St. Tammany farmer. [volume] (Covington, La.) 1874-current, 1907-12-21


In Juvenile depravity, lesson in
tabloided fiendishness. He's right
enough specifically, mind you, but
when you get at the soul of the boy,
your faith in the innocence and
harmlessness of juvenility generally
is gone for ever. 1t was last Christ
mas eve when I probed the depths OF
Master Putlow. I'll tell you in what
circumstances.
For very good reasons l wished to
secure freedom from Albert Sidney's
attentions on the evening in question.
/ felt somehow, that the task OF
asking his sister Nellie certain little
question would not be made easier in
any way by having her young broth
er buzzing round offering totregulate
my watch or exhibiting some home
made marvel in the clockwork mouse
line. Master Putlow, may tell you,
is prodigy in mechanical direction.
''Tll have none of him. thought l,
and during the afternoon l sent round,
with my best wishes for a happy
Christmas, a book calculated to keep
any other nine-year-old boy as quiet
as an oyster till each of its 240 pages
had been dog-eared as black as coal.
In the evening called round. Mel
lies father and mother were, as
expected, cut on a Santa Claus ex-
cursion to their married daughters.
"Albert's at his book, suppose?" / re-
marked. when I was asked into the
front room.
NO." said Nellie; "he's doing some
thing to Waterbury watch in the
back. Been busy all day. Look there"
pointing to an old-fashioned clock
fixed to the wall. He unearthed that
from the lumber room three days ago.
1t hasn't been going for ten years,
and he's cleaned it, put it in order,
and fixed it up as a surprise for dad.
It's going splendidly.''
Of course, I didn't mind little bit
about the book not claiming the boys
attention. So long al he was occu-
pied elsewhere I was perfectly salts
fed. We talked about nothing in par
ticular for five minutes; then / braced
myself for the ordeal Nellie was in
the rocker, and I on the saddlebag
lounge by her side. It was then or
never 'z
Nellie" I whispered, glancing at
my cuff, on which / had penciled my
headings. Nellie, have long"
"Whirr!"
She looked up, not at me, but at
the clock. ''It's going to strike" she
said.
"Bong!" The thing had a note like
Big Ben.
II have long"
'Bong!" Better jump in at the in
tervals,' thought I, for. anybody would
have needed a megaphone to make
himself heard above that din. long
felt that life"
"Bong!" isn't it splendid" Nellie
smiled
decided to wait until the awful
thing had finished. Bong! bong!
bong! bong! bong" At the eighth
stroke I gave sigh of relief and
started again.
81 have long"
"Bong!" That's one too many"
said Nellie. What were you say
ing?"
"Bong!"
was losing patience with that 1um-
Der room find. It occasioned me no
surprise that the clock was somewhat
erratic after Master Putlow's atten-
lions, but that is should seize just
that particular time to exhibit it's
vagaries annoyed me. Never mind"
I thought, "it can't strike more than
r."
had altogether underestimated its
capacities. When I had counted 81
whirrs and bongs, Nellie started
laughing. 1 walked to the door and
called to Albert Sidney.
He came, bringing an odor of clock
oil into the room.
Something's the matter with that
clocks striking gear" I said, with
forced calmness.
Been strikin' long?" he asked.
That's the thirty ninth time I an
swercd, as another "Bong!" set all
the mantel shelf ornaments dancing.
Albert Sidney whistled. "Thoaght
it might go like that" he grinned.
Good clocks often do 1t hasa't struck
for ten years, you see, and now it
won't stop till it's done all its back
striking"
Great Jupiter! A lightning calcu-
lation told me that, roughly speaking.
100000 bongs were overdue. Atfour
to the minute it would be some time
in April before that awful clock was
up-to-date. I'd the choice of yelling
out my proposal, lodging it in be-
tween the strokes, or of waiting for a
more favorable opportunity.
IL think I'll be going" I gasped
deciding on a postponement, and on
the seventy-eighth stroke. shook
hands with Nellie, glared murder at
her brother, and hurried off.
At the bottom of the stairs stop.
ped to shake my fist in The mechani-
cal prodigy's direction
you horrid boy!" l heard Nellie
say.
A howl came from Albert Sidney.
you're as big a chump as he was to
take in that tale about the thing
workin' off its back strikes" he said;
81 only fixed it to go like that for a
lark There! I've stopped it now.
Go and call him back if you want
him.
455
fed. The prospect Of Master Put
low as brotherin-laW was too awful