The Tupelo journal., 1904-10-07
NUMBER %

LII
been wanting someone to sha,e
with you your sympathy for the
yellow-green something's growing
in the pots at the feet of the king,
and here you know at glance is
the some one.
"Uncle," you say, with your
hand out to the old time colored
aristocrat, "this doesn't look nnch
like cotton, does it,"
| An uncertain tip to his hat bat
a very sure reply, "No ma'nm,
mistis, it sho don't. Not mnch
like cotton CROWN 'roun' Mem
phls."
"You are from Memphis, then?'
you say.
"Yessum, an half wistfrHl
ly-'' 'mistis, where's you FROM"
You tell him, and quick n, ii
flash two rows of white tech ap-
pear, an entire lift of his Sunday
hat, a barred gray head, geunr"-
plantation bow, and even il =
scrape of the foot that is all old
relic Of the South, rare one in
these new DAYS. 1t is so good 10
see it here.
Poor little cotton plants, gown
here in the dark of a walle Lin
house, roof bound in these pots,
starved for the lack OF food yon
need on the banks of a Southern
river, blind for the light, fr' .
for the heat of Southern Sn1
Poor little pitiful, unfortun -
plants, is there nothing one can tt -
to turn your yellow leaves to , ch,
dark green, to coax you to put
forth the gre IN, feathery SOU res,
the pretty, young cream OF your
blooms, your second-bes rp Il
blooms, your fat, green boII+, Our
fluffy, fieecy, open bolls? The
fates have been cruel to you, and
even Southern hand can't give
you lift on the road back to ven
lightful heritage "f Sont"cru
bloom and beauty.
"Why, here's George Md
there's Aunt Prlscyl | didn't k"ow
she was coming to the Fair" : ,ch
hearty, rich Southern tones Ms The
words are spoken in, such unS ell-
able words, so unpronounceahI.' by
any but Southern tongue. Inn
don't have to turn yonr head, but
you do, to know that they come
from the lips OF Il Southern pla Ter
Yes, that Is George, In his u--
checked cotton shirt, his gon to-
seed dusty, linty, Tapping wool
ha his rolled up pants, his r'g-
ged, shoes, just as he goes in his
cotton pickln' p" garb to pict In
his slouchy way. less than bum
dred pounds day. When he c'ril
pick 300 or more, if he did his
best. That is George, care tee,
careless, ungrateful, unmaIicI us,
ight-hearted George, who n-ser
looks farther into the futrr an
next Saturday evenin' - or xt
Sunday, at most.
That is George-only you ird
been thinking it was Horace or
ace of the classic name, and the an
classic cast of feature, of form. If
dress, of taste; Horace, Iight.h.
ed, light footed, "light- fnger-''"
son of Southern plantation soil,
who, us you know, comes fifth i'll
his line of blood of the work snirk-
ing, half-reliable, wholly falthlnl,
unexplainable servitors to five Inns
of your blood.
King Cotton's subjects aud conr-
tiers IN lines and types too long TO
count, and we miss one that we
know. Why isn't he here at the
right hand of the king! And where
would King Cotton be to- day with
out him and his patient plodding,
his provoking ways, his faithful,
untiring toll? He has p)owed the
long rows of stiff soil in the spriug,
has pulled the cotton planters that
dropped the seed into the warm,
moist soil; has plodded patiently
up and down across heat of the
field in the summer, has haul d
home to the cotton house in the
evening the days pickiugs; has
pulled the seed cotton to the gin
aud the cotton seed back from the
gin; has hauled the heavy bales to
the cars for shipment and WORKED
at all sorts of in between jobs vi Il
no sort of paw but his food ard
maybe a shelter and a sometimes
holiday down IN the canebrake with
a party Of his intimate enemies.
Is he, can he be ungratefnl, Kiug
Cotton, that he left at home his
most necessary subject, he of the
Tapping ears, the CLINT of the eye
that tells to the initiated the spirit,
the ''sense" in the brain beneath
There's touch of incompleteness
in cotton exhibit thas has not in-
cluded the plantation mule.
FLORENCE HILL FOSTER.
Lee County Preachers Meetin6.