Evening Republican, Volume 17, Number 159, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 5 July 1913 — Primitive Mountain Folk [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

Primitive Mountain Folk

OVE of the most, Interesting regions in the United States is the southern Appalachians. It is a land of giants and patriarchal families and of isolated simplicities id life which have deep human interest. One can explore on horseback this fascinating region, traveling through the western part of Virginia and North Carolina and the eastern districts of Tennessee and Kentucky. You can stop ' oft anywhere you happen to get tired and board, indefinitely and sumptuously, for $2.40 a week. These mountain folk are rich in the material things if poor in the gimcrack luxuries the outer world esteems needful. They are still shut in their fastnesses; but conditions are changing now from the absolute isolation that existed before the civil war. In following one of the mountain trails the traveler is well paid. Throughout these ranges are bridle, paths, where notches are cut in the tock on the steep mountainside for the horse or mule to secure good footing.* A traveler can find nowhere such a variety of scenery. He starts at the foothills, along the banks of some stream. The cliffs are completely covered with moss and ferns, watered by innumerable springs, which In Summer form a hanging garden of foliage. Following one of these cataracts between mountains, one discovers all of a sudden that the trail he is in comes to an end. Looking to the left he discovers a path leading oft up the mountain. By a modified climb, placing one foot above the other, one can Teach a high cliff and stop for a rest. Only a few feet below is the trail, a switchback, and to gain one-fourth of a mile you climb a whole one. In the Evergreens. ’ Rarely could one find so fascinating a picture of mountain grandeur, all in contrast with the enticing charms of the valley below, where hundreds of cattle are peacefully grazing on vast , fields of blue grass. You are on the ’ edge of the evergreen timber, called the hemlock belt. ...... •. ■ - Once in the evergreen timber, the view is entirely shut off, except now and then where the trail leads over some cliff; then the glimpse is just for an Instant. There are forests of laurel so thick in places that one cannot see two feet away. The laurel trees are from 18 to 25 feet high, some measuring eight inches in diameter. You rest again and hear sounds that tell of some habitation. Listen! - Yes, you can hear dogs bark. You resume the journey, and through open places in the timber you can' now see fields. Soon you \ come to a log fence, and afterward ’the traU leads off into a cove. A cabin appears, built of logs, fireplace on the outside and split-oak roof. A short distance - away is the spring. Just back of the cabin lies the peach orchard, and alongside the path leading to the barn are the grape vines and quinces and other fruits, such as apples, pears and pawpaw. This is the land of milk and honey. You can count over 60 hives of bees, or "gums”—a hollow tree sawed in two, then set on end on hewn timber artd covered with a slab split from a log. Away in the distant woodland orfe hears the "ting, ting” of the cowbell. A man about six set four inches in hight emerges from the door. ", “How d’you do. stranger?” is his greeting. You give him the usuad handshake, which is the custom of the country, and commence to tell your story. But before it is finished he says. “Step in, ■ah, brother.” You enter the door before your host, which is customary among mountain folk, and are told to have a seat. In one end of the room is a fireplace with the old-fashioned mantel shelf. After supper the fiddle comes down and the whole cabin thrills to the. oldtime airs—My Old Kentucky Home, Nellie Gray and Barbara Allen and all the tunes that make home of a wilderness. » Close to Nature. The head of the house asks if you would like to lie down. You are ready enough, and you are shown a ladder in one corner of the room. It leads to a hole in the floor above, where

there are several beds in bne of the most home-like rooms imaginable. Sinking lazily into a feather bed which fills the old four-poster, the tired wayfarer is soon in the land of dreams. Awakened the next morning by the quack, quack of, geese—-for this is a place of many fowls —the voices of ewes and lambs are heard calling across the hilltop. The cowbells tinkle cheerily. This is mountain life. The housewife cooks the breakfast. You are up, dressed and re.ady. Soon one of the girts goes out to milk. She uses a cup to milk in. When it is full it is emptied into the bucket. Ask her why she doesn’t milk in the bucket, and her reply is: “If the cow should kick, I’ll lose only a cupful of milk instead of a bucketful.” In these mountain homes there are many children. Usually one or two of the older girts wait on the table, and they press you always to have more. The children eat when the rest do, every one sitting in his accustomed place on the long bench, but not until the guest is seated first. In the center of the table is a large dish of honey. Near it is a pitcher of milk. The honey is passed first, for the mountaineers are “good livers” and they believe in having the best first. Next come the corn or wheat bread, apple butter, peach butter, stewed blackberries, pawpaw, ham and eggs, beans and tree sirup. The mountains have only bridle paths and trail ofttimes so steep that one misstep would mean death to horse and rider hundreds of feet below. The first automobile has yet to come. The locomotive halts in a fardistant valley. The telephone does not ring. These trails wind and wind, until you have lost all points of the compass, but are the main thoroughfares of travel. Where they cross streams, notches are cut in trees on the river bank. It the water is above the notch cut in the tree, it is unsafe to cross at the nearest habitation until the waters fall below jjie safety mark. At different' points along the larger streams dugouts are used for crossing. They are logs chopped out, something in the shape of a boat. They are the ferries at foot-path crossings, as well as the canoes of hunters and trappers. Down near the Kentucky line you are liable, in the forest on the steep mountainside, to meet a man on horseback, a bag of grain in front of him. A short distance away, in a deep ravine, is a log building about six by nine feet. It is the grist mill. The roof is covered with thin boards, split out of oak timbers, called “shooks." They are laid like shingles. To hold them down, a stiff pole is laid crosswis? in the center, and a hole Is bored in the end of the pole. A pin is then driven In to hold the shooks down. The people come to the mill, carrying their grain on the horses, from many miles. The mills are free for them to do, their own grinding. The door, if there is one, is never locked. A small water wheel In the turns the burr stone. After the grist is ground, it is placed on the horse and the miller returns. Sometimes it takes one day to come and grind, and the shades of twilight fall the second day before home is reached. When the distance is not too far, the women go to market. Their eggs are placed in either end of a bag made with both ends closed and the opening in the middle. The eggs are packed in buckets of grain and then they are placed on a horse, one on each side. Nearly everything is packed, except in the valley, where wagons are used somewhat, though it’s not unusual to see a six-footer with a pack on his back slowly winding his way up the mountainside. Even Uncle Sam’s mail is carried in leather bags. The men and women in the region are of giant stature and the families are large. There are families in which the children dumber twenty and many where the number runs from a dozen to fifteen' or eighteen. Crude as is the life, the people are really progressive. They 'are honest and industrious. Their hospitality is unbounded. But if you do them an Intentional wrong, you might just as well disappear, quietly and humbly, They have, no use for a “crooked” man. •