The Panola weekly star. (Sardis, Miss.) 1882-18??, 1884-09-20
Ros, Les.

DEAN Youso Forks
"Goosey, Goosey Gandcr,
Where did you wander p"
Beg pardon, Mr.. Bonetto, but in the
s~language Of our nursery rhymes we are
"glad awfully' to sec you back. In the
name OF goodness, how do you expect us
TO answer such wil-o'-the-wisp questionsq
We now have them on the griddlc trying
to turn first one and then the other, but
have despaired Of making anything out
OF them. Now, sir, ] have learned three
very bad habits to frown, scratch my
head and bite my ingernails, for which
! hold you responsible. As Bill Arp
says, at is n thrillin time Of the year
with US when we think Of losing u
"thimbleful' Of your caressiEg esteem,
but il can't be helped. We have met
with cunning, industrious little spiders
before, who tried to weave Il web around
the innocent fly. Good evening, sir
Good Mr.. Caleb, excuse the cutting re-
marks OF that unfortunate little ice-crcam
lassic, who, perhaps, in a moment OF
excitement, forgot that we naturally ex-
poet sympathy and delicacy from "thc
sweet lights Of creation" She will doubt
less meet you next time with such Il
saucy, sweet, apologize smile, that you
will risk turning over another saucer Of
icc-cream to see the wholly, delightful
change. Rosa Lee, | am sorry the dark
angel Of mistrust has so warped your
pure young heart. II Is to be hoped
your life will yet be EAST in scones where
II different type Of boyhood will pass
before and impress your vision. Why
you say ! believe in flattery is a problem
! am unable to understand. In imagina-
ton | see Buck Brogan with his ''sidc-
tilted hat" lying In the middle Of the
floor and his cuffs turned back, trying
10 "unburden his soul" to you, and can
hear u high-keyed voice exclaiIn, "Tut,
tut, young man, arise you are n fraud
and the truth IL not in you | wish ma
laria, pestilenoc, war or famine would rid
the world Of the last 'kith and kin OF
you humbugging icllowsl' Billy, how
glad We are TO welcome you! Let us
shake your dear, honest brown hand.
What would become Of us II we did not
have u skilful farmers to guide the
plow through the mellow earth We
would like TO see that little pomgranatc
head nesting under that big clrt.wheel
hat. Remember Gods pure air and sun
shine develops the brain, and that you
and Young Arab are the divine materials
out Of which Presidents are made.
Should Rosa Lee get n grab ut your sor-
rel wig just let us know. Oh, yes Little
Tommie, | will be your pet" | have
no brother and am Just getting at the age
to love every sisters brother anil moth.
er's-son -of.them. Just listen at that
slang Paterfamilias would shake his
head and say, "wherc did you learn such
Language, my daugliter1" II Is not Gle.
CANT, Little Tommie, but quite aesthetic,
and means | like the whole 'capoodle" oi
them. There ! 10 again how cultivated
We are growing. Well, after three
months Of solid enjoyment, We find our.
selves Juggling at our books. striving TO
stow away a feast u knowlcdge-bui
space crowds me. Louie responds TO my
last In his own inimitablc style, and
holds US spcll.bound II not check-matcd.
Milcote, We are glad your barque has
loated to it, moorings again. For weeks,
oh, Nc would not like 10 count them, we
have missed your happy letters; be true
TO yourself and don't desert the column.
I%nielix, yotif letter VAS a pleasant sur.
prise you write smoothly and ioyously,
like a happy, ~iun-loying girl, and think
we shall be great friends Aud, now. Let
us trace tcndorly a few sad lines. Death
has entered our Joyous column, and
claimed one Of our brightest members.
Dear sallie, though ours but a few short
weeks, yc, we felt your gentle influence
and when the writer warmly welcomed
and alluded 10 your beautiful character
she little knew your lids would %
soon be closed over those dark bright
eyes. We can but raise a heartfelt val
and cry, Oh. Father tighten this bitter
blow and drop mercy from above IN hei
stricken ianily. Farewell, dear salliel
FAST asleep in Gods own bosom,
We vi.l leave you 10 bis care;
Our earth-bad blooms in Heaven,
Mongst the angels bright and fair.
There they guari our winning jewel,
We are left awhile 20 weep,
Mourning for our broken circle,
For q darling, fast asleep
West End, Sept 5. NELLY By.