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Age not guaranteed---Some I have told lor 20 ycars---Some Less

Good Enough For Pow

A state agricultural agent, whose business it is to call on the smaller type of farmers in a state in the Old South, giving advice and agricultural assistance to the poorer tillers of"the soil, stopped one day at an unusually decrepit looking place.

The fences were sagging, and buildings were little more than wrecks, unpainted, badly repa.ired. The house was just a blackened, weather-beaten shack, with broken windows stuffed with straw, and all the outward indications of poverty, laziness, and utter lack of human ambition were manifest. And the man who came out on the porch in answer to the hail of the State Agricultural 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.

"IIow 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 unusually 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."

"Why don't you clear the rest of your land, and plant it?"

"I don't know, stranger. My Paw made a livin' off this here thirteen acres for thiry years."

"Bdt if you can make a living off thirteen acres, see how well you could do with forty acres cultivated?"

"I guess you're right, stranger, but I reckon what was good enough for Paw is good enough fer me."

"\fiy'hy don't you fix up your house? It looks ready to fall down."

"Well, stranger, it ain't very fine, but Paw lived in that house fer thirty years, and what's good enough fer Paw is good enough fer me."

"Are you married?"

"No. stranger, I ain't never been married."

"Now look here," said the State Agent; "You're looking at this thing atl wrong. You have real possibilities here. This is rich land. It has made a living for you and your father. You can clean the rest of your land, and the wood will pay the bill so the clearing won't cost you a cent. You can save enough rails to fix your fences fine. Your farm will bring you in something worth while then' You can take the proceeds and fix yourself up a decent home to live in, and improve your condition in every possibly way. Why don't you do that, and make something of your farrn and of yourself. Then you can marry some good woman' and be happy, and make something of yourself. Why don't you do that?"

"Well, stranger," mused the sad one. "I reckon you're right about all that, BUT MY PAW LIVED AND DIED A BACHELOR AND WHAT WAS GOOD ENOUGH FER PAW IS GOOD ENOUGH FER ME.''