonder if Mr. McKinley, and Mark Hanna, and Henry Flagler, of the
Standard Oil Trust, and Mr. Kohlsaat, and them other millionairs what
has been down in Georgia schemin and plannin and arrangin to git Mr.
McKinley elected to the president’s office, want to git him elected so
as to make it easier for Jobe and his likes to pay for their homes.
I wonder if the laws they are wantin to git made, or keep from bein
made, is to make themselves richer or to make the life of the fellers
who vote the ticket they fix up easier.
Them millionair fellers seem to take a great interest in elections and
things.