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9 Looking for the Maker’s Name Sometimes on a table like this it is up underneath. A beautiful thing. Turn it up over to the left and flip it— that’s good—now set it here straight down don’t pull it along you might scratch the top. Do you see where the maker made his name—you can barely read it—this white chalk across the pine—can you read that—I can’t either it looks like a J maybe James? Made just before the Civil War right around here. It’s yellow pine all right. The grain looks familiar though probably grew along Piggot’s Bottom where that creek goes catawampus into the woods probably exactly where I met my wife—we were standing on a stump—right beside the road, stars up in the leaves. Must be the same tree. Must be. Either that or you are one gullible fuck. All right then, let’s flip it back on its feet. Easy. Easy! Damn. ...

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