“I came down here to find a son whose mother was worrited about him,” Rasba began at the beginning. “I ’lowed likely if I could find Jock it’d please his mammy, an’ perhaps make her a little happier. And Jock ’lowed he’d better go back, and stand trial, even if it was a hanging matter.
“You see, I didn’t expect you’d get to learn very much from me, and I haven’t been disappointed. I’m the one that’s learning, and when I think what you’ve done for me, and when I see what Old Mississip’ does, friendlying for all of us, tripping us along––”
They understood. He looked at the boat, at them, and through the wide-open windows at the sun-rippled water.
“Now for religion. Seems like I’m impudent, telling you kindly souls about being good to one another, having no hard, mean feelings against anybody, and living like you ought to live. We’re all sinners! Time and again hit’s ag’in the grain to do what’s right, and if we taste a taste of white liquor, or if hit’s stained with burnt sugar to make hit red, why––”
“Sho!” someone grinned. “Parson Rasba knows!”
The preacher joined the laughter.
“Yas, suh!” he admitted, more gravely, “I know. I ’lowed, one time, that I’d git to know this yeah happiness that comes of liquor, an’ I shore took one awful 215 gulp. Three nights an’ three days I neveh slept a wink, an’ me settin’ theh by the fireplace, waitin’ to be lit up an’ jubulutin’, but hit didn’t come. I’ve be’n happier, jes’ a-settin’ an’ lookin’ at that old riveh, hearin’ the wild geese flocking by!
“That old riveh—Lawse! If the Mississippi brings you fish and game; if it gives you sheltered eddies to anchor in, and good banks or sandbars to tie against; if this great river out here does all that for you, what do you reckon the Father of that river, of all the world, of all the skies would do, He being so much friendlier and powerfuller?
“Hit’s easy to forget the good that’s done to you. Lots an’ lots of times, I bet you’ve not even thought of the good you’ve had from the river, from the sunshine, from the winds, plenty to eat and warm of nights on your boats and in your cabins. It’s easy to remember the little evil things, the punishments that are visited upon us for our sins or because we’re ignorant and don’t know; but reckon up the happiness you have, the times you are blessed with riches of comfort and pleasure, and you’ll find yourself so much happier than you are sad that you’ll know how well you are cared for.
“I cayn’t preach no reg’lar sermon, with text-tes and singing and all that. Seems like I jes’ want to talk along rambling like, and tell you how happy you are all, for I don’t reckon you’re much wickeder than you are friendly on the average. I keep a-hearing about murdering and stealing and whiskey boating and such things. They’re signs of the world’s sinfulness. We talk a heap about such things; they’re real, of course, and we cayn’t escape them. At the same time, look at me!