The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1909-07-07
To Eat or Not to Eat.

To man who used 10 throw sack OF home
raised corn across the back OF a mule and ride
to mill, who returned with the meal and
grits hot from the rocks, who broke the same
corn pone into his butternilk and mixed the
same shucky grits with bis grsvy-to him
the sky looks bilious.
Science with her terrible test tubes and mi.
croscopes have discovered bugs! bugs tina,
wiggle into a mans 'corporosity" and hold
hiph carnival.
Years ago there was bug whose name was
something like Trichinae. For him we had
the greatest respect. We ate no raw meat fol
fear his Trichipaeic Majesty might pay US 8
visit. Now q brand new bug has been die.
covered in meat that makes trlchinae look
the shadow Of sunbeam.
Ptomaine Is the name of another genus
bug which is becoming more common every
day. Ptomalne is kind Of amphibious bug
he lives on meat or Ice cream or almost any.
thing good 10 eat.
MicroscoccI by the millions wabble abou,
In the water we drink, every one wearing an
indulgent smile, awaiting the opportunity tc
take an excursion down your "alamagooza
lem where he may build cities and dig
canals and accomplish things along the line
uf his own idea of Improvements.
And that good "old pone" corn bread, two
Inches thick with the prints OF mothers I'm
gers on top-that noble staff OF life, so sweet
so satisfying, over which the melted butter
used 10 pour golden stream over silver
bed-the bread that would meiamorphose
buttermilk Into ambrosia, the thoughts o.
ich made Us double-Quick when the din.
ner horn blast reverbe1ated among the dan
cling fairiet-it. too, now nurses a bug in III
golden crumbs. Etu, Brute! Oh. how hard
II Ia to give up the golden granular gift OF the
gods, In the warm breast OF the present
"pone" turks monster OF frlghtful mien
Can II be SO? This erstwhile solace OF child
hood, this one oasis in the desert. offspring
fare, is 1t TO be taken from US? "If you have
tears, prepare to shed them now." Pelsgrt
has pinched our bread.
No more may you sit on the meal-sack on
the way from mill and dream OF mush anc
milk. The micrococci is abroad in the land
be has made corn meal headquarters, whenc'
he directs his horrible manuevers. Alas, tha
'falr Science ever frowned on my "humbl'
birth," and showed me these mlcrococci II
tee ming miilions ready to devour!
Melancholy marks me for her own as biz
adieu TO the old "corn pone," my prop ant
stay OF youth, and tears gather TO dim N!
eyes as'I look on the pufted array OF break
fast foods as they shine out In glitterinl
boxes. The old dun.colored meal sack pos
sesses more beauty than all the pufred.ul
brea k fast foods that glitter and glisten AM
glimmer In all their painted vanity hold
" BY the piper that played before Moses" In
Presbyt erIan, and Science shall not shackl
me with her "shants." Come on, old cor
dodger, we have gone side by side from tn
the time of tin cups. pewter spoons ant
checked aprons until now, and will not de
sert you when science throws its fois abou
you and claims you as victim.
"An' o! my 'Pone,'
My Jewel, my 'Pone'
Wha wadna be happy
Wi Good Corn Pone'?
; A. pleasure exile me.
Diehonor defile me.
II e'er beguie thee,
My old Corn Pone.'"