The Tent Revival Preacher

We got this ole fish hawk, some people call him a osprey. He sits high in this pecan tree on the banks of Harper Lake and every now and then he gets hungry and goes circling high above the water until he sets his eye on his dinner. Then he dives straight down, as straight as the part in Bobby Jones' hair, and hits the water with a slap like somebody swung down with a 2 by 6 board. He seems to always come up with a good size fish and flies to the same limb each time--not the one where he sits all day--and eats up that fish.
Now the sound he makes when he hits the water is like the slap to my soul when this tent revival preacher come to town and tore my heart to pieces.
This preacher, Rev. Jerry Truman, stayed for about a week, took up a slew of collections, and had a bunch of the women in town slobbering all over themselves. He warn't all that good looking but he had a kind of draw, don't you know. Even the men dropped all the money they could spare in his plates. At the end of the week he took down his tent, packed up his stuff and left town and Trixie left with him. Tomorrow I'm gonna tell you what Trixie said to me before she left.