e beaten the bucket shop for
once.) We also find that Jedson Bane's peaches are ripe and of the best
quality, which fact he has just proven to the editor's entire
satisfaction. And that old Mrs. Gastit is feeling very poorly, and Pete
Parson, while working on his automobile the other night, contributed a
forefinger to the cause of gasoline by poking around in the cogs while
the engine was running.

All of this is news and interesting to us; so is the fact that Miss Ri
Hawkes is not teaching in the Snyder district school this week, because
of a sore toe. While this item does not jar the country quite so
extensively as it would if Miss Hawkes belonged to one of your leading
New York families, and was employing an eleven-thousand-dollar physician
to treat her for gout, it is just as important to Miss Hawkes. And there
you have the great keynote of our Homeburg journalism. In the eyes of
the _Democrat_ we are all equal.

There are not many of us Homeburgers. We will never see twenty-five
hundred again, for as families grow smaller, most of the Illinois towns
like Homeburg are contracting slowly in size even while prosperous. The
_Democrat_ hasn't above seven hundred subscribers, but every one of
those subscribers gets his name in the paper at least once a year, even
if it is only a general mention of his patriotism when he pays his
annual subscription. No baby born in Homeburg is too humble to get its
exact weight heralded to the world through the _Democrat_. Mrs.
Maloney's pneumonia and Banker Payley's quinsy grieve the town in the
same paragraph under the heading "Among our sick." The Widow Swanson's
ten-mile trip down the line to a neighboring town gets as careful
attention as Mrs. Singer's annual pilgrimage to California. In the
matter of news we are a pure democracy. The man who buys a new
automobile gets no more space than the member of Patrick McQuinn's
section crew who scores a clean scoop by digging his potatoes one week
ahead of the town. And when the humblest of us lies down in death he
does it with the serene consciousness that he will get half a column,
anyway, with more if his disease is rare and interesting, and that at
the end of the article the city will sympathize with the family in its
bereavement. When Mrs. Agnew died of her broken hip she got a column,
though she had been financially unable to take the paper for years,
while in the same issue Jay Gould got a two-inch obituary in its boiler
plate insid