“THEM POPULISTS.”
IME in trouble. Them Dimicratic bloomers seem bound to split asunder, or
worse. Some days there is only a stitch or two breaks out; other days
they rip half the length of my arm.
Every time I think of the high interest we are payin and have been a
payin for these many years, of the number of times we have changed
officers from Dimicrats to Republicans, then from Republicans to
Dimicrats, back and forth, time and agin, without any change except for
the worse—every time that I think in all these years not one Dimicrat or
Republican officeseeker or polertician has riz up in Congress and
demanded that the law that permits interest and foreclosin and sich be
abolished, a stitch or two lets go. Yes, neither Dimicrat or Republican
has ever proposed to abolish interest or in any way make it easier for
the hard-workin poor people to git homes and pay for them. And the more
I think of what they did do that they oughtent a done, and what they
haint done that they ort a done, the more I wonder that there are enough
men left of either of them, or, for that matter, of both, to hold a
county convention.
But then I spose its because they are born that way.
But talkin of my gold and silver bloomers, nothin seems to strain them
so much or make as long rips in them as a listenin to them Populists
explainin Coxey’s “Good Roads Bill” and them bonds what wont draw any
interest. When I see in my mind people a needin work and a gittin
it—when I can see how under that law Jobe wouldent have to spend time a
borrowin tax-money, but could work for it, them bloomers keep a gittin
more obstreperous all the time.
The other nite at our school-house they jist kept a rippin and a rippin
as speaker arter speaker went on a showin us what we haint got that we
ort to have; showin us how we had been a throwin our votes away for
these thirty years or more; showin us how that votin for officeseekers
and polerticians and votin for good laws and good government was two
different things; showin us that while Jobe and his likes has been a
doin the votin, the officeseekers and polerticians has been a makin the
laws that takes from us in taxes and interest what we raise, and that it
seems that we are willin to submit just so long as they will let us keep
on a votin for them.
I tell you its a goin to take a good deal of Brice’s senatorial soin
thread to hold these bloomers together until election day; and arter
election, sooner or later, I know they will split. That white leg side
hates the black leg side worse nor pisen, and here and there all over
the white leg I notice strange-lookin spots the same color as the
clothes them Populists wear. And the spots are a growin and I fear there
will be no bloomer bizness when them spots are big enough to rule that
leg.
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.
“We want lawyers, and bankers, and railroad owners, and monopolists, and
speculators, and bondholders, and mine-owners and sich as our
law-makers. These are the fellers what know all about farmin and
teachin, and sellin goods, and diggin coal, and buildin houses, and
workin mills, and makin things. Yes, Betsy, the fellers what do them
things haint got sense enough to know anything about the things they do.
Its the fellers what dont do them that knows all about them.
[Illustration: “THE FUST TIME FOR NIGH ONTO TWENTY YEARS.”]
“Now, Betsy, this bein the case, if you are a goin to wear bloomers, I
want you to color that white leg black and work for the strait ticket,
so, if the Dimicrats git in, we will have the same kind of men to make
our laws as we would have if the Republicans git in. We must unite agin
them Populists, Betsy, or the fust thing we know they will be a gittin
in and passin them laws what Coxey is wantin passed, and then people
what work for a livin will go to askin $1.50 a day—and a gittin it. I
repeat it, Betsy, we must unite.”
I was silent.
Jobe, continerin, says:
“Betsy, think over this and lets us two old parties hereafter live in
peace and unite our efforts in keepin things jist as they are, and not
go to complainin of hard times of our own makin.”
It bein late, and not wishin to git into a argament with Jobe so soon
arter his return to my boozum, I retired in silence, but I cant jist say
that I swaller all of Jobe’s logic without peelin.
I think I shall defer the colorin of that white leg for a few days,
until we have discussed the subject further, and until I have obtained
the full consent of the white leg side to the colorin act, remainin for
the time ondecidedly yourn.