CHAPTER XXVII.

“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.

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.

“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.