“You pass that bill and hell will break loose!”
“How so, brother? Ain’t we on top and the rebels on the bottom? Ain’t the army here to protect us?” persisted Tim.
There was a brief consultation among the little group in opposition and the leader said, “Mr. Speaker, I move that the bill be at once printed and laid on the desk of the members for consideration.”
Tim was astonished at this move of his enemy. Le-gree looked at him and waited his pleasure.
“Mr. Speaker, I withdraw that bill for the present,” he said at length.
That night the wires were hot between Washington and Raleigh, and the entire power of Congress was hurled upon the unhappy Tim. His bill was not only suppressed but the news agencies were threatened and subsidised to prevent accounts of its introduction being circulated throughout the country.
Tim decided to lay this measure over until Congress was off his hands, and the state’s autonomy fully recognised. Then he would dare interference. In the meantime he turned his great mind to financial matters. His success here was overwhelming.
His first measure was to increase the per diem of the members from three to seven dollars a day. It passed with a whoop.
Uncle Pete Sawyer a coal-black fatherly looking old darkey from an Eastern county made himself immortal in that debate.
“Mistah Speakah!” he bawled drawing himself up with great dignity, and holding a pen in his left hand as though he had been writing. “What do dese white gem’men mean by ezposen dis bill? Ef we doan pay de members enuf, dey des be erbleeged ter steal. Hit aint right, sah, ter fo’ce de members er dis hon’able body ter prowl atter dark when day otter be here ’tendin’ ter de business o’ de country. En I moves you, sah. Mistah Speakah, dat dese rema’ks er mine be filed in de arkibes er grabity!”