JOBE SLEEPS IN THE BARN.
IF Ide a knode that Ide a had to went through what Ive went through
since I last writ, I would have been a old maid longin for some one to
love, and some one to love me in return, instid of bein the tormented
wife of Jobe Gaskins, Esquire, as I am to-day.
From the time Jobe come in from the barn, the next mornin arter nearly
dyin over the _Advercate’s_ change of abuse, to this hour, the two old
parties has been on the outs; and instid of gittin better, things are
gittin wuss.
The Lord only knows what it will lead to. I dont.
That mornin, about breakfast time, he come a bouncin into the house all
of a suddent, while I was a puttin some corn cakes in the skillet, and,
shakin his fist in my face, says, says he:
“Betsy Gaskins, you’ve got to take it back. Take it back or Ile—Ile
smash you,” makin a motion towards me, and, with his hair all mussed up
and full of hay-seed, he looked dangerful.
I jist drawed back the dipper what I was puttin batter in the skillet
with, sayin:
“Jobe Gaskins, you make another move towards me, or attempt to strike
me, and Ile knock you so cold youle never vote for another Republican
office-seeker.”
I was a lookin at him all the time with the dipper drawed. He seen I
meant jist what I said; so he walked over and sot down on the edge of
the wood-box. Continerin, says I:
[Illustration: “‘JOBE GASKINS, YOU MAKE ANOTHER MOVE!’”]
“You are a purty-lookin feller, haint you? Thats as much sense as you
and your likes has got. You would strike down the pardner of your life
rather than listen to the truth about the rascality of the men who run
your party.”
I had the dipper drawed all the time, and had stepped nearer to him.
“Betsy,” says he, pleadin like, “tell jist one dishonest thing a
Republican officer ever done.”
Says I: “Now, Jobe, you are actin with sense. Where do you want me to
begin, at the top among the big ones, or at the bottom among the little
ones?”
“Begin at the bottom, Betsy, at the bottom,” says he.
“Well, Jobe,” says I, “you listen, and I will keep at the cakes or they
will burn.”
Thinkin a minit, says I:
“Fust, there is the county commissioners.”
“Hold!” says Jobe, jumpin to his feet, “dont lets go into that
commissioner bizness——”
I turned right square in front of him, and drawin the dipper, says I:
“Now, sir, you set down, and set there till I tell you to git up.”
Jobe sot down.
Says I agin:
“Fust, there is the county commissioners and the bridges——”
“Betsy——” says Jobe, conquered like.
“Jobe!” says I, and I looked a look at him that made him drop his head.
Then proceedin agin, says I:
“Fust, there is the county commissioners, the bridges and iron tubes.”
Jobe flipped his thumb and fingers, and held up his hand like they do in
school.
Says I: “Whats you want?” cross like.
“Betsy, if you are a goin into that bridge bizness, with them iron tubes
and all, I would like to have my say as well as you,” says he.
“That depends,” says I. “If you act with sense and dont git mad, you can
have your say. If you flare up Ile silence you, sir.”
“Are you mad, Betsy?” says he, cowed like.
“No, Ime not mad. Ime in airnest,” says I, takin up the cakes and settin
them on the table. Then I sot down in a chair in front of Jobe, still
holdin the dipper. Says I:
“Now, Jobe, who is agent for a iron bridge company in this county but a
Republican county commissioner?
“Who went over into a adjoining county and offered to sell a iron bridge
for several dollars per foot less than he charged his own county for the
same kind of a bridge? Who done this but a Republican county
commissioner?
“Who let a contract for stone butments for one of the leadin bridges in
this county, and then let them put in iron tubes instid of stone
butments? Who done this but a Republican county commissioner?
“Who sold the Trenton bridge out in three sections at $999.99 a section,
so as to evade the law that says all public contracts for $1,000 or more
shall be advertised and sold to the lowest bidder? Who done this sellin
but a Republican county commissioner?
“Who gits a commission on all the bridges the taxpayers are a payin for,
but a Republican county commissioner?
“Who has tore down good bridges jist to git to sell a new bridge to this
county, but a Republican county commissioner?
“Who is it but Republican county commissioners that dont care how high
taxes are so they git their commission for sellin bridges?
[Illustration: “‘Are you mad, Betsy?’ says he.”]
“Who but a Republican county commissioner refused to allow the expense
necessary to collect the $65,000 back taxes, Beriar Wilk——?”
“Hold! Hold!” cried Jobe, jumpin to his feet. “Wilkins was a Dimicrat!
Wilkins was a Dimicrat! A leadin Dimicrat, and you know it! And more,
Betsy Gaskins, when you say that nobody was mixed up in that bridge
bizness but a Republican county commissioner, you _lie_, and——”
I dident let him finish. I couldent. I was teched. I jist grabbed the
mop-stick that was standin near, and struck at him with all my might as
he went out at the door. I follered him clear to the fence, strikin at
him as he went; and jist as he was crossin the fence I broke that
mop-stick (that cost me thirteen cents) on them election patches.
So my heart is heavier than it has been since I become the lawful wife
of Jobe Gaskins.
The idea of him a tellin me that I _lie_, this late in our lives! It is
awful! It teched me to the quick! Well, Jobe Gaskins got no breakfast
that day, and I was so worked up that I couldent eat much.
That nite Jobe slept in the barn agin, comin in some time between dark
and daylite to get what vittles was cooked.
He stayed out around the barn for three days and nites, only comin in
arter I had gone to bed, to git what he needed to eat. I dont know how
long he would have kept it up if it hadent got cold Thursday arternoon
and evenin. That evenin he froze out, and came up to the fence and
hollered:
“Hello!”
I went to the door, and says:
“Hello, sir! What you want?”
“Betsy,” says he, “I would like for you to let me come in and lay by the
cookin stove to-nite.”
Says I: “If you wasent so set in your ways and insultin, you could a
been sleepin in your usual place, by my side, all these nites. Come in,”
says I, “and keep your mouth shet, and all will be well.”
He come in, and I set him a good warm supper. He eat three bowlsful of
corn mush, and drunk two big cups of hot coffee.
Now, I intend to git all the names and facts about that bridge bizness,
and that Beriar Wilkins back tax bizness, and them commissioners, and
Ile convince Jobe that all his high-toned Republican officeholders are
arter is the chance to get rich off from the people’s money. Ile do it
if it costs me a divorce suit to do it.
That nite Jobe went to bed fust. When I went in I found that he had got
in with his head to the foot. He thought it would spite me, I spose. But
it dident. I laffed and jist stood there and looked at him, and while I
was a lookin I couldent help thinkin how much he represented his party
on the money question. You know how they use to claim that they was the
party what believed in lots of greenback money, and how they pinted with
pride to the great amount of greenbacks they had given the people to do
bizness with. Now they are turned end about, jist like Jobe. Now they
claim they are for “gold only,” that “lots of greenbacks haint good for
the people.” They are a sayin now agin silver and paper money jist what
Vallandingham and his likes said about greenbacks. But then this is
about the top fellers. So I wont discuss this any more until I git the
facts about them bottom fellers—about the county commissioners and
auditor and prosecutin attorney and Beriar Wilkins, and lots of sich
things that is done and bein done all over this country. Ile git enough
to drive Jobe clear under the bed, if I can hold him down to listen to
it.
Jobe says he is a goin to git the facts agin the Dimicrats if he has to
subscribe for every Republican noosepaper in the county. Now I dont
think he need to go to all that expense, because so fur as I can see
they are all alike and run for the same purpose—for the purpose of
keepin the Republican voters in line.