Western Kansas world. [volume] (WaKeeney, Kan.) 1885-current, 1896-03-14
OLD RUSTY WHITE.
WALT MASON.

. there was husky granger anu
his name was Rusty White and he had
a farm near ESbon, if I've heard the
story right; he had cattle by the
dozen, he had hogs some seven score,
he had handsome covered buggieS, he
had neighIng nags galore; for
tune smiled upon the granger; all
his COWS were giving milk, all his hens
were laying daily, all his girls were
wearing silk. All his meadows were
productive, all his hills repaid his
toll and a blessing straight from
heaven seemed to rest upon his soil.
Other people looked with envy on
the things he had around, saying,
tBetter luck than Rusty's in the
world can not be found"
But an immigration agent hove
upon the scene one day, and he sheer
ed and hemmed and Snickered in
quite sardonic way; not with whole
some admiration was the bilious
agent fired, but he plainly intimated
that Kansas made him tired, and he
said that men were suckers who
would stay in such land, where the
wales were made of gumbO and the
hills were made of sand; where the
drOuth was always drOuthy and the
rain was hot and dry; where the
skies were never clOuded, but were
warm enough to fry. And he said he'd
be jimdaSted and kerfiummeXed if he
knew why the grangerS staid and suf-
fered where the cycling cyclones blew.
And he sang his song to Rusty every
time he had chance, and the latter
listened wildly to the dryish song and
dance; ind he swallowed all the
legends IS 4 Briton swallows ale, till
the comforts all about him and his
very home seemed stale.
"Come, !" exclaimed the willy agent
''to the southland, where the rain,
like \ gentle benediction, falls, re-
freshing on the plain; where the
large and crimson apples hang allur-
Ing on the bOugh. where the corn and
sweet potatoes never cease to thrive
or grow; where the winter is like
summer, void of frost and chilling
blast, and the spring is still more
charming when the winter time is
past. Fortune waits you in the
southland, wealth untod's at your
command; come and gather in your
treasures, leave this harsh and barren
land, leave this country where the
toiler does his weary task in vain:
leave this country where you never
see the color of rain"
Rusty sold his farm and cattle, sold
his bugges and his hogs, sold his hens
that laid so blithly, sold or gave away
his dog, and he started for the south
land, there to start his life anew;
there to gather in the treasures
which were scattered like the dew.
Oh, the balmy, sunny southland is
place of swamps and lakes, where
they breed two pound MOSQUITOES and
the smoothest sort of snakes, where
there have the southern ague till they
shake their molars loose, where the
women are web footed like the stately
northern goose; where the mistS and
reeking vaporS hide from Sight the
morning sun, where the zephyrs
breathe miaSma from the morn till
day is done; where the farmers live
in shantieS that would cause a COW to
TO blush, where the hills are fringed
with timber and the meanest kind of
brush; where the juicy crimson APP
pies grow, as truthfully they tell, and
fall rotton from the branches as the
farmer cannot sell; where the nags
are thin and Scrawny and the pork is
always tough. where the men have no
ambition, and the women live on
snuff; where the faces are all yellow
and the teeth are all decayed, and the
men are old at twenty if not in the
graveyard laid: where the dark color
ed brother is as frequent as the chills:
where the farmers live on credit ard
forget to pay their bills: where the
rain is long and dreary, sloushing
downward by the week, making lakes
of every river, making ponds of every
creek.
Poor old rusty ste cd it bravely for a
season, then he said: Il have only
one ambition, it's to see that agent
dead; though I'm broken down aud
weary, though I'm suffering and pale,
until I've run across him. iii he
camping on his trail"
On his weary search he started. like
Evangeline of old, broken down and
sore and weary, but determined, stern
and bold: all though Kansas and Da-
kota did he dog the agents track, till
he found him in Nebraska, where he
broke the agents back, caved his skull
in with a boulder. grubbe0 his tongue
out with hoe, and beside tall caGal-
pa laid the living Scoundrel low.
Now the hero of our story rents the
farm he used to own; every time he
fnrnS a flIrrOv nponla haar b;p, Ill,