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Bob Curtis: River Drifter

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when I worked fer a sawmill over in Coosa. I was a teamster,
an' a damned good 'un. I drawed my grub from th' commissary,
an' me an' Christine got along fine. Th' kids begin comin'
along then, an' my oldest un was jes' a tiny tyke when th'
mill shet down. I hunted another teamster job, but thar
warn't none; then I come back to th' river. Off an' on, I
been up an' down th' thang ever since.

"Shore, I've monkeyed with 'shine. Who wouldn't when
hit brung in some cash money? But when th' county men started
gittin' wise t' me, I quit. I couldn't 'ford t' leave my
folks fer a jail stretch. Why, they'd never git along.

"Folks have been purty good t' us sometimes; givin' us
clothes an' th' sort, but I never axed fer anythang. I allus (margin: figgered)
thet th' Lord would take keer of thangs when they went too bad.
Leastways, Christine allus told me He would."

"You believe in religion?, " I asked.

"Yes, sir," he said, "I b'lieve in hit; leastways,
Christine has learned me t' believe. Yuh know, th' Good
Lord was int'rusted in fishermen. Christine read me 'bout
thet. He was pore, too, an' they nailed Him on a cross.
Sometimes I think that them who are pore an' hongry hyar
will be rich and fed in Heaven. Th' Book says, 'Blessed
air th' pore----'." He paused, for he could not complete
the beatitude.

I said quickly, "The Bible is full of comfort."
"Hit air," he agreed, and then he shook his head.
"I know thet I am full o' sin," he went on, "Thar air so
many temptashuns; but I'll git aroun' yit t' doin' decent.

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