THE STARKVILLE NEWS.
VOLUME 11.
A WESTERN SHOWER.
Good rainfall hre? Wal, purty fair.
We reckon that we git our share.
Sometimes It’s moist. Last month, one day,
When I was haulin’ in my hay.
Along bout noon it started in
A-llghtnin’ an’ a-thunderin*.
The clouds piled up so blurk an’ high.
’Twas jest all clouds; ther’ wa’n’t no sky.
We heard a rumblin' an’ a roar.
An’ then the rain began ter pour.
1 hollered out ter Jim, my son.
Ter lower the muzzle of his gun—
He took it out ter shoot a bird—
I hollered, but he never heard.
It rained Into that muzzle slch.
It split the blame’ thing at the breech.
My cabin stood on rlsln’ ground;
The flood came roarin’ all around.
It bust the fastenin’s of the door.
Then riz an’ filled the lower floor.
It poured into the chimney-scat.
An* squirted up three hundred feet—
I’m keerful not to overstate—
The pressure there, you see, was great.
Oh, it was damp, I tell you, pard.
We had a barrel in the yard;
The bung an’ both the ends were out.
That barrel was a w aterspout.
It rained into that bung, my friends.
Faster’n 't could run out both ends.
1 like ter see a man exact.
An' stick ter truth an’ solid fact;
An’ so I tell folks, fair an’ square.
The rainfall here is purty fair.
—Byron F, Marsh, in Youth’s Companion.
I THE SUPREME I
SACRIFICE * I
By MARGARET DE LONG. §
O
(Copyright, 1903. by Paily Story Cub. Cos.)
** H. NO, madam. 1 could not give
II you my child, not even —-no, not
cveu. though I know you could do many
things for him that 1 could not that
1 never can,” and the quick drawn
breaths, and the scarlet spots on the
cheeks of the pretty Italian woman
told of the fullness of the mother
heart,
“He is all I have now. he and the baby
sister, but he puts* the gladness into
my heart, as it was when 1 was a girl,
he gives to me again in his laughing
eyes, my home. My own Italy, my
sunshine and lluwers, and I am young
again with my Bernardo and my baby
Maso. and oh, so happy, and the t rouble
and the black clouds, 1 forget them
when my boy is with me.'
And then she broke down and the
tears came in a downpour.
It was a strange scene —the two
women in that tiny, neat back room
over one of the stores on Desplaines
street. It was the Italian part of the
city, and very poor were all who lived
there. The tall and beautifully clad
woman in the soft dress and the long
rich cloak, looked a creature of an
other world, as in reality she was. She
rose quickly and impulsively placed
both her small gloved hands on the
shoulders of the little Italian mother.
“Oh, don’t do that,” she said. “1 can’t
bear to leave you. 1 did not mean to
hurt you, but you know 1 love the boy,
too, very much, and —and he has tal
ents, and I would love to do for him
as if he were my ow n, and he could live
all the time in that dear country which
he loves so well, with the trees and
the hills.
She looked out of the window and
spoke again, softly, as if to herself —
“And you know I shall never have
one of ray own —a little child, to love.”
The other woman raised her head
quickly.
“Ah, I am sorry —so sorry for you
—but you have so much, you are so
rich, you can buy anything you wish
—I have only my boy—that is why God
sent him to me,”
The tall fair woman sighed gently
and turning away, she said, “Yes, that
is why he sent him to you and not to
me. Good bye. If you should ever feel
differently, if yv>ur boy should need a
friend, you will not forget me?”
“Icould notdo that,” spoke the other
woman simply.
There were tears in both the black
and the blue eyes as the tall, soft
gowned woman kissed the round baby
cheek and clasped the mother’s hand.
Down the narrow stair and to her
waiting carriage she walked, and only
her eyes bent upon the ground before
her gave token of her bitter disappoint
ment. But up in that little room the
mother drew a sigh of relief as the car
riage rolled away.
The labor which the poor woman
had sold to the rich one had brought
them together, and then the boy, a
child of rare beauty and unusual sweet
ness, had been from the first a strong
bond.
Maso and his little mother saw no
more of their “beautiful lady,” as they
called her, for she had gone far away
for the winter.
“Do you think I will ever see the
country, mother, and* those fields
where the tall grass waves, and the
flowers grow, and the dark woods-are?
1 would like to, mother,” he would say,
in earnest tones and with his black
eyes shining- brightly.
And she would laugh and kis* the
boy and say they would go there some
day, surely. But after he was asleep
the tears would come, and she would
look at her two chubby hands, rough
with hard work and shake her head,
saying: ‘‘Only bread can I get for my
M aso —no country, no flowers. Ah, if
only my Bernardo had lived he might
have had these things he loves so
much.” And then she would think of
the rjch woman's offer, but never with
a thought of giving up her boy.
But one dreadful winter day a
trouble which seemed to paralyze her
heart with terror came to the little
mother. They brought her boy into
her from the street, where he had been
playing, and he looked so white and
limp, her heart stood still. But no, lie
w as not dead, they said, but he had been
hurt; a horse, a heavy wagon, the
wheels had gone over his body, and he
was stunned and insensible.
The good and kind doctor who min
istered to ail the poor ones in the dis
trict came in haste, and after examin
ing over and over the apparently life
less little body, gave to the poor moth
er and the anxious friends who were
with her, his opinion.
Yes. he thought the boy would live,
lie might get well, but he could never
be right, he feared, he never could
walk again. There was an injury to the
spine—the spinal cord was affected by
it. There was little hope that he could
ever be right. Yes, there was one hope,
just one. There was a great doctor
and he was in this city now, who per
formed a very wonderful operation in
such cases, and had cured many, who
almost never failed. But , and the
good man hesitated to go on. as if he
did not want to say what he thought
next.
“But what, what is it,” cried half a
dozen voices, and the mother s pale
face and anxious eyes besought him.
with more eloquence than words, to
spea k.
“It cost-s,” he said slowly, “a great
deal of money.”
The cruel force of the words he had
hesitated to speak came home to them
all. Money, a great deal of money,
and they, if they had but their daily
bread were, perforce, satisfied, if not
content.
The gall and wormwood in the
thought were not new to their taste.
# It was no new thought to think that
if little Maso was a rich man’s boy he
could get well, but now, he must take
his chances of life as fate might deal
them out.
Gradually the people who had tilled
to overflowing the little room dis
persed, and gradually the sobs of the
poor mother became quieter, and the
numbness that succeeds mental agony
was a respite to her.
And then the instinct which nature
planted deeper than all others in
human hearts, eaipe to her help the
mother instinct to do something, -to
tight on still, for her child, for his life.
And as she turned her thoughts now
in t his-direct ion. now in, that, of a siid"-
den the thought of rescue sure and cer
tain came to her.
The beautiful lady—she had said to
remember her* if the boy needed a
friend, and now. and she glanced at.
the little still form on the bed, lie
FISH COME. WHEN CALLED.
Cartons Species Brought hy n \evr
York Naturalist to This Coun
try from Asia.
Otto Kggeling. a naturalist of New
York, has finally succeeded in import
ing from Asia the first specimens of the
curious fish known as the anabes ever
brought to this country, says the
Times,
The special peculiarity of the anabes,
which inhabits the streams of interior
India, is that it travels for miles on
land in search of water when the
streams are dried up.
Lovers of aquariums have for years
endeavored to secure specimens of this
fish, but without success, as they al
ways died in transit, especially when
in the vicinity of the Suez canal, ow
ing to the intense heat.
Mr. Eggeling conceived the idea of
placing the fish in earthenware vessels,
containing a sufficient quantity of
water-soaked earth, and two months
ago he corresponded with friends in
India, who secured several fine speci
mens and shipped them. The fish ar
rived last week, and when the earthen
ware pots were opened, the earth
therein was found perfectly dry and
the fish were in a lifeless state. Several
hours after being placed in water, how-
STARKVILLE, MISS., FRIDAY, MAY 22, 1903.
needed one. he needed what her two
hands could not get for him.
The lady loved him and had asked
his mother to give him to her and s-ho
had refused to do it then. But now
yes, she won Id go and tell her about
him, and if he could be made w ell again
she would give him up, she would give
him to the other woman for her own,
always.
She went quickly to prepare for her
journey across t he big city, and, as she
always did when trouble came to her,
she knelt for a moment in the little
room at her shrine, a rosary and a
plaster image of the mother who had
given her son to save all mankind from
suffering. No words moved her lips,
her prayer, like her grief, was too
deep for w ords. Only in her heart were
the words, “Mother of God, help me,
help me.”
And so she w r ent out. into the busy,
noisy, jostling strets; going to her su
preme sacrifice.
And so on the next day little Maso
was carried away, lying white and still
as he had been since his terrible hdrt,
in the hospital ambulance, and after a
month there he was taken into the
country- to his new home, which w-ould
finish the successful work begun by the
great doctor, and make the roses to
bloom in the pale cheeks and the bright
ness to come again into those dark
eyes.
The two little rooms over the store
on Desplaines street were quiet now.
No noisy boy’s shoes came tramping up
and down the stairs, countless times a
clay. No loud and happy voice calling
to mother. No boy’s caps and toys
to make the rooms always disorderly.
Ah, no, only a quiet, little mother, cry
ing out her grief to her baby. Waking
each morning to try and bear bravely
her burden, which seemed too heavy
for her, each night going to her rest
with a heart yearning for her boy, and
a prayer to the Holy Mother to make
him well and strong and keep him safe
from harm.
And so the weary days dragged into
months and ihe chill fall days came.
Almost a year since the day he had gone
away and she had not se him since,
though several letters had told her of
his fine recovery.
She had lost her plumpness and her
cheeks were not rosy now-. There was
a look in her face that told of suffer
ing. long and unrelenting suffering, and
a pa lor like that of ill health, that
comes to those who have ceased to
smile and to be happy. She sat hold
ing her baby to her bosom one day*, aa
she sat every day now.
Oh, how still it was. Always so quiet
now. Alway sto be just this quiet way,
for he was gone. But hark! that sound
is like his step. How many times she
has seemed to hear it. just as now. But
it is a step, it comes to the door, and
ves, she almost holds her breath, the
door opens and it is in truth her boy,
her little Maso. The sweet smile is in
his eyes as ever, but there is a tremor
about the lips.
He walks straight to her arms and
for a few minutes no sound is heard
in that bare little room. Then the boy
says;
“Oh, mother, it was so beautiful. The
country is more beautiful than you
can think of, but —you see —” with a
manly- attempt to smile, and a boyish
tugging at the button on bis cap, “I
—I thought 1 would come bock.. I like
the country, but there wasn’t any you
there.”
ever, they came to life, and are now aa
well as e\er.
These fish are beautifully- marked,
and when the light strikes them at cer
tain angles their whole bodies assume
all the colors of the rainbow. They av
erage about, two and one-half inches in
length, and, unlike other fish, breathe
through the lungs instead of the gills,
thus enabling them to live on land.
It is said that the anabes can be
tamed as any domestic animal, and
come when called to, earing food out
of one’s hand. These fish have what
might be called “craw lers” oa the low
er part of their bodies, thus enabling
them to travel over land.
She Needs the Money.
“I wonder if all women are fickle?*•
asked the old bachelor.
“If they are all like my wife they
are,” replied the man with the hair
less pate. “I’m afraid to leave my
money- in my pockets at night, owing
to her fondness for change.”
Victim of His Wealth.
Wealth proved |he ruin of a young
man in Lorraine. A relative left him
100,000 francs. Fearing that he would
lose the money, he always carried it
with him. In a few weeks he became
insane, made a fire of the Often ami
then blew out his hraiaa*
PEOPLE AND EVENTS.
The bishop of London has no fewer
than 142 livings in his gift. There are
altogether 570 benefices in the dio
cese, and 1,147 clergy.
A bronze tablet was recently un
veiled in the German hospital of Phil
adelphia, in memory of John D.
Lankenau, the philanthropist, who
for 30 years was president of the in
stitution.
At the present rate the British gov
ernment soon will cease to be Eng
lish. It will be composed of Scots
men and Irishmen. The present
prime minister is a Scot; so is the
leader of the opposition, the chan
cellor of the exchequer, the attorney
general and the secretary of the
board of trade. The lord chancellor,
the solicitor general, the secretary
for India, the foreign secretary, the
war secretary and the chief secre
tary for Ireland —all are Irishmen. .
Joseph Jefferson once had a sort of
valet or factotum who was fairly sat
isfactory except that he drank. -No
one could ever catch him taking a
nip, however, and William always
swore solemnly that he was a teeto
taler. One day Jefferson saw' him
staggering into the house by a side
door. He sent for the man and said
severely: “William, do you now deny
that you are drunk?” With accus
tomed earnestness the man answered:
“Miz’ Jeff’son, Pm worse’ll that. I’m
drunk’s a lord.” In telling this story
Jefferson says: “Now, what could I
do? William proved himself a truth
ful man. He was with me for years
after that.”
The lord provost of Glasgow, whose
office corresponds with that of mayor
in this country, told at a dinner re
cently how he was “tipped” by an
American sightseer. A party of tour
ists from the United States were
viewing the splendid municipal cham
bers in Glasgow ami were especially
enthusiastic about the great marble,
staircase. The lord provost happened
to *pass and offered to guide them
about. While doing so he gave them
some interesting information about
the rise and grow'th of his interesting
city. As he was leaving one of the
Americans quietly slipped a half dol
lar into his hand. The prOvost had
not recovered from his amused as
tonishment until the Americans left
the building
THE MEN WHO TOIL.
There are 142 union barber shops
in Indianapolis, Ind.
lowa records show'. 720 local unions
in the state, with a membership of
45,000.
Unemployed union members in the
British government engineering
trades were recently estimated at
6.6 per cent.
During 1902 33,695 men were em
ployed in the mines of New South
Wales, Australia, as compared with
36,615 men in 1901.
The annual report of the Inspector
General of the British army, which
aas just been issued, confirms many
previvous statements that the phys
ique of the British working class,
from which the bulk of the recruits
must always be drawn, is deteriorat
ing. \
Three hundred newsboys met re
cently at Toronto, Canada, to form a
union. They propose to protect them
selves against increase in the price
of papers, cutting of rates, etc. The
boys will wear a union button, and
will serve notice on various news
papers that boys who cannot produce
the badge must not be served.
ODDS AND ENDS.
The chemical forces are nearer
akin to the vital forces than to the
physical forces.
An offer has been made by the
Hamilton and Lake Erie Power com
pany to the mayor of Toronto to de
liver 30,000 horse-power of electrical
energy in Toronto at S2O per horse
power per year.
With an iron .wire telephonic con
versation cannot be carried on at a
distance exceeding 250 miles; but
with a compound wire, consisting of
a steel core surrounded by copper, it
can be carried on very well over a
distance of 1,000 miles.
Sweden’s railway department re
ports that the experiments in thv
substitution of peat for English
steam coal on locomotives have
proved a success. The best results
have been obtained by mixing pe&t
with coal. Such mixed fuel will
fore be gradually introduced onUhe
Swedish railways and a great
try be created in the country*
NUMBER 10.
THEY SIT ON THRONES,
Tfae king of Denmark, who 85
years old, i one of ten children,, of
whom three survive. The average
age of the ten is nearly 71. The tote
queen was one of five who averaged:
65 years. Their descendants occupy
or will fjceupy the thrones of Great
Britain, Russia, Denmark, Greece and
Baden.
The shah of Persia does not wish
the public to feast their eyes on ther
beauty of his wives. When his nu
merous spouses go- out for a ride oir
a stroll, a troop of attendants
cede them at a distance of a few hun
dred feet, shouting*. ‘‘Rum and hide
yourselves!” Pedestrians and aLL
others then scamper indoors.
Victor Emmanuel of Italy is quite
a little fellow, but more than once he
has shown himself to be a man of
dauntless courage. At one time whea
holding the rank of colonel in a regi
ment of artillery he was interested
with the testing of anew cannon. He
proceeded to the trial field accompan
ied by several officers of rank and the
inventor. At the first shot the huge
engine of destruction exploded near
the breech with a terrible crash and
the panic-stricken men fled precipi
tately. Not so Victor Emmanuel, who
did not stir an inch, but, turning with
an amused smile to the frightened
officers, reassured them chaffinglyri
“No danger now, gentlemen,” he said
calmly: “‘you should have fled before
the explosion.”
Prominent among the king of Por
tugal’s varied tastes is an English
passion for sports of all kinds and it
is known that once when duke of
Braga a/u he entered the ring to face
a bull “with points unbated;” that
is to say, not padded, as is generally
the case in Portugal as distinguished
from Spain. One of the ladies of the
court had dared the duke to face a
bull with its horns unguarded and so
he entered the arena in the Spanish
manner —incognito, though every one
knew who the bold banderillo was.
Unfortunately the duke slipped and
fell. but. starting up before the bull
could charge again, he ran for the
barricade and cleared it at a bound
just, a moment or two before the in
furiated animal splintered the wood
work with its horns.
EQUESTRIAN STATUES.
Gen. Andrew Jackson’s statue in
Lafayette Square, Washington, is the
oldest equestrian statue now standing
in the United States.
The first equestrian statue erected
in the New World, which still stands,
is a colossal statue of Charles IV of
Spain, in the city of Mexico.
South American cities have many
equestrian statues, but the most no
table is that of Bolivar, the Venezue
lan liberator, which has a prominent
place in one of the parks of Caracas,
The first of such statues erected in
the western hemisphere was one of
George 111 of England, which was
placed in Bowling Green, New York,
in 1770. It stood for six years, when
it was destroyed by soldiers and pa
triotic citizens.
The first movement to erect an
equestrian statue to Gen. Washington
was inaugurated in the continental
congress in 1783. The first one, how
ever, was not erected until 1860, and
was designed by Clark Mills, and
stands in Washington Circle, at the
national capital.
The only women to have equestrian
statues erected to their memories are
Queen Victoria, Maria Theresa and
Jeanne d’Arc. The most notable
statue erected to the latter is in Par
is, but there is a very beautiful one
at the Girard avenue entrance
Falrmount park.
CURTAIN CALLS.
All the boxes in the Imperial opera
house, Vienna, have just been renum
bered because no one would use those
numbered ”13.”
Seats are dearer at the Paris opera
house than in any other European cap
ital, in spite of the fact that the state
gives the building rent free, and an
annual subvention of £32,000. >
Emile Waldteufel, the waltz writer,
though an old man, still composes a
large amount of dance music. Over 800
waltzes, polkas, mazurkas and other
dances have been written and pub
lished by M. Waldteufel.
It is said that Patti wrote to an
American song writer asking fora new
ballad. In prompt response he sent
?her a copy of his latest composition,
which bears the spmewhat apposite
-titlesf “The Last Farewell.” ..