JUDGMENT RENDERED.
THE lawsuit is over. The decidin is done, and we are foreclosed. My
heart has been so heavy and Ive been so troubled that I jist couldent
set down and write a letter with any sense to it till to-day.
You dont know how bad it makes a body feel to know the place you have
looked on and loved as home is a gittin away from you—slippin from under
you, as it were. Everything seems to change. Jobe, poor man, he jist
sets and studies.
Well, that day at court, arter dinner, the judge come in, took his seat,
ordered court opened, and says, lookin at me:
“Mrs. Gaskins, I have decided to let you argy this case.”
At that all them lawyers except Jim Patrick, the one doin the
foreclosin, got up and left the house.
When everything was ready Jim he got up and handed in the mortgage and
the notes, and stated that he would prove by those papers that last
Aprile Jobe and Betsy Gaskins executed notes and a mortgage to Mr.
Vinting, the banker, for the sum of $1,800, with interest at seven per
cent., payable semi-annually “in _gold_;” that a few days after the
interest fell due Jobe Gaskins tendered to Banker Vinting $63 in paper
money as said six months’ interest, and refused or neglected then or at
any other time to tender gold in payment of the interest as the contract
provided, and upon this evidence he would ask the court to foreclose the
mortgage and sell the premises to satisfy the claims of his client.
[Illustration: “‘I am a banker, sir, a banker.’”]
He then called Banker Vinting to the stand and had him hold up his hand
and swear.
Then he examined him as follers:
Question. “Mr. Vinting, what is your bizness?”
Answer. “I am a banker, sir, a banker.”
Q. “Did Jobe Gaskins, the defendant here, tender you the interest due on
this mortgage as the mortgage provides?”
A. “No, sir, he did not. He offered paper money—nothing but paper
money—while the mortgage and notes call for gold.”
Q. “Is this interest still due and unpaid?”
A. “It is, sir. It is.”
“You may have the witness,” says Jim.
Then I examined the banker. He looked very witherin like at me, but I
dident wither.
Q. “Mr. Vinting, what kind of money did you give for this mortgage and
notes?”
A. “Paper money, paper money.”
Q. “Then why haint paper money good enough for interest on them?”
A. “The contract says ‘gold,’ Mrs. Gaskins—it calls for gold.”
Q. “Well, haint paper money as good as gold—_now, since the election_?”
“I ’bject,” says Jim, and then he got up and argyed that my question was
leadin, &c., and the court decided that he needent answer it.
“We rest,” says Jim.
Then I got up and stated our case. Says I:
“Mr. Court, we will prove that Jobe Gaskins sold hay and corn to Billot,
the miller, to git the money, or a part of it, to pay this interest, and
took Billot’s note; that when the time come to pay it Billot offered to
pay it in paper money; that Jobe refused to take it, jist as the banker
refused; that Jobe sued Billot before Squire Reed for the amount ‘in
gold;’ that Mr. Patrick, who is now the lawyer a tryin to foreclose us
for not payin gold, was the lawyer agin us when we was a tryin to git
the gold to pay with. We will prove that the law made Jobe take paper
money or nothin, and made him pay the costs for tryin to collect gold.
We will prove that Jobe took some of that money the law made him accept
for wheat, and more jist like it, to the banker, and offered to pay his
interest; that the banker refused, and on this testimony we ask you to
render judgment agin Mr. Vinting, the banker, for costs, and make him
take this $63 in paper money that I now tender in open court as payment
of the six months’ interest due.”
At that I handed the $63 to the clerk. He took it and gave me a receipt
for the amount.
Then I put Jobe on the stand and proved that he had taken the same money
the law made him take for his wheat to the banker and offered it to him;
that the banker refused to take anything but gold; that he had tried to
git the gold, but couldent find anybody that had any gold, and that he
had done all he could to raise the gold and couldent.
I then proved by Squire Reed that Jim Patrick was Billot’s lawyer, and
had argued and proved by Sam Moore and Lawyer Buchanan and others that
paper money was money and was a legal tender for debts, and that Jobe
was beat in his lawsuit agin Billot and had to pay the costs and take
paper money.
Then I “rested.”
Then Jim Patrick got up and made a short speech, statin that “gold was
God’s money;” that He had hidden it away in the vaults of nature for the
use of mankind as money. He showed how Banker Vinting was a Christian
and one of our leadin citizens, and all he asked the court to do was to
inforce his contract agin Jobe Gaskins. He showed how all the bankers
and bondholders and other money-lenders was in favor of gold and gold
contracts; then he showed that it was dishonest for Gaskins to attempt
to pay that interest in any other kind of money than gold as stipulated
in the contract.
“It is in fact repudiation,” says he, and he made sich a fine argament
for gold and agin other money that I put on my specks to make sure it
was Jim Patrick, the same Jim what argyed so loud and long for paper
money and agin gold the other day, in our case agin Billot for wheat
money.
His argament was so fine and patriotic that I felt half ashamed for
askin the court to make Banker Vinting take the same kind of money for
interest as the law made Jobe take for wheat.
[Illustration: “He made such a fine argament for gold and agin other
money.”]
Well, arter Jim got done I riz up and stated that we was aware that the
interest was due and unpaid; that I knowed the contract called for gold.
I told the court how I kicked agin signin the mortgage last Aprile, when
it was made, jist for the reason that it called for gold. I showed how
it was the banker’s doins, and not ourn, that it called for gold. I told
the court how Jobe and the others laughed at me and called me an
anacrist and all sich names for refusin to sign a gold mortgage. Then I
told him about havin to raise the money then to pay Congressman Richer
to keep from bein foreclosed at that time, and about my succumbin to
their ridicule and signin at last, hopin agin hope that in some strange
way we might raise the gold and save our home.
I told the judge that I dident believe “gold was God’s money;” that I
dident think God would make a metal to be used to turn people out of
home with; that if it was made for any sich purpose it must a been the
“other feller’s” doins.
I showed how government officers, through the influence of the rich
people, had called in the paper money and burned it up; how they had
issued bonds agin Jobe and his likes to git it to burn. I showed how the
same men had demonitized silver and brought us to a “gold basis,” all of
which had reduced prices, made money scarce and hard to git, and kept up
interest. I showed him how sich laws had throwed people out of homes and
turned all their earnins over to the money-lenders and sich.
I showed him how we had paid $3,800 toward our farm, and how, if he
dident make the banker take Jobe’s wheat money, we would be sold out,
and, at the low price land is sellin for, we would have nothin left in
our old age.
I begged him with tears in my eyes to make the banker take Jobe’s wheat
money and give us one more chance to save our old home.
Then I sot down, and my eyes would water, no matter how often I would
wipe them.
Well, the court cleared his throat a time or two and then said:
“It is a common occurrence for us judges in our official positions to do
unpleasant things. I am sorry for the old people, but the law must
uphold the _sacred rights of contract_. The contract calls for gold. I
will therefore render judgment agin Gaskins, the defendant, for full
amount of mortgage, accrued interest and costs of this case, and order
the sheriff to sell the premises to satisfy the judgment.”
When them words was spoke I jist felt smothered. I felt so queer I
hardly knowed where I was.
Jobe he jist sot there a starin, with a pleadin look on his face. We
both sot there numb like till the officer come around and told us the
case was over.
We kind a come to then and got up. Then I thought of the clerk havin
that paper money, so I told Jobe to go and git it.
He went, and the clerk told him he couldent surrender the money till the
case was settled; that that money was part of the court record, and the
land might not sell for enough to pay the judgment and all costs.
So we come home and left our wheat money and hay money and cow money and
the money for poor old Tom and all with the officers of the court.
Jobe, poor man, from the time he left that court-house till now he has
jist moped around, sighin and moanin.