JOBE TALKS OF THINGS THAT ARE GONE.
JOBE is down sick with “brain fever and nervous prostration.”
The doctor says it all come from his worryin over bein foreclosed.
Jobe jist lays and moans and talks to hisself. He is out of his head
most of the time.
[Illustration: “Jobe jist lays and moans.”]
Last nite he thought he had Betty, our drivin mare, back (the one we
parted with last spring to git money to pay interest to Congressman
Richer). He thought our little Jane was livin agin, and he was holdin
her on Betty’s back, a lettin her ride.
[Illustration: “I have to chop all the wood.”]
He jist kept a talkin fust one thing, then another, all nite.
I dident git to sleep any, and since he has been sick I have to chop all
the wood and do the chores and wait on him till I am nearly wore out and
not able to write.
I dont know what I will do if they foreclose us and put us out before
Jobe gits able to go about.
It jist seems one trouble brings on another. If the law would make the
banker (contract or no contract) take the same kind of money for
interest as it makes Jobe take for wheat, Jobe wouldent be down with
brain fever and sick from worryin.
I wonder why laws haint made as much in favor of hard-workin poor people
as rich people who sets in offices and dont do any hard work.
I see Congress and Mr. Cleveland are a goin to issue more bonds on the
people, and sell them at the post-offices to the popular people. Jobe
and me cant invest.