Good Enough for Paw

Years ago the State of Louisiana used to employ a special agent whose business it was to travel continually throughout the rural districts of the state, calling on the farmers and giving them expert advice and assistance in the tilling of the soil, and the production of the best crops' He was a thoroughly practical man who was prepared at all time to inquire into the situation of a farmer, get thc facts and conditions surrourding his particular case, and then furnish him expert assistance in improving his farm' This specialist traveled the highways and the byways of Louisiana stopping wherever he seemed to be needed'

Now in.Louisiana there are mighty plantations and farms of. the finest type and character. And there are likewisc the exact opposite in the shape of farms; little, poorly kept' desolate looking places testifying to the inefficiency an{ laziness of the owner. The people who live in these broken-down farm lots and jusl barely exist are generally reierred to as "nesters." They lack most of the things that go to make human success.

And it was at such a place that this traveling farm Grpert stopped one day. The fences were sagging, and buildings were little more than' wrecks, unpainted, badly repaired' The house was just a blackened, weather-beaten shack, with broken windows stufred with straw, and all the outward indications of poverty, laziness, and utter lack of human ambition were manifesl And the man who came orit on the porch in answer to the hail of the State Agricqltural Agent was completely in keeping with the house and surroundings. Unkempt, unshaven, dirty, patched, his overalls upheld by a single "gallus" and a nail for a button in front, he was the picture of dejection. But he was good natured, and perfectly willing to answer questions. Just listless, drawling, hoPeless.

"How much land you got here?" asked the State Agent, after explaining his identity and business.

"Bout forty acres," replied the Nester.

"flow much have you got in cultivation?"

"Nigh onto bout thirteen acres," was the reply.

"The rest of it seems to be heavily wooded," said the State Agent.

The nester lowed as how it was unusudly heavy with small timber.

"Isn't there a market for cordwood in the town over yonder?" asked the State Agent.

The Nester said there was every fall, at good prices.

"'Where did you get this farm?" was the next question.

"Paw left it to me when he died."

"\trlhy don't you clear the rest of your lend, and plmt itP

"I don't tnow, stratrger. My paw madc a livin' ofi tEa here thirtecn acres for thirty yearE."

"But if you can makc a li"iog off thirtcco acrcr' scc hm well you could do witb forty acres cultivatcd7'

"I guess you're right, atrangcr, but I tlcho whet wrr good enough fer paw ir good cnough fcr tnc."

'Why don't you fit up your hourc? It loolr rcady to ' fdl down "

"V/ell, stranger, it ain't very fnc, but Paw livcd in tht house fer thirty years, and what's good coough fcr per ir good enough fer me."

"Are you married?"

"No, stranger, f ain't never been marricd-"

"Now look herc," said the St te Agcot. 'Tou't! loolin3 at this thing dl wrong: You havc red poadbihdcl keThis is rich land. It has madc a living for you rnd tour father. You can clear the rect of your lln4 and th rood will pay the bill so tte clearing wotl't coet tou r 6L You can save enough rails to fix your feuccc 6lrc. Your fta. will bring you in something worth whitc tbcn- You Cm take the proceeds and 6: yoursclf up a dcccot bonc to llvc in, and improve your conditioa in wcry pocciblc rry. Why don't you do tha! and malc something of ymfau and of yourself. Then you can Earry amc good toom' and be happy, and make somettring of younctf. Why dm't you do that?"

"'Well, stranger," mused tte sad one. "I reclon youtre right about all that, BUT IIY PAW LMD AIiID DIED A BATCHELOR AND \[|HAT WAS GOOD ENOUGH FER PAW IS GOOD ENOUGH FER UE."