The Starkville News
STARKVILLE. : : : MISSISSIPPI.
DON’T FORGET THE OLD FOLKS
Nay, don’t forget the old folks, boys—
they’ve not forgotten you;
Though years have parsed since you were
home, the old hearts still arfe true;
And not an evening passes by they haven’t
To see your faces once again and hear
your footsteps Higher.
You're young and buoyant, and for you
Hope beckons with her hands.
And life spreads out a waveless sea that
laps but tropic strands;
The world is all before your face, but let
your memories turn
To where fond hearts still cherish you and
.loving bosoms yearn.
No matter what your duties are nor wftat
your place in life.
There's never been u time they'd not as
sume your load of strife;
And shrunken shoulders, trembling hands,
and forms racked by disease.
Would bravely dare the grave to bring to
you the pearl of peace.
So don’t forget the old forks, boys—they’ve
not forgotten you;
Though years have passed since you were
home, the old hearts still are true;
And write them now and then to bring the
light into their eyes.
And make the world glow once again and
bluer gleam the skies.
—Will T. Hale, in Tennessee Farmer.
a A Tray of i
I Bangs §
I By LYNN ROBY MEEKINS. g
Copyright, 1903, by Daily Story Pub. Cos.
Benjamin Priddle’s jewelry store
was the finest shop in Warren City and
it knew more family history than the
cemetery. Benjamin Priddle himself
had supplied the birth rings and en
gagement rings and wedding rings and
anniversary rings for several genera
tions, and still he insisted on being as
young and as cheerful as the newest
crop of sunny-faced boys and love
But of them all lie liked Elsie Brown
ing best. The tine old Browning home
was almost opposite his store. He
had known her from babyhood. He
had sold Mr. Browning the ring that
Mrs. Browning had worn through all
the years—and also the other rings.
And Elsie knew the treasures of his
shop. In fact, he liked to seek her ad
vice. to go by her taste and to heed her
counsel. What were the girls wearing
in larger cities? Miss Elsie could tell
him. What were the popular styles?
Miss Elsie always knew. And —“when
it comes to geting the ring for you,
Miss Elsie, the ring of all rings, it must
come from Benjamin Priddle’s.'’
“How silly I” exclaimed Miss Elsie,
her dark eyes dancing in fun. “Do you
expect me to buy it —or even to select
“Stranger things have happened,”
taid Mr, Priddle solemnly.
A lovely morning and Mr. Richard
Taylor looked unusually tall, fair and
<Zebonnair when he rang the bell of
the Browning house. As he passed
into the reception room he almost
stumbled over a small boy—a small
hoy holding a square package on his
closely pressed knees —knees that
seemed knit together by conscious re
sponsibility. “Beg pardon,” he said.
“How are you, Mr. Taylor?” and he
‘Why, bless my soul, it's Jimmie —
Jimmie- from Priddle’s. Glad to see
you, Jimmie. How’s your eye?”
“Better, thank yon, sir. And thank
you again for helping me out. I could
a’ done the other feller, but his pals
wras too much.
“Don’t try it again. Jimmie. I might
be out of sight. What have you there?
I don’t mean that. It’s none of my
Jimmie moved forward with myste
rious solemnity. He looked around
the corners. He clasped his hands
over his package. Then in a hoarse
whisper he asked: “You like her?”
And Taylor, more in amusement than
•curiosity, nodded, “Well, say, Mr.
Dick” —all the boys showed how they
really loved the old college athlete
when they called him Mr. Dick—
“you’d better get a move on. It’s a put
np job. I heard it all —Mr. T. Morgan
Belmarest and Mr. Priddle going over
the whole thing, andJhe one she likes,
why, the automobile guy’s going to
bring it over and put it on her finger—
and —golly, here she comes. Please,
Mr. Dick, don’t give me away.”
Mr. Dick winked compliance to Jim
mie and arose to meet Miss Elsie
Browning, who, radiant, smiling and
beautiful, entered. Little Jimmie
stood dutifully, holding his package
as steadily as though he and it had
come from the same mould. She greet
ed Taylor and then turned to Jimmie.
“Well, Jimmie, what is it?”
“Mr. Priddle sent ’em. Miss. A lot of
new rings he’s just got in. Thought
you might want to look at ’em. Would
like very much, ma’am, to know your
“Preferences, Jimmie, preferences,”
corrected Taylor, with a laugh, in
which Miss Elsie merrily joined.
“Very kind of Mr. Priddle, .1 am
sure,” she said. “Perhaps Mr. Taylor
would like lo look at them, too? . •
. Will, you wait, Jimmie? , .
Very well. Sit down. . . . Mr.
Taylor, suppose we go to the library?
. . . There’s a better light.”
“I’ll bet he makes a touch-down,”
said Jimmie to himself, as he curled
up in the seat and smiled like a tene
They k iked at the rings. A mellow
light came through the wide plate
“Aren’t they lovely?” shej asked
“Which do you like best?”
. “Anything —for itself.”
“Don’t be foolish.”
“Now here,” he said, selecting a
shining cluster, “is a fine thing for
Zebediah J. to give to Salinda Ann
after making his pile —and Salinda
would hold up her hand until she had
“This?” she asked, placing a soli
taire against the light.
“Exquisite. It ought to call for an
automobile and a ready-made mansion
with a glue factory to pay bills. That
is, of course, if it is genuine.”
“You cannot always tell.”
“But granting it is.”
“Well it might be a diamond ring
and a rhinestone man.”
“Away with your doubts.”
“All right. There is a man, a genu
ine man. and a genuine diamond. With
all-his worldly goods he thee endows
—money, a home assured, every
thing that wealth cay buy. You
would deserve it. You should be
happy. There will be no wait
in for fortune —no struggle, no
pulling against tides —but smooth
sailing o’er summer seas. . . . Nc
plodding along the dusty road, but a
happy skimming along in the auto
mobile. . . . And the big diamond
glittering on the third finger of the
left hand. ... It is the third fin
ger of the left hand, isn't it?”
“How should 1 know?”
She picked up the rings one by one.
“Mr, Priddle. often sends me his new
things to look at,” she remarked aim
“This is not new,” he said.
It was a band of gold. “But I like it.
Don't you?” he added.
“It is so real,” he declared, more so
berly. His serious eyes were fixed
upon her face as he went on. “It
might be the pledge of a man whofce
love was like it —the same all the way
through, its beginning unmarked, un
ending, solid and continuing, the mys
p tic circle of immortality, the verj' sym
bol of infinity. I like to think of love
like that, don’t you?”
“We're discussing rings.”
“It might mean,” he declared more
earnestly, “.a man who has his fortune
to make but who would make it all the
better and surer if he knew that his
soul was bound in the ring to the soul
of the one he loved.”
Her head fell. She was forgetting
the rings and Icoking at the floor.
“Elsie, you know what I am trying
to say,” he continued, tenderly. “You
know I love you. Y"ou know I have not
wealth. You know I have my mark to
make. But I want to tell you—l came
to tell you —that through all the diffi
culties that have hindered there is a
breaking of sunshine, and if we could
only' face and make the struggle to
gether —if only I could have your
sweet assurance to help me along, life
would be so very different and I should
be sure to win. It's a great deal to ask,
but my love for you is so full and
strong that it makes me rich in spite
of my poverty. . . . Elsie. . , .
One word —”
It isn't necessary to describe what
happened during the next five min
utes. After that, Mr. Dick Taylor
rushed to the reception room with the
tray and commanded Jimmie to take
it back and to return with all the gold
bands in the store —and not to say
they were for him. Jimmie fulfilled
his mission and stoutly refused to an
swer Mr. Priddle’s questions. From
the new' lot of gold bands Richard Tay
lor and Elsie together made a selec
tion —and it was placed upon the third
finger of her left hand.
“Mr. Priddle,” said Jimmie, much
later in the day, “excuse me, sir, but
I couldn’t help hearing. Y r ou and Mr.
Belmarest was going to ’sprise Miss
Elsie, sir. . . . Well, sir, the show’s
over. . . . Mr. Dick Taylor
THE TICKET-TAKER’S WOES.
Trouble* of the Man WJio Collects
the Pasteboards at the
“Tickets, said the man at
the door of one of the down-town
theaters one cold evening, relates the
“Kelp yourself,” said the patron of
the playhouse, as he pulled open his
coat. “1 am too cold to get at them.”
The ticket taker reached his hand
into the man’s waistcoat and extracted
the small envelope with the necessary
bits of pasteboard. After tearing off
the seat coupons and giving them to
the chilled customer the blocked line
began to move again.
“This is the tirst time that 1 ever had
to go through a man’s pockets,” said
the doorkeeper. “1 have had all sorts
of experiences at theater doors, but
this was not included among them.”
A thousand persons who enter any
of the theaters present their tickets
in almost a thousand different ways.
Some are embarrassed. They leave the
seat coupons in the. hands of the man
at the door. Many of them hand them
to the head usher and rush on as if
there was no time to be lost, and are
caught in a mad race to the seats that
they suppose belong to them.
It is not at all difficult to decide by
the manner in which they offer the
tickets whether or not they are regu
lar at tcmlants at the theater. Women
who are not accustomed to visit the
playhouses seem to take it for granted
that tickets must be shown before they
will be permitted to enter. The escort,
many times rushed and confuted, fails
to find the tickets on the first search,
and his women friends stand blocking
the way .while he examines his pockets.
The tickets are usually presented
in the envelopes in which they have
been inclosed by the man at the ticket
w indow. This means that the man at
the door must tear the envelope open
before he can examine the tickets. The
delay on one means the wailing of 50
in the line behind. Others have them
ready and pass in without a stop in the
line, but these are the exception.
Tickets are taken from handbags,
suit cases and the inside bands of hats.
One woman had to be allowed to visit
the retiring room the other evening
before she surrendered her tickets, but
the finally found them.
The holders of the tickets sometimes
want to talk to the taker. A man who
is tearing the coupons of a hundred
t ickets a minute cares little for the con
dition of the weather, but he must be
polite, and so he smiles and says some
thing and wonders.
DIDN’T KNOW HIMSELF.
Spoke to Him He Didn’t
Congressman Jenkins, of Wiscon
sin, who recently introduced a meas
ure looking toward the governmental
seizure of the coal mines, was talk
ing the other day about the vanity
that inflates some men when they
achieve success in life, says the New
“In my boyhood,” he said, “I re
member how. a man from my town
was elected to a minor political of
fice, and got so puffed up about it
that he would hardly speak to any
one on the street.
“One day a blacksmith, who had
electioneered for this man, entered
his office and extended his hand. But
the other failed to see the hand, and
said: ‘I don’t remember you, sir.’
“The blacksmith looked around. A
half dozen men were present, and to
these he addressed himself.
“ ‘Gentlemen,’ he said, ‘this here
reminds me of the mayor that they
elected once in my wife’s town. They
elected, more for a joke than any
thing else, an old ragpicker to the
mayoralty. They made him buy a
frock coat and a white tie and a plug
hat, and they persuaded him to ride
around in a falltop buggy. It was a
change, 1 tell you.
“ ‘Well, his wife met him at the
house door on his first day in office,
and he passed her by without look
ing at her. He was grand, you see,
in his plug hat and white tie, but
she only had on her working clothes
and her sleeves were rolled up. “Why,
James,” she says, nearly crying,
“why, don’t you know me, James?”
“How can I know’ you, Mary,” says
he, “how can I know you when I
don’t know myself now?”
“ ‘There are other men besides that
ragpicker mayor,’ the blacksmith
ended, ‘who don’t know
And he grinned at his embarrassed
audience and walked out.”
What They Really Were.
Sparticus —They tell me that some
royal dwellings are surrounded
guards standing so close together as
to resemble a fence.
Smarticus —A sort of picket; fence,
I suppose; yet in reality they are
only palace aids.—Baltimore Amer
Sandford —1 never allow’ mysajf to
become angry or lose my temper'with
Merton —That probably accounts fci
your always being on such good termii
with yourself. — N. Y. Herald.
How It Really Happens.
“Johnny,” cautiously inquired Mr, Stx
aweek of her little brother, when he called
the other evening—“she” was putting the
finishing touches to her toilet upstairs —
‘‘have you-er, does you-er-do you-er-ever
hear your sister speak ot me’/"'
“You can’t pump me,” promptly replied
Johnny, “i don't butt into my fibster's
Then Johnny picked up a shinny stick
out of the hall rack and. went out.
This is the way it happens in 990 cases
out of 1,000, but the funnyists could never
be clubbed into believing it. — Washington
A Cure for Rheumatism.
Alhambra, 111., Mar.23rd : —Physicians are
much puzzled over the case of Mr. F. J. Os
wald, of this place. Mr. Oswald suffered
much with Rheumatism and was treated by
doctor after doctor with the result that he
got no better whatever. They seemed un
able to do anything for him and he contin
ued to suffer till he heard of Dodd’s Kidney
Mr. Oswald began a treatment of this
remedy which very soon dud for him what
the doctors had failed to do. and they cannot
This is the same remedy that cured Hon.
Fred A. Busse, our State Treasurer, of a
very severe case of Rheumatism some years
ago, and which has since had an unbroken
record of success in curing all forms of
Rheumatism and Kidney Trouble.
There seems to be no case of these pain
ful diseases that Dodd's Kidney Pills will
not cure promptly and permanently.
M rs. W ise—l think Mr. Phoxy will pro
pose to our Mildred very soon now'.
Mr. Wise —1 hadn’t noticed that he was
▼ery attentive to her.
“No, but lie has been flirting outrageously
with me.” —Philadelphia Press.
Do not believe Piso’s Cure for Consump
tion has an equal for coughs and colds.—J.
F. Boyer, Trinity Springs, Jnd., Feb. 15, 1900.
The man who is willing to meet trouble
halt-way seldom has to go that fur to meet
Don’t wait until your sufferings have
driven you to despair, with your nerves all
shattered and your courage gone.
Help and happiness surely awaits you if you accept Mrs. Pinkham’s
advice. Disease makes women nervous, irritable, and easily annoyed by
children and household duties; such women need the counsel and help
of a woman who understands the peculiar troubles of her sex; that
woman is Mrs. Pinkham, who with her famous medicine, Lydia E.
Pinkham’s Vegetable Compound, have restored more sick and dis
couraged women to health and happiness than any other one person.
Her address is Lynn, Mass., and her advice is free. Write today, do
Will not the volumes of letters from women who have been
made strong by Lydia E. Pinkham’s Vegetable Compound con
vince others of the virtues of this great medicine?
When a medicine has been successful in more than a million
cases, is it justice to yourself to say, without trying it, “I do not
believe it would help me ? ” *■*’
Surely you cannot wish to remain weak and sick and dis
couraged, exhausted with each day’s w r ork. If you have some de
rangement of the feminine organism try Lydia E. Pinkham’s
Vegetable Compound. It will surely help you.
Mrs. Emilie Seering, 174 St. Ann’s Ave., New
York City, writes:
“ Dear Mrs. Pinkham: —lf women who are always blue depressed
and nervous would take Lydia E. Pinkliam’s
jgjlSgaSQ Vegetable Compound they would find it the medi
cine they need to bring them to a more cheerful
frame of mind. I was terribly worried and downcast,
and was thin and bloodless. My back ached all the
GgjjgPy time, no matter how hard I tried to forget lit or
change my position to ease it, and the pain at the
base of my brain was so bad that I sometimes
A fjW thought that I grow’ crazy; I had the blues so
much and was always so depressed I could not seem
>C to shake them off ; half of the time I did not seem to
have the coura £ e t° do my work ; everything
seemed to go wrong with me, and I was always
worrying and fearing the worst. I began to
J take Lydia E. Pinkham’s Vegetable Com
/.fj&k pound. After the first few doses a load seemed
7 f lifted from my shoulders, I felt better in every
1 wa y. The blues left me and my head stopped aching;
before lone my back was better too, and I looked younger and stronger I took
hnftlps in all and it is with thankfulness that I acknowledge that my
FREE MEDICAL ADVICE TO WOMEN.
If there is anything in your case about which you would like
special advice, write freely to Mrs. Pinkham. No man will see
your letter. She can surely help you, for no person in America has
such a wide experience in treating female ills as she has had. She
• has helped hundreds of thousands of women hack to health. Her
address is Lynn, Mass., and her advice is free. You are very fool
ish If you do not accept her kind invitation.
AAA FORFEIT If-we cannot forthwith produce the original letter and ■ignature ®f
Vhi 11111 Sir© testimonial, which will prove its absolute genuineness.
aUUUU' Lydia E. Pinkham Medicine Cos., Lynn,Mail,
SURE CURE FOR RHEUMATISM.
In This Case the Tomato Proved to
He Jout a* Good aa the
“I have been cured of rheumatism
rtrangely,” said a fat man, according to the
Philadelphia Record. “It happened in this
manner; “1 was groaning in my office the
other day when tne janitor of the building
entered and said:
“ ‘Are you ill, sir?' .
“ ‘Oh, I’m nearly crazy with rheumatism,'
“ ‘Well, sir,’ said he, ‘I tell you what you
do. Just you get a raw tomato and carry
it in your pocket and in a little while you
wiU be all right/
“I got the raw tomato, and I carried it.
and, by Jove, the rheumatism left me. So I
called in the janitor and made him a pres
ent of a box of good cigars.
“ ‘You cured me, William,’ 1 said to him
in a hearty voice. ‘With your raw tomato
you cured me entirely.’
“ ‘Raw tomato, sir?'says William. ‘Why,
sir, you misunderstood me. 1 ddn’t say
raw tomato. 1 said it was a raw potato that
you were to carry/ ”
Dropsy treated free by Dr. H. H. Green's
Sons, of Atlanta, Ga. The greatest dropsy
specialists in the world. Read their adver
tisement in another column of this paper.
“Well, bub, what is it?” asked the drug
gist of the small boy with & bottle in iua
"Please, sir, but here’s a medicine 1 got
for me mother an hour ago.”
“Yes, and what’s the matter with it?”
“You didn’t write on the bottle wheth
er it was to be taken eternally or infernally,
and she’s afraid of making a mistake, —.De
troit Tree Press.
Economy is the road to wealth. Putnam
Fadeless Dye is the road to economy-
It is not what a man thanks but whzf ha
thinks he thinks that determines his mea
tal status. —Judge.
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