The Topeka state journal. [volume] (Topeka, Kansas) 1892-1980, 1922-10-25
ON SECOND THOUGHT
BY JAY y. HOUSE.
(Fron Philadslphia Pzhlie LsdssF.)
A Letter From Bin Dye.

copper kettle, and right at the foot of |
the hill before I got to the mail box |
met Med Sears, and he was a-telling |
me about how us farmers was being |
ground down by Wall Street and |
happened to think I had not been to |
the mail box for two or three days
and there was something in it and it |
was your letter. For while couldn't |
think who it was from. But put II |
in my pocket and went on over to |
Tinkham's after the kettle and the
next day we threshed, but Thursday, |
it was either Thursday or Friday, we
was going to Aunt Polly Nunnelly's
funeral and when I was changing my
clothes 1 happened to put my hand in
my pocket and there was your letter.
Well after we got back from the fun
eral set down and read it, and I was
sure whether it was from you or your
brother. Then Luella remembered
that you went East and your brother
went West and we decided it was from
you.
There is not much news in this
neighborhood. 1 reckon you heard
Aunt Mealy Ticknor died two years
ago this fall. She overdone putting
up fruit and kind of went into a de-
cline. I am all right except that my
leg bothers me at times. It never has
been right since that time the sorrel
mares run off with me and you. When
| the tongue of the buggy come down
it throwed you cigar over the hedge
fence into the corn field, but you
didn't seem to be much hurt and
helped me up to the house and they
sent for the doctor. But along about
o'clock that night you come out of
it and said. where am L? What are
we all a doing here?" Luella says it
wasn't you that was with me when the
EOrTel of
brother, but it seems to me it was you.
I have got a granddaughter of that
off sorrel mare that looks as much
like her as two peas. Glib Toland
passed away last summer. don't
know what they will do. There is
eight children and the oldest is only
twelve years old and not much help.
They are painting the school house
again. I remember the last time it
was painted you had come over to
borrow an apple corer and we slipped
down and stole some of the paint. I
guess it was you. It may have been
Mitch Barley. 1t was one of you.
They haven't fixed the hole in the
floor yet. The school has dwindled
down till there is not more than
twenty scholars and they don't want
| to spend too much money on it the
way times is. I expect you remember
| that hole. 1t was right back of the
stove when you went to school, but
u.
Ed Perriman died this summer. He
| had run thru with about everything.
/ They say he owed the bank a good
deal of money, three or four hundred
dollars.
Bryan was here a year ago last
| summer and spoke at Grigsby City,
| but didn't go and hear him. I don't
go around much. 1 was down to
the soldiers reunion at Parsons last
| fall. I met fellow there that knowed
/ your brother, 1 forget his name. Seems
/ like 1t was Simms or Simmons, or
something like that. He was running
| a cane rack and seemed to be doing
well. He was no relation to the Bill
| Simmons that used to live on Yankee
| that he was dead. He went down into
| Texas, but they brought his body back.
| Some said he got into trouble down
| there. Ted Bayard has bought the
! old Mitchell place and fixed it up.
They have photograph and they say
| he paid twelve hundred dollars for his
| car. Everybody is wondering where
he got the money. L don't suppose
] you remember him. He is new
| conner. They moved into the neigh
borhood in 1898 or 49, Or maybe it
was before that. Luella says it was
the year we grubbed out the peach
orchard and that was the year before
| Conkrights built their new house. The
Conkrights built the year Grandfather
Allen died. Bill Gabriers Oldest boy
| had a good job with a cement gang
in Missouri, but he come home last
week. The Gabriels won't stick to
| anything. Bill was township assessor
| for three years. He got three dollars
a day when he worked, but he didn't
lsave anything. Pash Stuckey is dead.
| They say he got hold of a bottle of
carbolic acid, but they hushed it up
and nobody ever knowed anything for
| certain. Doc Settle was in it some
way and that meant nobody could find
| out anything.
| I suppose you have good time in
| the city just working your ten hours
| a day and not having anything much
to do after you get home in the even
ing. It's an easy life. but I don't be-
lieve I'd like it. I went to st. Louis
on an excursion train once, and that
was enough of the city for me. I was
| tired of it before the day was over.
We Jeff Grigsby City about 8 o'clock
| in the morning and didn't get to st.
Louis till nearly noon. I hadn't taken
no lunch with me and the fellow at
the lunch stand wanted to charge me
ten cents for sandwich and ten
cents for a cup of coffee, but I
wouldn't stand it to be robbed. tried
ten cents apiece, too, and I asked the
fellow If he thought I was from the
country. Well, we fooled around most
of the afternoon and finally the train
started back about O'Clock in the
evening and we didn't get to Crigsby
City until after sunup the next morn
ing. 1 remember it because 1t was
the day Jake Adson died. We had to
go over to the Adson's that evening
and I didn't get to bed until after
| s O'Clock. Luella says it wasn't the
day Jake died. She says it was Mart
! SturKes. Anyway, I got all the city
life I wanted that day. I used to
think I'd let up a little and buy a
house in Grigsby City and move to
town, but after that day in st. Louis
I made up my mind that the farm was
good enough for me.
hope you are doing well, but your
expenses must be pretty high, and 1
, don't suppose you are putting much
away. Jim Haley told me when he