Rensselaer Semi-Weekly Republican, Volume 22, Number 12, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 30 October 1900 — SIMON GREY’S FAMILY. [ARTICLE]

SIMON GREY’S FAMILY.

A Story of Country Life.

BY ALMA L. PARKER,

GUIDE ROCK, NEB.

CHAPTER Vll.—(Continued.) All eyes now turned toward Simon, as he arose to his feet. “Mr. Chairman,” he said, “I feel duty-bound to make this announcement before this assemblage of wise men. I must disown all traitors in my family. I have always tried to treat my children right, and to train them up in the way they should go, but I see my efforts have been in vain. This daughter I have always loved; she was at one time the pridp of our family, but if she has turned out to be a coldhearted traitor and have her name written with those infernal goldbugs, who could blame me if I disowned iter? I will therefore say to Miss Vinnie Grey, with the honorable convention for witness, that you are no longer a welcome guest at the home of your father; that you shall never enter my home again, nor plant your feet on my land, nor come where I can ever look into your face. I have no use for traitors, even if they bear the honorable name of Grey.” CHAPTER VIII. The Ideas of the Irishman. The sensational episode at the convention was now almost forgotten, for another year' had come and gone. It was near the end of 1900. Simon’s family seemed to be prospering financially, but it was not the happy family that it was in the days when Vinnie occasionally came home. She had now been married over a year; she no longer bore the “honorable” name of “Grey.” “Pa,” said Anna, “I can’t stay away any longer. I simply must see Vinnie. It’s a downright shame the way we treat her.” “It’s no more than she deserves,” said her father, “and what’s more, you won’t go to see her either, unless yon wish me to treat you as I treat her. As long as her name is Harrington, and she’s on the side of Republicanism, none who belong to this family circle shall ever go to the town she lives ini” Simon had been so rigid in bis orders that even Cynthia, to keep peace in the family, had never seen Vinnie since that memorable convention day. But you could plainly see that trouble was rooted deep in her soul. She was really heart-broken, and prayed for the day to come when Simon would repent. One evening as they were seated together in the parlor, listening to Simon’s explanation of the new political question, called “expanison,” there came a knock at the door. “Who could it be?” they all whispered, as Jimmie ran to open the door. “Is this where Mr. Simon Grey lives?” said a familiar voice. "Well, I'll be gol darned,” said Jimmie, “if it isn’t Uncle Ezra.” Hearty were the hand-shakes, and when Ezra took Simon’s hand in his he held it for a moment, glanced ’round the room, and asked in a bewildered way: “Where’s Vinnie?” "Oh, she’s married,” said Simon bravely, but the other eyes in the room filled with tears.

“Oh, ,ves,” lie said, “I remember now of you writing about it. I came very near never finding you, Simoujf’ he said laughing. “The old weather-beaten house, having been painted and enlarged, made the place look different. I wasn’t sure that you lived here; but I concluded to call and find out whether you did or not. I couldn’t find you at the poor house." “Great heavens, Ezra, you didn’t call at the poor house to find me!” Simon said, excitedly. “You must have a very poor opinion of me if you did.” “Don’t be surprised, Simon,” said Cynthia, “at Ezra expecting to find us in the poor house. You know we told him, if McKinley was elected, we’d probably go there. I have been ashamed many times of what we said, and the prophecies we made; but really, we didn’t know any better then.” Ezra Grey laughed. “That’s all right, Cynthia. I’m glad you were mistaken, for 1 should much rather find you living In your own comfortable home. You all look well; guess you have bad plenty to eat.” “Of course we have, Unde Ezra,” said Jimmie. “Pa used to tell us we’d starve to death If McKinley was elected, but gee whiz! we never had so much pie and cake to eat before. We’ve got some money hid around here, too. some place, bein’ that pa’s afraid to put It In tbetoank. Ma’d skin me alive If I’d tell you where we kept it." “Jimmie,” said his father. “If you say any more I shall make you leave the room; do you hear?” “Reckon I do. 1 baln’t deaf.” ' “I tell you, Ezra,’’ continued Simon. “It has been rough dlggin’ to make a livelihood these years. I have had to use keen management.” “Your mortgage is paid, 1 presume?” “Oh, yes. I paid that the spring after you were out here with my wheat crop.” “And your ne«v house Is paid for. “Yes, by the skin of my teeth, you might say. Suppose I hadn’t ought to have been so extravagant, for lumber is dreadful high these gold-bug times. “Now Simon ” said Cynthia, “don’t

pretend just because your prophecies didn’t come true that we are still having hard times. You know, Shpon, we never made money easier.” “Cynthia,” interrupted her better half, looking bothered, “you don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.” “Now, Simon,” said Ezra, “judging from appearances, Cynthia must be right. What are hogs worth now?” “About $4.50 at present, I believe.” "What are calves worth?” “Well, they’re too awful high. .The war raised the price of beef." “But how could that affect it?” “Why. it rqakes a greater demand.” “Ah, Simon, but you told me when I was here before that supply and demand bad nothing to do with the regulation of prices.” "I don’t remember about it; if I did, I’ve changedmy mind since then. Here, hogs are a goon price, but they are scarce, and they ought to be higher than they are. If it wasn’t for them rich fellows that have control of the markets we’d get what we’d ought to have.” “Oh, Simon, you’re too hard to satisfy. Why, you wouldn’t be satisfied with Heaven, unless Bryan was God, and there was free silver. What’s corft worth now?” “I don’t know,” said Simon. “I haven’t had a chance to take any to market yet. I’ve been too busy to husk any myself, and hired hands are as scarce as hen’s teeth.” “Wages are good, then?” “Yes, they’re too almighty good to suit me. Why, it’s enough to break a farmer up to hire help.” “It’s a sign of good times, Simon. I see you are prospering despite the gold standard.” "Well, Ezra, I am as much in favor of free silver as 1 ever was, in spite of your so-called good times, but that is not the main reform that now confronts us. The principal question now is the Philippine war. It is a disgrace to this nation.”

“So you are au anti-expansionist, are you, Simon?” “You’re right, I am. lam on the side of those poor Filipinos who are being oppressed. 1 am on the side of Aguiualdo, the Washington of the Philippines. They are fighting for freedom, aud they ought to have it. If I were a Filipino as 1 am an American I would never lay down my arms, never!” “Simon,” said Ezra, "it is just such men as you that are prolonging that war. Aguinaldo would have given up long ago were it not for the sympathy he is having in this country. Now. you compared Aguinaldo to Washington. Why, you might as well compare a blood-thirsty tiger to Washington, who was a civilized, intelligent man, while Aguinaldo is an ignorant, uncivilized heathen, whose principal traits are cunning and treachery, something like the American Indian.” Their conversation was here interrupted by another knock at the door. "Well,” said Jimmie, "wonder \yho’s cornin’ next? Must be agoin’, to have lots of company.” It happened to be a stranger this time, who wished to know if he could find a night’s lodging. Simon told him that, he could, to walk right in, for it was very seldom that he turned travelers away. This one was a foreigner; yes, he was Irish—you could tell his nationality by his short, thick physique aud the “St. Patrick” expression on his countenance. “What’s your name?” inquired Simon. “My name is Pat Murphy, sor, aud whot’s yours? Grey? Wal, thot’s not slch a very oncommon sort of a name.” “W r e were just discussin’ this antiexpausion questiou, My. Murphy,” said Simon, hopefully. “What do you think about it?” “Well, mister, J haven’t a divll of a bit of use for the anty-expauder. He’s the feller thot's agin everything.” . Simon wasn’t expecting to hear such au answer as that, and was disgusted when everybody in the room had a hearty laugh at his expense. To make matters worse, the Irishman continued: “He’s the feller thot’s f’rlver in the way and never does enything but kick at whot the other feller's doin’. He always knows jest how Ivrything ought to be done, but bis valuable infurmation Is always withheld till somebody else has done the job.” “Oh, go on,” said Jimmie, who wae very interested In the Irish traveler’* talk. “Well,” continued Mr. Murphy, “it’* been a nachur’l suceission of ivlnts thot (To be continued.i