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outhouse about 150 feet beyond the house. We walked back to the front
porch, and seated ourselves in one of the old, unpainted and weather-beat-
en rocking chairs.

"The younguns ain't home now," he explained, "they're off to school.
I'm alone. So bein there warn't no business at the store, I jest been
hoein in the garden. It was good time I was gettin to them beans, cabbages
and okra, they shore needed it. That's how come you to find me there. I
gotta another piece over back of them pines in yonder, but the land ain't
any good; I jest don't seem to have the luck farmin here to what I had in
Alabama. I always made a pretty fair livin there till the last few years
before we come here. But it seem that everythin has gone wrong in money
matter now, for a long time."

We talked along on general economic conditions, then reverted back
to his own problems.

"Anne and me was both born in Geneva County, Alabama, and lived right
near each others farms. I'm 45 now and she's 37, or I'm thinkin that's
what she is. I never can keep up with dates and ages exactly; seems like
it takes a woman fer that anyway.

"We both learned to farm and our fathers both raised lots of corn
and cotton. We married back in 1919, and I think it was then that we come
to Florida for the first time and looked around the place. We heerd
they was some fine farmin land down around Lake Okeechobee in the muck,
but we didn't get no further when we seen this place. I jest up and
bought it. It was all jest pine land when we first come. We didn't like
it much though, and Anne was homesick all the time so we went back home
and farmed up there for a while.
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