It was nearly mornin when I heerd the patriotic sounds of the fish-horn.
I got up and looked out of the winder, and there was Jobe a comin up the lane, with his breadbasket stuck out and his head throwed back, blowin that fish-horn as though his life depended on it, and every now and then he would stop, take off his hat and holler for Bushnell, jist as loud as he could holler.
Well, he come in and acted the fool worse nor a drunk man, till he nearly wore my patience out.
He said the gold basis bizness had succeeded and now one dollar was jist as good as another, and asked me if I wasent ashamed that I was a Dimicrat, and all sich fool questions.
Well, he got to bed at last and went to sleep, and in the mornin dident want to git up; so I jist let him lay.
“It was nearly mornin when I heerd the patriotic sounds of the fish-horn.”
About 9 o’clock a feller rid up to our gate and hitched, come to the door and asked if this is where Mr. Gaskins lives. Says I:
“It is where Jobe Gaskins lives.”
He handed me a paper and told me to give it to Mr. Gaskins.