St. Tammany farmer. [volume] (Covington, La.) 1874-current, 1897-05-08

Il
| little note book
| @~ ~ wherein / some
| n. times write tn Z
names Of people
that had their umbrellas up when the
good Lord was rainin brains and COM
mon sense upon the human family, and
Tony Lambert's name amt written
there. You can take the measure of a
youngster on his ways and his looks
stake him like the hair stands" as tho
horse men are wont to say-and then
you can lean back and look proud and
wise and KNOWN like and tell me what
manner of a man he will be. And hen
I will believe not blamed thing you
say.
Give the Boy . Chance.
Mind you now. never have set forth
and maintained that Tony Lambert
amt fool. But il takes whole lot
Of various and sundry different sorts of
fools to make a world. and III! be eter-
nally garmcl up if we haven't got
'em.
In the next place will own up that
Tony Lambert is fool to some extent.
Anybody can look at the way he combs
his hair and wears his clothes and see
that the poor boy has got rale bad
ease of it. He is the onlyest son of the
Widder I.ambert-which they lived on
their little farm over there in the hill
country. Now, even to the widder, she
don't seem to think that every blessed
thing which Tony does is extry bright
and smart, and for a general thing
when one of these good old womanly
mothers can see any soft spots or weak
pints about her own and onlyest son.
you can bet your free silver that the
boy is a fool.
But at the same time Tony Lambert
amt fool for the want of brains. lie
is fool for the lack of common, every
day sense. The good Lord has done
a gracious plenty for that boy, and
from all l can see and hear ana pick up
in the case, he has got the materials in
him for the maxim of man by-and-by.
The world and old lady Experience will
have to finish up the joo. They mought
make man. and they mought make
mess Of it. In the main time am willin
more than willin-to wait and watch
and see. When Tony Lambert comes
to be grown-up man, settled and sot
in all his ways-if he is still food I
will give up the fight and take it all
back and feel sorry that ! didn't say
more. But right along now-in this
pleasant springtime-I am bound to
e. hov In &c n
yet, and he will grow-for better or Tor
worse. Give him time. He is likewise
also fresh-most unanimously fresh.
But the kicks and cuffs of the naughty
world and the salt of time. may save
him yet. Give the boy chance.
"a Cryin and . Cusstn.~
Well do l recollect the time when
people talked about Jim Crittenden
the same as they do now in regards
to Tony Lambert. ybcdy-exccpt-
in old Misses Crittenden-used to say
that Jim was fool. But finally at last
in the run of time Jim he recovered
and got we'll.
The first time ever saw that boy Jim
Crittenden was over at the Turner ford
on Panther creek. The Crittendens had
then fresh moved into the settlement.
and Jim was q one-gallusted piney-
woods boy, with yellow legs and q
freckly face and pale brindle hair. In
them days il the high sheriff had took
out papers of compliment and searched
the country far and wide to find hard
er lookin case than Jim Crittenden, /
raley do not see how he ever could Of
win the case.
Anyhow, it would seem like the old
mornin with his OK cart and load of
pine wood to sell. It was a warm day
in the spring of the year, and when 1
driv up to the Panther Creek bridge
that unhappy boy was hunkered down
there on the banks Of that historic
stream cussin and . cryin to beat six
bits. It looks like the oxen had
made break and run on of the bridge
into the creek, turned the wagon over
and smashed one wheel into kindlin
wood, whilst the load of pine doated
off down stream.
''What are you doin here. Bud?" says
l.
"Jest a cussin and cryin," says Jim.
BY this time had took in the whole
circumference at the sad surroundins.
swell. what are you goin to do about
it. Bud?" says I.
''Do about it?" says he. "What in the
blue blazes can I do about it except TO
jest keep on cussin and cryin?"
Naturally Of course couldn't mend
the breaks and pick up the pieces. My
heart bled for that long--ufferin boy
which you understand had been over
the same ground my own rusty SELF
but what could I do, and what did I
do? Nothin. only give him two bits
and my pocket knife, and then rid on
and left him hunkered down there on
the muddy banks Of Panther creck-''a
cussin and cryin."
But one by one the days and weeks
and years went by, and then oncst more
I met up with Jim Crittenden right
there on the banks Of Panther creek.
The people around in the settlements
had got up big fishin frolic and picnic
down there It the bridge, and that
boy Jim he was there, with every foot
mp and coat tails a-Ayin. BY this time
he was psssin out Of childhood and boy
hood into manhood. and l took par-I
ticlar notice that he was tremendius
polite and handy and proniscps around
amongst the ribbons ard the calico.
At noontirns some Of The oh men put
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