The Bolivar bulletin. (Bolivar, Tenn.) 1888-1946, 1897-05-07
Tlme of Year TO Cuss.

L
On horseback and riding acrost the
| piney woods country of east Texas
where they have red hills and sandbeds
and shade trees and spring branches
and poor land and good water in the
| greatest plenty-everything was so
natural and homely looking till it was a
most magnolious and happy day to me.
\ Soon that mornin, when | rid out of the
/ broad, bleak prairies and struck a ra,e
skirt of woods for the first time in three
months-man sir. / was so tremendous
| glad till blamed if l didn't dismount
and git down and hug large and love-
ly pine tree.
Late along in the shank of the evenin
double pen log house. A man come
tearin out of the clearin and hailed me
in the big road.
Don't you want job, stranger? p
| says he, talkiu fast and excited like.
81 am willin to pay you anything in rea-
son-whatever mought be right for
your time and trouble, and if you are
a rale peart hand at the business you
can soon turn off the job"
81 am a stranger in strange land,
with a long road ahead and no money
to mention, and 1 wouldn't mind turnin
few honest plunkers if it come handy
says I.
"How are you on cussin?" says he.
"Only very few" says L. Eat homI
they tell it around that 1 am the most
handiest man in the settlement. But
to speak the plain Bible truth, 1 am
somewhat ruther awkward and nothin
to brag on when it comes to cussin.'
Then you amt the man am looking
for. What want and what need most
hellatious bad at this particular time of
year is n man that has been fetched up
cussin and trained for the business
man that can cuss in all the latest
fashions and fling in the hot stuff thick
and fast and furious. l am what you
mought call right tolerable good hand
at cussin my own rusty self, but the
terrible circumference of the present
calamity is jest simply too much for
me. I can't sorter half way do the sub
ject justice. Iwould love the best in the
world to hire a good, swift hand at the
business and give him the job"
Maybe it amt none of my business,
but what seems to be the trouble ?"
says I.
Nobody knows what trouble is but
me, stranger" the man responded back
as the sun went down behind a heavy
bank of clouds. "Only last week some
ugly scoundrel beast put out pizen and
killed my three hound dogs-the finest
and the fastest that ever followed
trail in the lone state of Texas. Night
before last my mule took sick and died,
and right on top of that my old woman
took and sloped off this mornin and run
away with foot peddler. So here 1
am-with my dogs and my mule dead,
and the old woman gone-with seven
children and four COWS, and nobody to
do a durn thing-troubles on top of
troubles - troubles comm in great
chunks and gobs and slices. If | could
but only find the right man to take holt
and cuss out the human race, and cuss
out creation in general, seems to me
like might feel whole lot better. I
have tried my hand faithful and hit the
high places, and scorched the air about
in patches. But plain, blunt man like
me is as helpless as baby under the
sad surroundins of the present case"
What did I do? What could I do?
Nothin much to speak of. 1 told the
unhappy man to brace up as best he
could and wait till the clouds rolled by.
Then rid on and left him alone in his
troubles.