BILL BOWERS has got me into trouble. The Thursday arter I had my dream about the money bizness, who should ride up to our gate and hitch but Bill Bowers? I had not seen him for nigh onto two years, except in that dream, until he rid up to that gate post.

No sooner did I lay eyes on him than I thought of our meetin him that day in town, right there by Spring Brothers’ big store, and of his tellin us of the money plan, and of his goin with us to the county treasurer, and of us a learnin from the county treasurer that in a few days he would become the people’s banker and would lend money to the people on good security. While he was gittin off and hitchin, I remembered of his walkin with us up apast all the banks; I remembered of them refusin to lend us any money in the mornin; of them a peckin and a beckenin, a hollerin and a runnin arter us, wantin to lend us their money, in the evenin, arter we, and they too, had heerd of the new law Congress had made the day before—a law that turned a panic where we had to beg for money, and not git it, to a panic where they begged to lend us money and we wouldent borrow it.

Yes, sir, that there dream all come back to me as plain as day, Bill Bowers and all, jist as soon as I laid eyes on him.

So it was no more than nateral for me to tell him about it. Jobe not bein at home, I had to do the entertainin. As soon as he got in and got settled, I says:

“Bill Bowers, I am glad to see you. I must tell you my dream. Bring your cheer up to the fire.”

Then I jist up and told him that whole dream, and he swollered every word of it without chawin, as it were.

When I had finished he says, says he:

“Betsy Gaskins, if that ere dream was only enacted into a law, what a blessin it would be to the creatures of this world! Betsy, though I am one of the stanchest Republicans in Sandyville, if this here Dimicratic Congress would make sich a law, Ide vote the Dimicrat ticket at the very next township election. Betsy, how in the world did you come to dream sich a dream?”

Now, how do I know how I come to dream any particular dream? I went to bed and went to sleep, jist as I had done for nigh onto thirty-five years, exceptin, of course, Jobe slept in the spare bed and me alone. But would I tell Bill Bowers of that split in the two old parties, as it were, and have him tell all over creation that Jobe Gaskins and his wife Betsy had quit sleepin together? No. Ide die fust. So I jist says:

“Well, Bill, indeed I dont know how I come to dream it.”

And I dont.

Well, my tellin of Bill Bowers that ere dream is causin me no ends of trouble. Ime jist worried and hounded about by this and that one, to have me tell em about that dream, until I hardly git time to breathe.

Bill Bowers he jist went, and from the time he left our house until now he has been a tellin of my dream to every one he meets. And it seems he is a keepin a tellin it, the way people has been flockin here and keep a flockin. Jake Cribbs, and Joe Born, and Curt Hill, and Bill Loyd, and Jim Rankin and Mag his wife, and the Minnings, and the Bateses, and the Hances, and goodness only knows who all has been here to know more about my dream! And how I come to have it; and what Ime a goin to do about it; and why I dont git it published; and why I dont send it to Congress; and why I dont do this and do that!

And some of em say they have it goin that the law is made—that Bill Bowers told Tom Osborne, and Tom Osborne told Doc Hendershot, and Doc Hendershot told Lucy Joss, and Lucy Joss told somebody else, that Betsy Gaskins said there was sich a law passed, and they come from fur and near to know what paper I read it in? or how I heerd it? or if Ime certain I had it? &c. &c., and a thousand and one other things, until Ime sick and tired of it.

Last night they even waked me up at the dead hour of midnite—Ellic Shank and Lew Zimmerman and Dan Hochstetter did—to hear me tell em more about it. And Jobe he’s nearly destracted. The poor man is jist run as hard as I be, though he had nothin to do with dreamin of that dream, onless his not a sleepin with me that nite caused it.

What to do to git rid of all this questionin and answerin, this comin and a goin, I dont know. If they would go to readin, and thinkin, and a reasonin with themselves, they might have some dreams of their own—yes, have dreams with their eyes open. If these very people, men and women, who are worryin the life out of me, would go to readin of papers whose mouths haint shut by the public printin they git or hope to git; if they would go to readin papers that haint got some polertician’s hand around their throat—I say if these very people would read papers whose editures haint afraid to speak the truth when they see it; haint afraid to condem the wrong wherever they find it—I say, if they would read sich papers and sich books, they would dream dreams they never dreamed of dreamin before. I think they would begin to see that the Dimicrat pays the same rate of tax as the Republican pays, and vicey versy.

They would see that, no matter what is the polerticks of the office-holder, the voter has to pay the taxes out of which the feller draws a salary.

They would see that by reducin or increasin salaries their taxes are made high or low, as the case may be.

When they begin to see these things, I think they will begin to see that so far as they are concerned it dont make any difference to them which ticket they vote; that the feller most interested in their vote is the canderdate feller who is wantin to draw the salary.

Does a feller have to go to sleep to dream that holdin office is the best payin bizness in the country?

Does a feller have to go to sleep to dream that the salaries of all officeholders are too high, and that the foreigner dont pay the taxes out of which these salaries are paid?

Does a feller have to go to sleep to dream that all public expense ort to be cut down and kept cut down?

These are some of the dreams that the dreamless people would dream if they would go to readin of papers and books that Jobe and his likes would have me sent to the lunatic asylum for readin. (Here is another comer. I must quit.)