March 1874Billy Drury
Farmer
Clay County, Missouri
I was on my way home, one dark and lonely night, after spending a few days with my Uncle Benbow down in the Crackerneck. I’d left his place bright and early that morning, but Horace Greeley—my riding horse in those days—had a shoe come loose just as we reached the bridge over the Little Blue. I stopped at the tavern there to have the shoe tightened, but, like a fool, I dallied there too long debating the economic situation—there was a depression on, you see—with some of the ladies of the place.
We took a good three hours to conclude that this particular depression, like all others, was the fault of the Wall Street barons, the carpetbaggers, the “party of Grant”—that being the Republicans—the railroads, the banks, and, for some reason I
