“Uncle Nate is a sound man: his head is level.
“And good, sound platforms, that is another reform, uncle Nate said we needed the worst kind, and he hoped I would insist on it when I got to be senator. He said there was too much talk about 'em in the papers, and too little done about 'em. Why, Elam Gowdey, uncle Nate's youngest boy, broke down the platform to his barn, and went right down through it, with a load of hay. And nothin' but that hay saved his neck from bein' broke. It spilte one of his horses.
“Uncle Nate had been urgin' him to fix the platform, or build a new one; but he was slack. But, as uncle Nate says, if such things are run by law, they will have to be done.
“And then, there is another thing uncle Nate and I was talkin' about,” says he, lookin' very amiable at me as I rolled out my cream biscuit—almost spooney.
“I shall jest run every poor Irishman and Chinaman out of the country that I can.”
“What has the Irishmen done, Josiah Allen?” says I.
“Oh! they are poor. There hain't no use in our associatin' with the poor.”