xt7kd50fvc56 https://exploreuk.uky.edu/dips/xt7kd50fvc56/data/mets.xml Bayne, Mary Addams. 1907  books b92-83-27375795 English Standard, : Cincinnati, O. : Contact the Special Collections Research Center for information regarding rights and use of this collection. Kentucky History. Crestlands  : centennial story of Cane Ridge / by Mary Addams Bayne ; illustrated by O.A. Stemler. text Crestlands  : centennial story of Cane Ridge / by Mary Addams Bayne ; illustrated by O.A. Stemler. 1907 2002 true xt7kd50fvc56 section xt7kd50fvc56 

Abner gently checked his mare, and sat satching her.



   A Centennial Story of Cane




    Illustrated by 0. 4. Stem/er



     COPYRIGHT, 1907, BY
       CINCINNATI, 0.



   To my husband, J. C. Bayne, who in
this, as in all else I have attempted, has
given loving, loyal, unstinted support and

This page in the original text is blank.



                     CHAPTER I.                  PAGE
THE COMING OF THE SCHOOLMASTER -----------------------  I
                     CHAPTER 11.
GETTING TO WORK _-   ----------------------------_--_____________19
                    CHAPI ER III.
CANE RIDGE MEETING-HOUSE  _______________-- -------------- 27

                    CHAPIER IV.
WINTER SCHOOL-DAYS--------------------------- --------------- 38
                     CHAPTER V.
"SSEITIN' TILL BEDTIME" ------------------------ - ---------- 42
                    CHAPTER VI.
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO     -       --               59

                    CHAP rER VII.
THE "HOUSE-RAISIN' "------------------------------  69
                    CHAPTER VIII.
LOVE'S YOUNG DREAM -------------------------- ---  75
                    CHAPTER IX.
THE GREAT REVIVAL____                --            78
                     CHAPTER X.
AFTERNOON IN THE GROVE           -      --         82
                    CHAPTER Xl.
LIGHT DAWNS_        -------------------- ------- --- 91
                    CHAPTER XII.
COMMENT AND CRiTICISM------------------------ --------------- 96
                    CHAPrER XIII.
COURT DAY________--______________-------------------___---_103
                   CHIAPrER XIV.
BETSY SAYS "VWAIT"______ ---- _------------------1------ 107
                    CHAPTER XV.
THE WAITING-TIME-__                               13
                   CHAPTER XVI.
A SINGULAR WILL ________ ----------------------------------- 120
                   CHAPTER XVII.
AT CANSE RIDG AGAIN..-------------- ---------- -______130


                      CONI EN rs

                    CHAPTER X'TIII.                PAGE
DRANE PRACTICES PENMANSIIIP _ __                    135
                    CIHAPrER XIX.
                     CIIAPI ER XX.

                    CHAPIER XXI.
                    CHAPTER XX;.
BANISHMENT -___ __                ---------------------- 109
                   CHIAP ;IER XXIII.
MASON ROGERS' DIPLOMACY ------ -     __.-____-__________-173
                   CHAPTrER XXIV.
THE BAR SINISTER_ -------------------------------------_-- --   18i
                    CHAPTER XXV.
THE PACKAGE OF OLD LETTERS __-__-.-___-__-_______-_-- -- 190

                   CHAPTER XXVI.
SPRINGFIELD PRESBYTERY -____-__-_-___.._-_________-__-__-___-__-4199
                   CHAPTER XXVII.
BETSY DECLINES THE HONOR- - ____________________________203
                   CHAPTER XXVII1.
AT THE BLUE IIERON _______ __    ---------------------- . ..213
                   CHAPTER XXIX.

AUNT IJILSEY TO THE RESCUE ----------------- - -   221
                    CHAPrER XXX.
t()UN; LoCHINVAR -_----______--___--_--______________________228
                   CHAPTER XXXI.
A NOVEL BRIDAL TOUR- -__ __                         232

                   CHAPTER XXXII.
EXIT JAMES ANSON DRANE -____--___--___-______________-__ 24

                   CHIAPFER XXXIII.
THE STRANGER PREACHER_--_             __252

                   CHAPTER XXXIV.
                   CHAPTER XXXV.
CONCLUSION                                          263

APPENDIX-269_ --------------  



z. Abner gently checked his mare, and sat watching her-_-Frontisptiece

2. Cane Ridge Meeting-house______                            27

3. Portrait of Barton Warren Stone113

4. "I have come for my answer, Betty"-143

5. At this juncture the door was flung open by old Dilsey-________225

6. The bridal equipage comes to grief-236

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   Abner Dudley (Logan,) a young schoolmaster from Virginia.
   Major Gilcrest, ex-Revolutionary soldier and prominent churchman.
   Mason Rogers, pioneer settler and warm advocate of Barton Stone.
   Barton Warren Stone, preacher at Cane Ridge meeting-house.
   James Anson Drane, young lawyer and land agent.
   Betsy Gilcrest, only daughter of Major and Mrs. Gilcrest.
   Abby Patterson, niece of Major Gilcrest.
   Sarah Jane Gilcrest, wife of Major Gilcrest.
   Cynthia Ann Rogers, bustling wife of Mason Rogers.
   Aunt Dilsey, negro nurse and under-housekeeper at Oaklands.

                 MINOR CHARACTERS.

   David Purviance, Simon Lucky, Matthew Houston, Wm. Trabue,
Shadrac Landrum, Thomas Hinkson, members of Cane Ridgc Church.
   Richard McNemar, tried by synod for heresy.
   General Wilkinson, Judge Innes, Judge Murray, Judge Sebastian, sup-
posed Spanish intriguants.
   Graham, detective in employ of Federal Government.
   Henry Clay and Joseph Hamilton Daviess, opposing counsel in the Burr
   Polly Hinkson and Molly Trabue, rustic belles.
   Richard Dudley, of Virginia, foster-father of Abner Dudley (Logan.)
   John Calvin, Martin Luther, Silas, Philip, Matthew, sons of Major and
Mrs. Gilcrest.
   Henry, Susan, Lucindy, Lucy, Tommy, Barton, the six children of
Mason and Cynthia Ann Rogers.
   Uncle Tony, Rube, Tom, Rache, Aunt D.nk, slaves belonging to the

This page in the original text is blank.



           HA Story of Early Kentucky


                  CHAPTER L.
  The spirit of Indian Summer, enveloped in a delicate
bluish haze, pervaded the Kentucky forest. Through
the treetops sounded a sighing minor melody as now and
then a leaf bade adieu to the companions of its summer
revels, and sought its winter's rest on the ground be-
neath. On a fallen log a redbird sang with jubilant note.
VWhat cared he for the lament of the leaves True, he
must soon depart from this summer home; but only to
wing his way to brighter skies, and then return when
mating-time should come again.  Near a group of
hickory-trees a colony of squirrels gathered their winter
store of nuts; and a flock of wild turkeys led by a pom-
pous, bearded gobbler picked through the underbrush. At
a wayside puddle a deer bent his head to slake his thirst,
but scarcely had his lips touched the water when his
head was reared again. For an instant he listened, limbs
quivering, nostrils dilating, a startled light in his soft
eyes; then with a bound he was away into the depths of
the forest. The turkeys, heeding the tocsin of alarm



from their leader, sought the shelter of the deeper under-
growth; the squirrels dropped their nuts and found
refuge in the topmost branches of the tree which they
had just pilfered; but the redbird, undisturbed, went onl
with his caroling, too confident in his own beauty and
the charm of his song to fear any intruder.
   The cause of alarm waq a horseman whose approach
had been proclaimed by the crackling of dried twigs in
the bridle-path he was traversing. He was an erect,
broad-shouldered, dark-eyed young man with ruddy
complexion, clear-cut features, and a well-formed chin.
A rifle lay across his saddle-bow, and behind him was a
pair of bulky saddle-bags. He wore neither the uncouth
garb of the hunter nor the plain homespun of the settler,
but rather the dress of the Virginian cavalier of the
period, although his hair, instead of being tied in a
queue, was short, and curled loosely about his finely
shaped head. The broad brim of his black hat was
cocked in front by a silver boss; the gray traveler's cape,
thrown back, revealed a coat of dark blue, a waistcoat
ornamented with brass buttons, and breeches of the same
color as the coat, reaching to the knees, and terminating
in a black cloth band with silver buckles.
   He rode rapidly along the well-defined bridle-way,
and soon emerged into a broader thoroughfare. Pres-
ently he heard the high-pitched, quavering notes of a
negro melody, faint at first and seeming as much a part
of nature as the russet glint of the setting sun through
the trees. The song grew louder as he advanced, until,
emerging into an open space, he came upon the singer,
a gray-haired negro trudging sturdily along with a stout
hickory stick in his hand. The negro doffed his cap and
bowed humbly.
- "Marstah, hez you seed anythin' ob a spotted heifer
wid one horn broke off, anywhars on de road She's




pushed dlown de bars an' jes' skipped off somewhars."
   "No, uncle, I've met no stray cows; but can you
tell me how tar it is to Major Hiram Gilcrest's I'm a
stranger in this region."
   "Major Gilcrest's !" exclaimed the darkey. "You'se
done pass de turnin' whut leads dar. Didn' you see a
lane forkin' off 'bout a mile back by de crick, close to
de big 'simmon-tree Dat's de lane whut leads to Mars-
tah Gilcrest's, suh."
   "Ah, I see! but perhaps you can direct me to Mister
Mason Rogers' house My business is with him as well
as with Major Gilcrest."
   "I shorely kin," answered the negro, with a grin.
"I 'blongs to Marse Mason; I'se his ole uncle Tony. We
libs two mile fuddah down dis heah same road, an' ef
you wants to see my marstah an' Marstah Gilcrest bofe,
you might ez well see Marse Mason fust, anyways; kaze
whutevah he say, Marse Hiram's boun' to say, too.
Dey's mos' mighty thick."
   The stranger turned his head to hide a momentary
   "You jes' ride straight on," continued Uncle Tony,
pointing northward with his stick; "fus' you comes to a
big log house wid de shettahs all barred up, settin' by
itse'f a leetle back frum de road, wid a woods all roun'
it-dat's Cane Redge meetinghouse. Soon's you pass it,
you comes to de big spring, den to a dirty leetle cabin
whar dem pore white trash, de Simminses, bibs. Den
you strikes a cawnfiel', den a orchid. Den you'se dar.
De dawgs an' chickens will sot up a tur'ble rumpus, but
you jes' ride up to de stile an' holler, 'Hello!' an' some
dem no-'count niggahs'll tek yo' nag an' construct you
inter Miss Cynthy Ann's presence. I'd show you de
wav myse'f, on'y Is'e bountah fin' dat heifer; but you
carn't miss de way."




   With this he hobbled off down the road in search
of the errant heifer.  Meanwhile our traveler rode
steadily forward until, in another half-hour, he came
in sight of a more prosperous-looking clearing than any
he had seen since leaving Bourbontoa. To the right
of the road some long-horned cattle and a mare and colt
were grazing in a woodland pasture; to the left, in a
field, several negroes wvere gathering the yellow corn
from the shock and heaping it into piles. In an orchard
adjoining the cornfield a barefooted, freckled-faced little
girl wvas standling under an apple-tree with her apron
held out to catch the fruit which another barefooted,
freckled-faced little girl in the branches overhead was
tossing deown to her. In the center of a tree-shaded
yard stood the house, a spacious, two-story log struc-
ture, with a huge rock chimney at each end.
   As the stranger drew rein at the stile, he was greeted
by a chorus of (logs, followed instantly by the cries of
a number of half-clad, grinning little darkeys who came
running forward from the negro quarters in the rear.
   "Doan he skeered o' Ketchum, Mistah; he shan't tech
you," called the largest of them, a bright-skinned mu-
latto, quieting the snarling dog with a kick.
   "Reckon Marse Mason's somewhars 'roun' de place,
suh," added the darkey in answer to the traveler's in-
quiry. "Miss Cynthy Ann she's in de settin'-room. Jes'
walk in dar tru de passage-way, an' knock at de fust
door you comes to. I'll tek yo' hoss, suh."
   The stranger crossed the low, clapboard-covered
porch and entered a wide, dusky hall running through
the entire length of the house. The hum of a spinning-
wheel guided him to a side door, at which he knocked.
In answer to a loud "Come in," he stepped into a large
room made cheerful by a gay rag carpet on the floor.
A comely, middle-aged woman sat at a side window, at




work with her needle on some coarse homespun mate-
rial. Near her a bright-faced, rosy-cheeked girl, clad in
short, linsey dress and homespun apron, had charge of
the spinning-wheel in the center of the room. In one
corner a negro girl was carding wool; and on the wide
rock hearth two little boys were parching corn in a
   "Glad to see you, suh," exclaimed Mrs. Rogers heart-
ily, hastening toward the stranger with outstretched
hand. "Susan," she said to the spinner, who came for-
ward with a modest courtesy and a shy "Good evenin',"
"set a cheer an' tek the gentleman's hat. Rache"-to the
negro-"put by yer cardin' an' tek thet spinnin'-wheel
out to the loom-room. Tommy an' Buddy, stop litt'rin'
up the h'arth, an' run wash yer faces. Heah, tek this
skillet with you, an' then see ef you kin find yer pap.
He's down whar they're geth'rin' cawn, I reckon."
   Seizing a split broom as she spoke, she brushed the
hearth, then gave a tap with her foot to the smouldering
logs, which broke into a blaze and sent a shower of
sparks up the wide chimney.
   "The days is gittin' cooler, 'spesh'ly ez night comes
on. Draw up to the fire, suh-an', heah, tek this cheer;
it's comf'tabler then that'n'," she said hospitably, ejecting
a big tortoise-shell cat from the depths of a cushioned
rocker which she pulled forward.
   "My name is Dudley, madam; Abner Dudley," said
the guest as he exchanged the straight, split-bottom chair
for the rocker. "I learned from Squire Osborne, of Bour-
bonton, that a teacher was wanted in this neighborhood.
I had intended going to Major Gilcrest's to-night, but
made the wrong turning, and then met your old servant,
who directed me here."
   "You're welcome, I'm shore, 'spesh'ly ef you're a
schoolmastah. We'd begun to think we warn't to hev




no school a-tall this wintah. Folks 'roun' heah air be-
ginnin' to tek big stock in schoolin'," she went on as she
resumed her seat and began to sew.
   "So Squire Osborne told me," answered Dudley. "I'm
glad the people are interested in educational matters."
   "Yes; Mr. Rogers, Hirum Gilcrest an' John Trabue
air plum daft about it. Preachah Stone said last time
he preached fur us thet we sartainly air progressin', an'
I'm glad on it, too, though I never hed edvantiges my-
se'f. When I wuz a little gal down in Car'liny, I went
to school long 'nough to l'arn my a-b-c's. Then the red-
skins broke up the school, an' we didn't hev no more
tell I wtiz a big gal an' 'shanmed to go an' I'arn my a-b
abs 'long with the little shavers. When I wuz 'bout
sixteen, 'long comes Mr. Rogers, an' I didn't keer nothin'
more 'bout school. You know, when a gal gits marryin'
in her haid, thar ain't no room left in it fur book-l'arnin'.
Mason he wuz a sprightly, well-sot-up young fellah, an'
soon's I laid eyes on him (it wuz at a house-raisin'
party), I wuz ready to say 'snip' ez soon ez he'd say
'snap.'. Folks them days didn't fool 'way much time
a-courtin'. A man'd see a likely gal, an' soon's he'd got
a piece o' ground cl'ared an' a cabin raised, they'd be
ready to splice. So Mason an' me wuz married, an'
moved up to Kaintuck. Thet fust wintah, while we wuz
a-livin' in the fort, Mason he broke his laig out huntin',
an' while he wuz laid up a spaill, he l'arned me to read
an' write an' ciphah some. I reckon ef it hadn't 'a' been
fur thet crippled laig o' his'n, I'd nevah l'arned even thet
much."  She dropped her work for a moment as she
reviewed this incident of her early married life.
   "Doubtless, madam, you underrate your stock of
learning. I dare say you made rapid progress," said
Dudley, politely.
   "Oh, I l'arned the readin' an' writin' all right, but,




la! I nevah lied no haid fur figgahs. I jogged 'long purty
brisk with the addin' an' subtractin', but them multiplyin'
tables floored me. To this day I allus staggers at the
nines, an' ef you wuz to ax me how much wuz seven
times nine, I'd haf to count on my fingahs before I could
tell whuthah it made forty-eight or fifty-seven-though
I know it's one or tuthah. But times is changed, an' I
want my childurn edicated in all the accompaniments."
   "How many children have you "
   "Six livin'. W'e lost our fust two. Henry is goin'
on seventeen, an' he jes' natch'ally teks to books knows
more'n his pap now, I reckon. Why, he kin figgah ez
fast ez I kin ravel out a piece o' knittin', an' I nevah
in my borned days heard nobody, 'cept mayby Preachah
Stone, whut could read lak him. He kin run 'long ovah
them big names in the papah an' them generalgies in the
Bible lak a racin' pony. Susan, our eldest gal, is a little
the rise o' fourteen, an' wuz counted the best spellah in
the school last wintah. The twins, Lucindy an' Lucy,
air real peart, too, fur ther age, jes' turned intah ther
ninth year. Tommy, he's only five, but his pap'll sign
him, too; fur we want him brung 'long fast in his books
befoh he's big 'nough to holp with the wuck."
   "That leaves only your youngest, I believe," said
Dudley. "What is his name"
   "His real name is Barton Warren Stone, aftah our
preachah. Mason he sets a big store by Preachah Stone
-says he's the godliest man to be so smart an' the smart-
est man to be so godly he evah seen; an' you know them
two things don't allus jump togethah."
   "No, indeed," acknowledged Dudley; "they're not so
often found in company as one might wish."
   "Jes' so," assented Mrs. Rogers. "Well, ez I was
a-sayin', Brothah Stone hed been preachin' fur us onct
a month at Cane Redge meetinghouse 'bout a year when



our youngest wuz borned; an' nothin' would do Mason
but he must be called fur the preachah. It's a well-
soundin' name, I think myse'f. So we writ it down in
the big Bible, but, la! he might ez well be called aftah
Ehenezer or Be'lzebub or any the rest o' them Ole Tes-
tament prophets. 'Bart,' or 'Barty,' is all he evah gits
o' his big name, an' most times it's jes' 'Sonny' or 'Bud-
dy.' But I reckon you're nigh 'bout starved, aftah ridin'
so fur," she added, folding her sewing and rising briskly.
"Heah, you kin look ovah last week's paper tell the
men folks gits in. WVe air mighty proud o' that paper.
It's the fust evah printed in Kaintuck. Mason an' Henry
sets up tell nigh onto nine o'clock readin' it, the fust night
aftah it comes. It's printed at Lexin'ton by John Brad-
ford. He usetah live out heah, but, ten or twelve year
ago, he moved intah Lexin'ton an' started up the 'Ga-
zette,' an' I reckon it's 'bout the fines' paper whut evah
wuz; leastways, it makes mighty fine trimmin's fur the
cup'od shelves."
   When his garrulous hostess had departed, Dudley,
instead of reading the paper, looked about him. The
chinked log walls of the room and the stout beams over-
head were whitewashed, and the four tiny windows were
curtained with spotless dimity. The high-posted bed-
stead was furnished with a plump feather bed, a bright
patchwork quilt, and fat pillows in coarse but well-
bleached slips. Underneath the four-poster was a trun-
dle-bed with a blue and white checked coverlet. In an
angle by the fireplace was a three-cornered cupboard,
and between the front windows stood a chest of drawers
with glass knobs. On the chest lay a big Bible, a hymn-
book, and several more well-thumbed volumes. A large
deal table with hinged leaves, a rude stand covered with
a towel, several rush-bottomed chairs, and the rocker
constituted the chief items of furniture. On the tall





mantel, beside a loud-ticking clock, shone several brass
candlesticks, flanked by a china vase, a turkey wing, and
a pile of papers. Suspended from a row of pegs near the
bed were various garments, and over the back doorway
a pair of buck horns supported a rifle, near which hung
a powder-horn.
   Presently a heavy step was heard on the loose boards
of a back porch. "Lucy," called a loud voice from with-
out, "fotch some hot watah and the noggin o' soap. Lu-
cindy, find me a towel." Further commands were lost
in a loud splashing and spluttering; and in a few minutes
Mason Rogers, red-faced, red-haired, and huge of frame,
entered the room, pulling down the sleeves of his coarse
shirt as he came.
   "Howdy howdy Glad to see you, suh," he ex-
claimed, extending his hand. "My wife says you're a
schoolmarster; and you air ez welcome ez rain to a
parched cawnfield. Whar'd you say you hailed frum"
He seated himself as he spoke, tilting his chair against
the mantel.
   "From Virginia, sir."
   "From Virginny! Then you're twict ez welcome.
I wuz borned an' raised in the old State myse'f; and
I'll allus hev a sneakin' fondness fur her, though she
wouldn't loose her holt on us ez soon ez she oughter,
an' she hain't treated us egzactly fair 'bout thet Tran-
sylvany College bus'ness, nuther."
   "Oh," Dudley said pleasantly, "Virginia's the mother
State, you know, and Kentucky a favorite child whom
she grieved to have leave the parental roof."
   "Well, hev it your own way, suh," answered Rogers,
genially, drawing from the pocket of his butternut jeans
trousers a twist of tobacco and helping himself to a
generous chew. "'Pears to me, though, she acted more
lak a stepmother-couldn't manidge us herse'f, but wuz




jealous uv us settin' up fur ourse'ves. Still, that's all
past an' gone. We got our freedom ez soon ez it wuz
good fur us, I reckon; so I shan't hold no gredge agin
her-'spesh'ly ez it won't mek a mite o' diffruns to her ef
I do. Whut part o' Virginny air you frum, suh"
   "Culpeper County, near-"
   "Culpeper County!" ejaculated Rogers, bringing his
chair to a level with a bang and planting a hand on
each knee. "Why, thet's my county, an' thar ain't anoth-
er lak it on the livin' airth. Cynthy Ann," he called,
striding to the back door, "you an' Dink skeer up some-
thin' extry fur suppah, can't you This young feller's
frum Culpeper County.-Hi, thar, Eph, give the gentle-
man's hoss a rubbin' down an' a extry good feed, an'
let him have the best stall- Whut you say Dandy
an' Roan in the best stalls Turn 'em out, then. Don't
stand thar scratchin' yer haid an' grinnin' lak a 'possum,
but stir yer stumps 'bout thet hoss!" Returning to his
chair and resuming his former attitude, he said in a
milder tone: "I 'low you b'long to the lawyer-makin'
class o' schoolmarsters; all the teachers we've had yit
b'longed to one o' two kinds. Either they wuz jes'
school-keepers, kaze they wuz too 'tarnal lazy to do any-
thin' else, or they wuz ambitious young fellers whut
aimed to mek the schoolmarster's desk a steppin'-stone
to the jedge's bench. Now, you don't look lak one o'
the lazy kind; so I reckon you air a sproutin' lawyer,
   "No, sir, I've no ambition of that kind. My inten-
tion is to look about, while teaching, for a good tract
of land. I want to settle in Kentucky, not as a lawyer,
but as a farmer."
   "Now vou're talkin' sense! Lawyers an' perfession-
als air gittin' ez thick in Bourbon an' Fayette ez lice in
a niggah's haid. Ev'ry othah young fellah you see, ef




he hez any book-l'arnin', thinks he's a second Patrick
Henry or John Hancock. But whut we need hain't more
lawyers an' sich lak, but more farmahs an' carpentahs
an' shoemakahs. An', ez fur land, thar's a track uv 'bout
three hundurd acres back thar on Hinkson Crick whut ole
man Lucky, I heah, will sell fur one dollah an' two bits
a acre-lays well, is well watered an' well timbered, an'
the sile fairly stinks with richness. All it needs is cl'ar-
in' up. I've been castin' longin' eyes on it myse'f, but
I couldn't nmanidge no more land jes' now, I reckon. So
my advice fur you is to buy tiv Lucky right away. An',
I tell you whut, ef you hain't got money 'nough by you
jes' now, I'll lend it to you, an' tek a morgitch on the
land. I tell you this is the fines' country in the univarse
-healthy climit, sile thet'll grow anything, an', to cap
all, the fines' grazin' in the world. Nevah seed nothin'
lak it! Talk 'bout yer roses an' honeysuckles! they
can't hold a candle to the grass 'roun' heah. It has a sor-
tah glisten to it an' a bluish look when it heads out thet
beats any flower thet blows fur purty. I hain't no Solo-
mon, nor yit among the prophets; but, mark my word,
in twenty year from now, this'll be the gairden spot
o' creation. A clock-tinkah frum Connecticut, whut wuz
heah last spring, got sortah riled at us, an' said we Kain-
tucks wuz ez full o' brag ez ef we wuz fust cousins to
the king of England; but, Lawd! hain't we got reason
to brag Hain't ourn a reasonabler conceit then thet uv
them ole 'ristercrats 'roun' Lexin'ton an' Bourbonton,
allus talkin' o' ther pedergrees, an' ez proud ez though
they wuz ascended frum the Sultan o' Asia Minor or the
Holy \Tirgus hisse'f"
   "Indeed, you have reason to be proud," agreed Dud-
ley, warmly; "in only a few years you have made a howl-
ing wilderness to blossom as the rose."
   "You may well say this wuz a howlin' wilderness.




Why, suh, jes' twenty year ago, in the spring o' 1780,
when Dan'l Boone come to Kaintuck frum Car'liny, 'bout
fifty uv us frum thet State come with him, through Cum-
berlan' Gap by the ole Wilderness road, an' we fit Injuns
an' painters an' copperhaids all 'long the way."
   "Did you settle at Boonesborough first"
   "Some did; but me an' Cynthy Ann (we wuz jes'
married then) an the Houstons an' Luckys an' Finleys
an' Trabues pushed on up to whar Bourbonton is now.
We built a fort near a big spring, an' called it an' the
crick near by aftah ole Matt Houston. Thar wuzn't
anothah house in this region, 'cep' at Bryant Station;
and look at us now! Lexin'ton, nearly two thousand
population-the biggest town in the State-an' Bour-
bonton a-treadin' right 'long on her heels-ovah four
hundurd people now, an' a-growin' lak a ironweed. But
in them ole days the only road wuz a big buffalo trail
whut hez sence been widened an' wucked up inter
'Smith's wagon road,' runnin' 'long nigh Fort Houston;
an' we settlers would kill buffalo an' sich like, an' tan
the hides. Then 'long in 1784 some uv us concluded, ez
the Injun varmints hed 'bout all been kilt or skeered
away, that we'd open up farms. Boone come 'long agin,
an' we axed him whar to settle-you know, he'd roamed
all ovah these parts, an' knowed all the best places. He
told us to come out to this redge whut sep'rates the
waters o' Hinkson an' Stoner Cricks; an' he named it
Cane Redge, fur, ez he said, the biggest cane an' the
biggest sugar-trees in Kaintuck growed on it. So we
come; an' a rough-an'-tumble life it wuz at fust." He
crossed the room and drew back the curtain from one of
the windows. "Thet ole smoke-house out thar undah the
buckeye-tree wuz my fust home heah, suh. Until aftah
the fust craps wuz in, none o' the settlers' cabins bed
anythin' but dirt floors.




   "Cissy," he said to Susan, who had just entered,
"tell yer ma to git out the boughten table-cloth an' them
blue chaney dishes-an' say, honey, you must set the
table in heah. I hain't gwineter sot Mr. Dudley down to
eat in the kitchen the fust night he breaks bread with us.
   "Well, ez I wuz a-sayin'," he continued to Dudley,
resuming his seat, "our cabins hed dirt floors, an' the
walls warn't chinked; an' ez fur winder glass, why, bless
yer soul, we hardly knowed thar wuz sich a thing. The
only cheers we had wuz stools made o' slabs sot on three
laigs. Our table wuz made the same, an' our bed wuz
laid on slabs whut rested on poles at the outsides, with
the othah eends o' them let in between the logs o' the
hut. Henry wuz a baby then, an' he wuz rocked in a
sugar-trough cradle. But, pshaw! heah my tongue's
a-runnin' lak a bell clappah; r reckon these ole 'mem-
brances don't intrust you much, an'-"
   "Indeed they do. It is more interesting than a ro-
mance. But tell me, how did you acquire so many ne-
groes You surely didn't bring them with you"
   "Lawd, no! Why, we wuz pore ez Job's turkey, an'
hardly owned a shut to our backs, let 'lone niggahs.
Aftah the country wuz more cl'ared up, folks moved in
frum Virginny an' even Pennsylvany, an' brought slaves
with 'em. Then the Yankee dealers begun to fotch 'em
in an' sell 'em at Lexin'ton an' Louisville an' Limestone.
Rube an' Dink wuz the fust I owned-bought 'em o'
ole Jake Bledsoe in the spring o' '87. Now I own nigh
on to twenty darkeys, big an' little. The place is fairly
runnin' ovah with the lazy imps, an' it keeps me an' Cvn-
thy Ann on the tight jump frum sun-up tell dark lookin'
aftah 'em."
   "How long have you owned Uncle Tony He talks
like a Virginia darkey."
   "So he is. He's not only frum my own State, but




frum my county an' town-ole Lawsonville. Cynthy
Ann 'lows Tony's done got the measure o' my foot, an'
thet I spile him dreadful. I reckon I hev got a sneakin'
likin' fur his ole black hide; but whut could you ex-
paict when he's the only pusson, black or white, I've laid
eyes on fruni Lawsonville sence I run away to Car'linv
nigh thirty year ago I'll tell you sometime how I hap-
pened on Tony; hain't time now, fur I smell the bacon
a-fryin', an' I reckon suppah'1l be dished up in no time
   "Did T understand you to say Uncle Tony was from
Lawsonville "
   "Egzactly! Do you know the place"
   "Why, it's my native town," said Dudley.
   "''hut !'" exclaimed Rogers. "Shake agin, suh," strid-
ing over to Dudley, who also had risen. "Then you're
jes' lak my own kin frum this time on. Frum Lawson-
ville!" he repeated, a tear on each swarthy cheek as he
grasped the young man's hand.
   "Say," he continued eagerly, after a moment's si-
lence, "is the ole forge whut stood at the crossroads,
jes' on the aidge o' the town, still thar And the little
brown house jes' behind it with the big mulberry-tree
in the yard That's whar T wuz borned, an' many's the
hoss I've shod at the ole forge.-Tommy," addressing the
little boy who was passing the door of the room, "run
to the spring-house branch an' fotch some mint, an' then
a gouird o' watah. We'll celebrate with a toddy, I reck-
on, suh," he said to Dudley, as he went to the cupboard
for a glass, sugar, and a demijohn of whiskey. "Tell me,
is ole Jeems Little still livin' He usetah keep the red
tavern in the middle tiv the town. An' say. whut's be-
come o' Si Johnson an' Mack Truman We wuz boys
together, an' many's the game we've- Good Lawd !"
he broke off joyfully as he mixed the toddy, "I hain't




been so happy sence the day I wuz converted an' chased
the devil outen the persimmon-tree!"
   Presently the family and their guest were seated at
the supper table bedecked in all the splendor of the
"boughten cloth" and "blue chaney" dishes, and loaded
with corn dodgers, roasted potatoes, bacon, hominy, pick-
led cabbage leaves and honey. Just as the others were
taking their places, Henry Rogers entered, and, after
bashfully greeting the stranger, took his place at the
table. He was a tall, raw-boned, sandy-haired lad of
seventeen, with stooping shoulders, slouching figure, big
feet and toilworn hands. His large-featured, freckled
face was kept from commonplaceness by its frank gray
eyes, broad brow, firm chin and refined mouth.
   "Try an' mek out yer suppah, suh," Mrs. Rogers
urged as she handed Dudley a cup of steaming coffee.
"I'm feared thar ain't much fittin' to eat. Ef we'd
knowed in time, we might