Last nite he thought he had Betty, our drivin mare, back (the one we parted with last spring to git money to pay interest to Congressman Richer). He thought our little Jane was livin agin, and he was holdin her on Betty’s back, a lettin her ride.
“I have to chop all the wood.”
He jist kept a talkin fust one thing, then another, all nite.
I dident git to sleep any, and since he has been sick I have to chop all the wood and do the chores and wait on him till I am nearly wore out and not able to write.
I dont know what I will do if they foreclose us and put us out before Jobe gits able to go about.
It jist seems one trouble brings on another. If the law would make the banker (contract or no contract) take the same kind of money for interest as it makes Jobe take for wheat, Jobe wouldent be down with brain fever and sick from worryin.
I wonder why laws haint made as much in favor of hard-workin poor people as rich people who sets in offices and dont do any hard work.
I see Congress and Mr. Cleveland are a goin to issue more bonds on the people, and sell them at the post-offices to the popular people. Jobe and me cant invest.