‘A gentle afternoon rain was falling as his funeral procession left the house a house which he had built, and moved down the road between fields of cotton. The cotton fields, his and his tenants, were clean of grass and well advanced in growth. The silent rain made them look their best and seemingly beg for their master’s approval as he moved by for the last time. This he would not have otherwise, for he had always liked to look at good crops of cotton, especially if they were his. One of his keenest joys was to show his “brag” patches to visitors, and all the patches seemed to be “brag” patches today, and there were more visitors than ever…he had lived hard and in his own view had deserved all his fields, if not more.’
-Herman Clarence Nixon, Possum Trot (via Sarah Newman Shouse’s (1986) book ‘Hillbilly Realist Herman Clarence Nixon of Possum Trot’.)
