RESIDENTS OF HAW POINT COMMUNITY

Crowley Signal Sept 14, 1901

Mr. William Clavie, had been seen among our people, looking spry as you like since his recent illness.

Mrs. Sarah Sloane, of Lake Charles, was taken quite ill several days since.

Mr. Arthur Hanan, a prominent and thriving planter residing south of Church Point, was in our community on business this week.

Mr. Boy Lavergne, one of St. Landry’s hustling young cotton planters, passed through here a couple of days ago wending his way towards that place where we all go when our hearts are sad and we are wearied by the domestic cares and household burdens – Church Point.

Last Sunday eve on the green grass in the shade of our umbrella China, three good citizens, Aroste,  Martin and another, sat around an inverted soap box with a pack of greasy cards whiling the hours away with high, low, Jack and game, unruffled by political agitations; unmoved by ambition; unreproved by conscience; peace and contentment brooded over these last three as it seldom broods in life.

The cards they deal

With so much zeal.

The gulf breezes blow o’er prairie vast

So slow they play

The gambler’s way

The insects rustle through the grass

Now settling down

The darkest round

Drives them from out the damp night air

The game is done

The wiser one

Man’s life is prone to risk and dare.

Many years ago on our broad prairies few French people were scattered along the borders in the coves an in the shadows of the great forest, the people were happy and temperate people. Every well-to-do gent had his keg of liquor stored away in the cellar and when his neighbors dropped in the “smiles” were had and all was well. To drink to imbecility was to cause a little shock to those sober-going people.  Little brown jugs were more popular than now, but drunken bums were as scarce as hen’s teeth. But our people have changed with the times and to get a flask of red-eye in each pocket, muster up a lot of false courage, get on a drunken tear, chunk sticks on a good old lady’s gallery, abuse her dog and make the night hideous is the proper caper with some of our rising generation. High license does not check it, why?

The home influences the precepts of parents, characters improperly molded, are the agents that undo the good work of our parish ordinances. Water from a foul spring will be foul though it flows o’er a gem carpeted bed and is curved and inclosed with emerald shores of the purest marble. Another cause that is working a destiny for our youths: The failure of womanhood to place the proper estimate on herself that will demand men and untarnished manhood and not depraved inebriates to approach sphere.

Our highly thought of citizen, Ms. Jeanise, prominent in Haw Point, went to Opelousas the other day. Of course he got boozy like most any other good citizen of this place would have done after going so far in the hot sun. It went bad to worse and he finally and reluctantly left town and his nag made tracks for home. He stumbled over a forlorn looking quadruped mounted it, bridleless and saddleless and rode.  Swinging from side to sid to the other by action of the gentle wind he was overtaken by two chaps in a buggy, taken back to town and locked and barred within the ghostly walls – accused of horse stealing.  Sweet songs and sweet birds and sweet flowers, have lost all their sweetness for him.  He is now out on bail and sighs and:---

He can never forget the anguish

Of a bitter wounded pride

As he stood within the prison walls

With a Marshall by his side

I am indebted to an old poem I once came across to the following poetical lines that is counsel worthy the considering:

Oh that very fair faced girl in this rim-cursed land

Would say. “I will ne’er give my heart

Nor my hand

Unto one I have ever great reason to think

Would touch just one drop of the poisonous drink,”

And say when she wooed, “I’m a foe to the wine

And the lips that touch liquor shall never touch mine.