St. Tammany farmer. [volume] (Covington, La.) 1874-current, 1884-09-13
For Young Readers.
TOM BROWNS FREEDOM.

TON BROWNS FREEDOM
Tom Brown was an urchin just eight sum-
mers old.
But the heart Of the wee little man was as
As If he were twice that age,
And his muscles were strong and his blue
eyes were bright
As bird let loose from its cage.
Now Tom had been reading, rs every boy
should.
OF the glorious deeds of the brave and the
OF Washington. Warren and Lee:
And the Fourth of Juiy-it was now near at
hand
Was the day the glad sound had rung out
through the land:
I'VE are free. we are free, we are free.''
Now Tom got to thinking how grand it would
Like the patriot heroes ne loved to he free
Twas too bad to toe kept SO Mt home.
There were lots OF nice boys in the streets Just
And they had such good times. He did wish
And the wide world along with them roam.
Then all of a sudden, one morning in bed,
A brilliant idea popped right into his head,
And he laughed out aloud in his glee;
On the Fourth OF July. ut the breaking OF day.
when Liberty triumphci. he'd up and away.
To dwell independent and free.
Slipped out through the gate on that Fourth
of July,
And thus was he EARNED and equipped:
Three packs of tifc-crackers, long stick OF
punk.
huge slice of gingerbread. plenty of
And a dime in his hand tightly grippea.
Our hero marched on through the din and the
heat,
Till he entered at last. by mere chance a side
Were a crowd of rough boys were at play.
Twas tenement quarter. low, dirty anu
And the rabble of gumins. Manufactured and
keen,
Were keeping 1.-THE Fourth" in their way.
All. those sharp-witted Arabs. how quickly
tkev knew
What sort of boy Tom was. Around him they
And to chan him began "Hullo, Bub.
Does yer mar know yc're outy' "where'd ye
git yer nice clio esq!
"oh, amt he a daisy."-so the hooking talk
SAY. give us hunk o yer grub"
In ii,,y his packs of firc-crackers were
His pockets we're rifed. his gingerbread
And his can clothes were all in a muss.
like fright,
And shonted in giee at his pitisul plight:
Now sonny. ye're like one of us
But Tom had the spirit of seventy six"
And finding himself In SO sorry n nix.
Struck out like man, might and main.
But the battle was sOrely unequal: in spite
OF his stout little fists and high courage. the
fight
Must nave proved in the end all in vain.
Just then rose a cry: Cops a-comin'!' Away
Sped the feet-footed Arabs like night before
dav,
And Tom stood alone in the street
Look a-here. you young s,amp-Oh. are you
Tommy Brown?
I'm in luck Why, the whole force is scourin
And here you are, right on my beat."
Poor Tom! What pitiful SIGHT to behold
Was he-not n hit like his 'heroes of old
As homeward he limPed. sad and sore.
His face was all swollen, his right arm was
His jacket was torn and despatched with dirt.
And he'd ne'er felt so wretched before.
And when. a warm bath and poulties ap-
He lay In his bed his dear mother beside.
Tom droNsly said: Now see:
It may have been good for the heroes of old
TO be free. for they were men, mighty and
But it isn't good thing for me-
mo. Tom." said bis mother, 'mistaken again.
True freedom is good both for boys and for
As your heroes mine-clearly saw:
But they knew-and the truth is worth learn
The freedom that's good for us all to enjoy
-ThOmds Oukcs Condnt, in Harper's Young
PcoWc.