St. Landry democrat., 1884-10-18
A College Man Who Did Not Redeem u
Community.

A man who had farm for sale went
into the Office of a country editor, and
after introducing the sub, ect-matter of
his call, said:
Mister, [ am powerful scarce O.
money an KANT pay you right now,
but if you'll wait till after the farm is
sold. why can pay you for the adver-
tisement them
81 have proposition which l think
will strike you as being fair" replied
the editor after moments reflection.
SNOW, I'll put IN a double column ad.
and run it for year. You needn't
pay any money-no cash demanded,
for at the end of the year I'll take the
farm in payment for the advertise
ment. Then, you see, you will have
advertised and disposed of your farm
without expense
THAT strikes me as being little
perculiar, said the farmer. EThar's
'rithmetic in it somewhat, but l kahn t
| see it, reckon I'd better see my wife
afore | go inter any sorter engagements.
Jest wait here please"
he editor chuclked over his shrewd-
ness and laughed IN anticipation of the
farmers astonlshment when an ex-
PLANTATION of the scheme should be
made. 'I'll show him. the editor
unused, shat it is not every mans de-
sire to impose on the farmer. Then I'll
put in small ad. and won't charge
anything"
While the editor was thus musing,
the farmer re-entered the office. He
carried long black whip, and in his
eye there danced an expression whose
fantastic capers BODIED no good tor the
newspaper man.
what did your wife say?" asked
the editor, glancing neryously at the
whip.
''She lowed it wuz fust-rate trade,
but afore we IDENTIFY ourselves in the
great business O. this heah life, jis' step
out here an let me give you better
idec o who am. Oh, don't hang back.
! am the man that bit the punkin through
the crack o. the fence; yes, an that
amt all. | am the son o. Zion that
swallowed scorpion an then slapped
the bark off a beech tree. Oh, come out
here!''
Il wasn't going to cheat you!" de-
clared the editor. Il was merely jok-
ing. In moment more / was going
to explain and have good laugh with
you. don't want to hurt you
don be Uneasy on that pint, Mr.
Newspaper man, fur [ don't low that
you shall hurt me. Come out here an
dance to the music o the whippoor-
will"
The editor saw that the visitor was
possessed of that tantalizing determine
ton which wears trown under smile.
Something must be done. Should he
quietly submit to a whipping, names
would crawl of his subscription list
like caterpi.lers crawling from the
shade when the AIR grows chilly. To
defend himself would be, positively
dangerous, for the old fellow would
turn the butt end of the whip. The
editor stood near small window. He
thought how easy it would be to hop
out if the sash were only raised, but
how painful it might be to raise the
sash. ! he farmer face glowed with
satisfaction. He laughed with the glee
of delighted child. The editor could
stand it no longer. He leaped through
the window, carrying the sash with
him. He heard the fiery crack of the
whip, and not exactly with the speed
of the antelope for the editor was
rather fat but with movement that
was not slow, the journalist went
through the village. The people
shouted. Men threw up their hands
and whooped, and women had to lean
against door-facings Tor support. The
editor, after passing through the
village, stopped long enough for some
one to remove the sash, then he resumed
his solitary way. He did not go hack
aga n. He was college graduate who,
a lew months ago, Went to the village
to redeem the community ana cast a
mellow glow over the world.--ArkG2s.
SCAR Traveller
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