THE lawsuit is over. The decidin is done, and we are foreclosed. My heart has been so heavy and Ive been so troubled that I jist couldent set down and write a letter with any sense to it till to-day.
You dont know how bad it makes a body feel to know the place you have looked on and loved as home is a gittin away from you—slippin from under you, as it were. Everything seems to change. Jobe, poor man, he jist sets and studies.
Well, that day at court, arter dinner, the judge come in, took his seat, ordered court opened, and says, lookin at me:
“Mrs. Gaskins, I have decided to let you argy this case.”
At that all them lawyers except Jim Patrick, the one doin the foreclosin, got up and left the house.
When everything was ready Jim he got up and handed in the mortgage and the notes, and stated that he would prove by those papers that last Aprile Jobe and Betsy Gaskins executed notes and a mortgage to Mr. Vinting, the banker, for the sum of $1,800, with interest at seven per cent., payable semi-annually “in gold;” that a few days after the interest fell due Jobe Gaskins tendered to Banker Vinting $63 in paper money as said six months’ interest, and refused or neglected then or at any other time to tender gold in payment of the interest as the contract provided, and upon this evidence he would ask the court to foreclose the mortgage and sell the premises to satisfy the claims of his client.
“‘I am a banker, sir, a banker.’”
He then called Banker Vinting to the stand and had him hold up his hand and swear.
Then he examined him as follers: