I MADE me a pair of Dimicratic bloomers day before yisterday, and Jobe he is mad. Ive been a waitin to make me a pair all summer, but put off doin so till arter the Dimicratic State convention. As soon as I heerd from that convention I sot to work and made them.

I made one leg and the waist out of a pair of Jobe’s old black pants, and the other leg I made out of a sheet.

The black leg is to represent the polerticians and schemers what wants a “gold basis,” and the white leg is for the Dimicratic voters what wants silver for money jist like we use to have years ago when times were good.

I made the black leg and waist for the right side, because it seems that the fellers what it stands for is the strongest, and the white leg is for the “left” side.

When I was a soin that white leg to the black leg, every now and then a stitch would break out of the white leg, jist as though that white leg dident want to be hitched onto that “black leg” side, and I jist thought it would be a wonder if the white leg side of them bloomers dident split clear off from the “black leg” side before election day.

But by a good deal of whippin and stitchin I got them together and put them on to go out and pick pertater bugs.

Jobe he was away, and I was as busy as I could be knockin bugs into an old tomato can, bent over like, when Jobe come up to the gate and hollered:

“Hello, mistur!”

I stopped and turned towards him and says, says I:

“I thank you, Jobe Gaskins; Ime no ‘mistur.’”

Well, you ort a seen the look on that man’s face.

He turned pale, opened his eyes skeert like, stepped back and says:

“Why, Betsy, what air you out here for with your clothes off?”

That made me mad. Says I:

“Mistur Gaskins, I thank you for none of your insults. If you had any sense you would know that I am dressed in the latest fashion.”

Then I explained to him that bloomers were all the go, and that I had made mine arter the style of my party—arter the Dimicratic State platform of Ohio and the Dimicratic county platform of Tuscarawas County—one gold, the other silver. Says I:

“Dont you see, Jobe, in this garb we ketch em a comin and we ketch em a goin.”

Says he: “Betsy, do you intend to wear them things all fall?”

“I do,” says I.

He studied a minit. Then, lookin at me determined like, says he:

“You needent look for me home to-nite.”

And off he started.

As he went he kept lookin, fust back at me, then down at his pants.

Whether or not he was a thinkin that his pants with their patches represented the platform of his “dear old Republican party” I cant say. But I jist thought: “If they dont represent his party platform, they are a good standin advertisement of the greenbacks that have been burnt, and the bonds that have been issued, and silver that has been demonitized by them within the last thirty years.”

Jobe is gone, the Lord only knows where, but Ive made up my mind to truly represent the divided principles of Dimocracy as it now stands, if doin so elects Coxey the next governor of Ohio and makes me a grass widder for life. Feelin that way, I am yours in bloomers.