The Bossier banner. [volume] (Bellevue, Bossier Parish, La.) 1859-1952, 1879-08-28
THE PARSONS HARD LUCK.

Nigh upon ~ years since you was In
these parts, amt it, stranger! Pre-
cisely Spring o. the year, too. Lay
locks was in bloom! Gurus how some
folks ketch holt o. little things an lay
'em up in their minds. NowI couldn't
ha' tole you whether it was laylocks or
sunfowers blowin' at thet pertikeler
time, though 1 do remember tcet ole
lack Humphreys was runnin' fer the
Legislator an got most consumedly beat
by them pesky Loky-fokys. Not to say
ole lack wasn't IS wuthless a cuss as
ever the Wing ticket boosted, but then
he was clar ole Liner, as was his dad
dy afore him, an it was shame to
Boone County to hev street out Hen
ry Clay Wing whipped like -.
Oh, ay! You mind about the lay
locks count o. castin' a sprig o. bios
SONS inter Rosy Bascom's grave? Yes.
Well, sure, do mind that circumstance
myself. Poor Rosy died the fust W elk
the little Parson settled down in these
parts. Yes, l mind goin' to fetch him
to talk to her, ies' at the last. But he
never got no chance AFTER all. She never
knowed him nor nobody, an he mout
as well ha' talked to the fence-post for
all the good poor Rosy got of It. Jest
his luck though. Jest his ornery luck.
Stranger, the little Parson thet's put
away over thar in yonder. bone-yard
was the onluckiest creetur that ever sot
l out in the soul-savin' dizziness.
Hey! You wouldn't ha' thought
yourself in such mighty hard luck ef
you'd found these here parts heather
an lief 'em Christian, as Parson did
Wen, stranger, eff may make so bold,
mout inquire whar was them heathens
you refer to in that las remark? Oh!
all them sabbath-breakin', goddess, ca
rousin' miners, an the tavern keeper
m his crew, m ali the res o. the pop
erlation o. this here deestrick tibet didn't
hev no meetin' house, nor Sunday
school, nor no other kind o. school,
nor no respeck for human rights, nor
LIE nuther, with one or two exceptions.
wen, stranger, eft them's the sort you
ar pleased to call heathens, why,
heathens it is-fer, sure enough, stran-
ger, them's the sort that poperlated this
deestrick nigh onter forty years ago.
An rough rastle they gave the little
Parson, an no mistake. Ill say It fer
him, though, that he stuck it out like q
major, fer all the luck was dead agin
nlm every jump; an he never
knuckled nur nuthin', even when
them shabby jakes from Coon Holler
yanked him out one dark night and
strung him up to hickory limb an let
on tney was a goin' ter hang him.
prosecute 'em? Him a prosecutin' !!
Stranger, ye weren't extry we'll &C
quainted with the little Parson, was We ?
Went ter college with him an knoWed
MN to be glorious fellerP Well, We
never knowed him ter take the law
o. nobody, did YEP thought as much.
NO, sir. Stranger, that little Parson
was all Gospil, every inch on him. Ma
ry scrip or scrap o. law went inter his
glttln' up. Prosecute! Why, stranger,
one o. them rough fellers slapped him
sac tne Jaw oncet. What dye think
ne doneF Ie see he'd been exhortin'
the teller bout leavin' off his keard
piayin', an bettin' on hoss.races an
sech, as was losin' game for him more
ways n one, Parson said; an he was
right, for Spunky Sam was dead
sure to lose every game, an his
folks was sufferin' fer bread an coffee
most times, an Parson many q
day sendin' of a boy up to
Sans shanty along with bacon
an corn-meal an SIGH, as he had
paid for outer his own pocket, which
goodness knows he hedn't no cali to do.
TOR he was barely able to keep soul an
body together hisself; but thar twas.
Jest his luck ter 60 an rub Spunky
Sans feathers all the wrong way. and
git his jaws slapped for his thanks.
Well, talk about prosecution. Stran-
ger, thar was Parsons chance. Every
teller in these here digeins would "a
backed him eff he'd drord 'volver on
Sam riOhf thor nj orokbo~ oo-% ~,