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THE STARKVILLE NEWS.
VOLUME IV. THE RUSTLIN’ OF THE CORN. When the harvest sun’s a-sMMn’ On the haycocks newly made. An’ the shorthorns in the pinscher Are a-standin’ in the shade; When the latest dingin’ cherries On the old Morello trees Furnish plckin’s for the catbirds Now to forage as they please; When T hear the g,.ls a-laughin* All up and down the rows. Of the stragglin’ old worm fences Where the blackberry grows, An’ 1 ketch the distant dronin’ Of the Junebug s summer horn, There's another sound comes with li lt's the rustlin’ of the corn. Jest a-follerin’ up the furrer An’ a-turnin’ on the track. With the level tops a-wavin’ Nearly hidin’ Dobbin’s back; For it's been a for’ard season. An’ this plowin’ lays it by. Am we’re ready for the outin’ On the fourth day of July. For I planted It In April, When the white-o leaf was small <Twas my daddy’s way before me. An’ I'vc- found it best of all): An’ ine days are long for hoein’, When you start at peep of mori^ But yer heart is light an’ callin’ For the rustlin’ of the corn. It’s a mighty time for dreamin’ When the corn is growin' fair. When the long, green leaves are whisperln To the quiver in the air— Whisperin’, whisperin', to old Dobbin, Till he's creepin’, half asleep, feein' visions of the winter And the corncrib's seller heap. Bet that's Sallie Fester laughin’— Next time round is Dobbin's rest — Jest a dat in’ me to .line 'em— Dreamin's line, but knowin’s best; An’ I’ll answer to her callin’ Sweeter than the birds at morn — It’s the only music better Than the rustlin’ cf the corn. —L. R. Laws, in Louisville Courier-Journal. Mattie Hunter’s Confession^ By R. R. ENGLE MATTIE had a fiery temper, but that was her worst fault. When she married Marsh Hunter, peo ple opened their eyes in wonder, and said: “She’ll make his life a warm business lor him.” But Mattie thought differently. “I’ll show them what a triumph love will work. I’ll teach them I’m not the vixen I seem,” and so she married him. The wedding was a very pleasant af fair-something to look back upon as long as they lived. Mattie looked very sweet in her white Swiss muslin and ap ple blossoms. Her jetty curls trembled and shone in the brilliant lamplight; her eyes sparkled like twin stars, and her soft cheeks were mantled in softer blushes as she leaned trustingly on the strong arm of the stalwart man who was to be her guard and guide through life. The honeymoon was rich with the pleasures of new-married life to the humble pair; but the time soon came when the bride must leave the old root tree for the untried realities of a home of her own. That was the first sorrow— the trial of leaving home and mother — but it was fleeting, for in the excitement of “setting up” housekeeping in the white cottage on Squire Blackburn’s farm, the little sorrow was drowned. It was very funny, and Marsh laughed, ami Mattie laughed, when just they two sat down to the little new' table and ate from the new* dishes on the new cloth the wholesome viands prepared by Mat tie’s own hands and cooked on the new stove. Everything new* and strange ly sw’eet. Everything went on nicely, and Mat ;ie was triumphant. But all things earth ly must change. Happiness does not come unalloyed. The weather grew warm and the kitchen, hot. and one of the hottest days of the season Mattie had a distressing headache, and the sup per must be ready at five o’clock. Mat tie tried to get it ready, but burnt the bread in the oven. Then she looked at the clock, and saw it had stopped, and looking out at the door she saw Marsh w ashing his w arm face and hands in the •water trough. “Is supper ready?” he asked, and she blurted outsomething. and they had their first quarrel! Oh, dear me, the first quar rel! How sorry it made the sick little woman. But Marsh looked sullen, and went off to the field without kissing her. They never talked that quarrel over, simply because each was too proud to broach the subject. After that quarrels came oftener and easier. They did not mean to quarrel, but somehow angry words would come up. After awhile a little boy came to their household, and it ftKOied for a month or two a good deal like me weli-remem bered honeymoon; but Mattie’s wretched temper would fly to pieces again, and the happiness was spoiled. “It’s curious we can’t get along with out so much quarreling,” said Marsh, one winter day. after he had just put on a heavy “back log.” Mattie felt thq tears in her eyes in a moment, and her heart softened toward Marsh, and she w as about to confess her failings and ask his forgiveness, when he continued; “It is all your hateful temper, Mattie; you know it is.” That was enough; and what ws meant to be a reconciliation was simply anoth er quarrel. “Oh. dear pic; It is my wretched tem per—l hnow r it is,” sobbed Mattie, after Harsh went out; “but he needn’t have said so.” “If I only wasn’t so blunt,” said Marsh to himself, with a sign, as he sauntered toward the stable. So t hings went from bad to worse. Lit tle mistakes were magnified into ter rible wrongs. The neighbors had their fill of gossip about the matter; and final ly one day, when Marsh went away, Mat tie thought the thing over. “I am a wretched little nuisance,” she said, mentally “1 don’t know why 1 am so, either but I can’t help it!” she said, despairingly, her lips quivering, and her eyes filling with tears. “I’ve a great mind to take Needie and go home, and stay there. My unhappiness couldn’t be great er than it is.” She clasped the baby close in her arms, and the big tears fell fast on his curly head. Her heart seemed bursting with in her. but she wrapped the child in her shawl, and with quickening step she fled the place and hurried across the snow'-covered fields to her mother's. “What’s the matter, child?” asked her mother, as Mattie, pale and shivering, ap peared at the door. “Don't ask me, mother,” sobbed the wretched little woman, “You haven’t left home?” “Yes. mother; ’•^ever!” “Don’t say that to me! You shall go right back this instant! ” said her mother, thinking of the scandal that was sure to fallow such a proceeding. “Oh. don’t mother! ” and Mattie looked the picture of despair. “Tell me about it, my child!” said the mother, melted into tenderness by that look. Then Mattie, through her tears, told her mother all. and ended with these piti ful words: “But. oh, mother, I love him, the father of my child —I love him, but he doesn’t understand me. If he could but understand me!” and she fell sobbing beside her mother’s knee. * “Let me advise you. my child,” said the mother, softly stroking her daughter s glossy hair. “I’ve passed through it all. and I’ll tell you a little secret. It is al most certain that little mistakes will come up between husband and wife, and often w r ords are spoken that are regret ted a moment afterw r ard. But. my child, suen a word can do not harm, if it is re pented of and confession made. If you have said anything to wound your hus band’s feelings, no matter w'hat he may have said to you, go and tell him you are sorry, and I insure it. he will not only forgive you, but will beg you to forgive him. The hour that follow's will be more delightful than the hour of your wed ding. Let me tell you of a little instance in my own life;” and the mother told her of one of those little family differ ences that come up between so many worthy couples. The story ended so pleasantly that It soothed the tempest in the breast of the heartsick daughter. After the story was done. Mattie still kneeled, resting her tired head on her mother’s knee. Her mother stroked the glossy hair in silence for a quarter of an hour; but Mattie’s thoughts were busy. Suddenly she arose, took her child in her arms, wrapped it close in her shawl, and prepared to go. “Where are you going, my child?” asked her mother. “To make my confession.” answ’ered Mattie, through her tears. “Heaven bless you!” said her mother, with deep emotion. When Marsh Hunter came home that night a pretty scene met his view’. The fire w r as burning joyously on the hearth, and before it stood Mattie, dressed in a neat calico wrapper with snow r y collar and cuffs, and a scarlet bow of ribbon at her throat. Baby sat on his pallet before the fire, crowing lustily and beating the floor with a tin rattle. Supper was on the table, and the tea was steaming on the hearth. Marsh was cold, but such a scene warmed him. He went straight to the pallet and commenced a romp w ith baby. Mattie went and knelt there, too. deter mined to make her confession; but she did not know how to commence. It was STARKVILLE, MISS., FRIDAY, MAY 26, 1905. easy to think of before hand, but when the time came she was lost. There was an awkward pause; then both spoke at once. “Mattie, I’ve been-—” “Marsh, I’m sorry—” Their eyes met, and each saw the ten derness in those of the other, and afe. was told in an instant. Both had made theirconfession. Marsh opened hisarmu, and Mattie fell sobbing on his breast, while baby looked on in amazement. “Mother told the truth,” she said; “it would be better than the wedding.” whis pered Mattie. “Have you seen her?” Did she tell you the same she told me?” cried Marsh. “I don’t believe 1 want any supper to night, do you?” said Mattie, after they had had their talk, and the supper had become cold. “I guess I’ll drink a little tea,” said Marsh, and he did. —N. Y. Weekly. ABOUT COMPRESSED TEA. Much Used by Russian Officers in Manchuria—How It Is Prepared. “Compressed tea is common enough in Siberia, but so far as 1 know.” says a writer, “an unknown commodity in this country. It is an ordinary black tea, which is very widely used by the Buriats of the Transbaikal region, by whom the herb thus prepared is drunk, flavored with salt and sour cream. Sugar would be preferred, of course, hut it is either unattainable or too high-priced, costing, as it does, from 75 cents to one dollar a pound. The compressed tea used by the Russian officers in Manchuria is rendered hard by superb modern machinery. Such has been the pressure employed that the formerly soft and yielding leaves assume the appearance of a hard tile, which can with difficulty be cut with a knife. Asa general rule, a mallet or hammer is used to break off a piece very much as if the tablet were of stone. “Suchong tea is used to make the of ficial compressed tea. It needs no cream because nature has given it a slightly creamy taste, and also one that is feebly saccharine, so that it re quires less sugar than other teas. In flavor this compressed tea cannot be compared with the natural herb. It if ranch flatter in taste, but possesses the same stimulating properties. A piece the size of a thimble is sufficient for s large, strong cup. No teapot is neces sary, Scalding water is poured on the nugget in the cup, and in a few min utes the tea is ready. “No cementing agent whatever if used in compressing high-grade teas— not even sugared water nor artifleia heat. A tablet thus compressed may be exposed to soaking rains with little danger of injury. Asa general rule, however, compressed tea is kept il worsted bags. The official Russian compressed tea is not obtainable in Europe outside of Russia,” CHILD ‘ REUNITES A FAMILY. Boy of Five Writes Letter for Miss ing Father, Who Sends for Wife and Son. Marion, Ind.—Jerry Davis, a member of the Marion police department, w r ho was suspended about a year ago, after charges of intoxication had been filed against him, has been united with his family through a letter written by his five-year-old son. Davis left Marion and his wife and two sons to escape a police board trial. He failed to write home, but early last December the younger son, Jerry, Jr., aged five years, wrote a letter to the edi tor of the Commoner and Glassworker, a trade journal that his father had al ways taken. The letter was published, but the father failed to learn of it until recently. He immediately sent his wife sufficient money to care for her for some time and enough to pay the expenses of the two boys. Lawrence, aged eight, and Jerry, to Port Allegheny, Pa., where he is employed at his trade of a glasswork er. Mrs. Davis and the two toys have gone to Port Allegheny. Very Useful. “Dear me!” said the lady from upper flat. “Where did you get aP that soil for your flower pots?” “Oh, we always wash our Florida strawberries,” replied the lady from the lower flat, # “and I just save the wa ter.”—Chicago Daily News. Impervious to Smiles. There are three classes of people who are quite impervious to the value of a smile. These are railway porters, drivers of four-wheeled cabs, and om nibus conductors. London Coming Modes. NAMED BY THE SETTLERS. Towns, Rivers and Lakes Bear Title* Bestowed by Pioneers of Re spective Sections. Most of the states of the Mississippi valley, besides countless rivers and lakes in all parts of the country, bear Indian names, but a small number only of the towns, which are the work of the whites, have adopted names borrowed from the aborigines. No one in ten of the 150 large cities has an Indian name, says Mr. R. H. Whit beck, in the National Geographic Mag azine, and among those which have, it is usually a case of adoption from some neighboring lake or stream. The explorers and early settlers also have left their racial marks. Up the Hud son and Mohawk the, trail of the Dutchman is infinitely established. The French influence in northern New York and Vermont and along the line of the great lakes shows itself in many familiar names. Mississippi has no “saints” in its gazeteer, whereas across the river, Louisiana, by nine parishes and two-score towns, rivers and lakes, thus perpetuated the religious ideas of its early settlers. Kentucky and Ten nessee show the vocabulary of the hunter and trapper; Montana and Ida ho that of the miner. All the region acquired from Mexico, particularly southern California, keeps alive in its place-names the memory of its Span ish explorers and settlers. There are relatively few Indian names on the Pacific coast. North of the Spanish belt capes and towns often reflect tho loyalty of early settlers to the older slates of the union. ON THE ORIGIN OF SLANG. A Few Familiar Expressions from Which Some of It May Hava Taken Rise. “Here’s where I butt in,” said the goat, making for the children, accord ing to the New York Sun. “I’m getting it in the neck.” grum bled the bull, as Ursus gave him an other twist. “Come off your perch,” growled tab by, making another spring at the cage. “I’m In the soup,” gasped the oys ter, as he dropped to the bottom of the plate. “You’re u bird,” said the fox, as he gobbled up another hen. “Don’t try to string me.” saJd the rattler to the blacksnake, coiling him self into a plumbing. “It’s a lead pipe cinch,” said the rat, gnawing his way through another piece of pipe. “I’ve got the drop on you,” shrieked the hawk, as he landed on another chicken. “Things are coming my way,” said the bear, dodging another bullet. “My goose is cooked,” said the wild gander, dropping to the ground with a broken wing. “Quit your kidding,” exch.imed the fish, as the bait dropped into the wa ter. “Those fellows are nutty,” said the rabbit, pointing to Hie squirrel family eating lunch. “Stuck again,” cried the fly, alight ing on the sticky paper. “I can see my finish,” murmured the lamb as he entered the slaughter pen. Queer Trades. The trade of tooth stainer, followed in eastern Asia, is as odd a calling as any. The natives prefer black teeth to the whiter kind, and the tooth stainer. with a little box of brushes and coloring mat ter, calls on his customers and stain* their teeth. The process is not unlike that of blacking a boot, for a fine polish is given to the teeth. Tho pigment used is quite harmless. In Arabia the trade of “gossiper” has many followers. The “gossiper” collects all the news, tittle tattle, jokes and stories he can get hold of and then goes from house to house retailing them. If he his a good man ner and can adapt his recitals to his audiences, he makes a fair income.— Chicago Tribune. The Dressy Dominican. The Dominican often wears a broad belt, into which he slicks a long knife, a big revolver and as many cartridges as it will hold. The c*.rtridges may not fit the revolver, but that doesn’t matter, the outfit is for show, not for use. He wears them as some men up north wear a-big diamond stud and a heavy double watchchain. It is his dress-up costume. He has never been known to use either revolver or knife 0:1 i visiting stranger, and uses them on hi * fellows only when drunk or jealous. Highway robbery is unknown in city q/ country,—Boa ton Transcript NUMBER 11. COLUMNS OF HORSESHOES. Curious and Appropriate Sign Erected by a Western Black smith. In the town of Fort Collins, Col., the Tillage blacksmith has created a curiouj but very appropriate sign. In fact, it represents not only his industry, but the many years in which lia has been engaged in it, says the Scientific Amer ican. On either side of the entrance to the shop are pillars, which rise several feet above the roof. From a distance they resemble box trees with the branches slosely cut, to give them an ornamental appearance. Asa matter of fact, the columns are composed of discarded horseshoes. As each is fully 30 feet in height and five feet in diameter, a faint conception may be obtained of the im mense number of shoes utilized in con structing them, for each column was built up by laying the shoes one upon the other with their flat sides in con tact. Through the center of each col umn runs a w r ooden post, and the novel structure has been formed by wiring the shoes to it. The construction of the sign was be gun when the shop was opened for busi ness. The columns have become too heavy to be increased in height, and are anchored by iron bands to the walls ol the building. RAISES SNAPPING TURTLES Farm in New Jersey Where the Rep tiles Are Carefully Nurtured for Market. New r Jersey boasts of the biggest snapper farm in the world, that grows the biggest snappers that ever pad died about in a muddy creek. The farm is at Tuckerton, says the Phila delphia North American. In a shipment of snappers sent from the farm and received in this city recently were several thaT were as large as the top of a small tub, and that weighed considerably more than 50 pounds. They were consigned to a dealer at Front and Spruce streets, and he sold them all before noon. No other kind of flesh, fish or fowl is said to find so ready a market at this sea son as snappers. The turtles are very carefully nursed at the farm where they are raised. All are marked in infancy, and a record of their ages is kept. Some chefs like yearling snappers, others prefer them two, three, or even five years old, w'hile others like the tender young ones of about six or eight months. The yearlings are said to make the best soup, and-a good big one will make enough of it to serve a banquet. COAXER FOR THE WAITER. Diner Tips with One-Half of a Dollar Note, Intending to Return. To a man giving a dinner in a Times Square restaurant the other night the w aiter was not as prompt as he might have been about the initial course. In stead of reprimanding him, relates the New York Times, the host took a one dollar bill, cut it in two with a pen knife and gave one half to the aston ished waiter. The other half he put back in his pocket. Not quite sure whether the remainder of the note was coming to him later, the waiter was efficiency itself for the remainder of the meal. That over, the host coolly led his guests into the street. “Pardon my curiosity,” said one of them, “but what are you going to do with the half of that dollar bill? It is as useless to you as the waiter’s is to him.” “Not a bit of it,” was the reply. “I intend dining in the same place to morrow and I shall make it a point to get that same waiter. I shall let him see that I still have tho remainder of his dollar bill, and I’ll bet you the cigars he will hustle to get it.” Have Quit Cheating. If anything, we women are in these days overscrupulous. principally owing to the fact that feminine honor has in the past been frequently the subject of masculine gibes. Women w r ere former ly commonly supposed and generally allowed to cheat at croquet, a privi leged they shared with curates; and in games where money changed hands while the winnings were invariably sanded over 10 them, they were never expected to pay when they lost, Ot course, w r e have changed all that U* dav. —Ladies’ Field. 1