and which was ladden with good buttermilk biscuits, large dishes of 
real cow butter and three platters full of pork sausage. All this cer¬ 
tainly looked good to me after my all night walk, and smelled even 
better to me than the flowers the girls would pin on themselves when 
going to church. 
Our plates were very liberally heaped by the elderly man. who, 
I suppose, w T as the ‘‘dad” of the bunch, which was twelve in number. 
In those days it was not uncommon to see from six to fifteen in a 
family, but not so now days. 
When breakfast was over I asked for my bill and the man’s reply 
was, “I never charged a man for a meal in my life and it is too late 
to start charging now.” 
This was common all over the south, night or day, when someone 
hollored “Hello” the answer would always be “Come in,” whether 
you were horseback, team or afoot you would always be taken in and 
cared for—but things are different now. 
I bade my friends good-by and proceeded down the road. Early 
in the morning it commenced to rain and kept it up all day and 
my cover-lid satchel had begun to get wet and heavy and the mud 
had crawled to my knees on the inside of my breeches legs. I walked 
for miles without seeing a house or a living soul until finally I decided 
to take my clothes out of my bag and ring them out, they were so wet. 
After having done this I know I must have lightened my load at 
least ten or fifteen pounds. My clothes were certainly in a bad 
shape as some had faded on others and they were all wrinkled. 
I did not go much farther until I met a typical old Tennesseen 
riding a small bay horse. This man was so tall that he had to ride 
with short stirrups. I do believe he could have stood flatfooted and 
straddled his horse without jumping or making use of his stirrups. His 
knees were crooked so they were near the top of the horse’s neck. As he 
came closer I could see that he was somewhat dazed with John Barley¬ 
corn. He looked me over and said. “How are you, young man; are you 
traveling?” I informed him that I was and he wanted to know where I 
was going. I told him to Arkansas, and he wanted to know what for. 
I told him to hunt and trap, and he told me I would starve to death 
in that business. My views were different but I didn’t argue the 
point. “Do you ever drink anything?” he asked, and I hastily 
replied, “Yes, when I need it. and if I ever did I do now.” 
My friend turned himself in his saddle to reach for the long 
black bottle in the saddle pocket. As he did so the horse staggered 
under the load and braced his feet farther apart in order to be better 
able to stand under the weight of the heavy Southerner. 
I drank from the dark bottle he handed me, not once but twice, 
and handed it back to my friend, thanking him cordially, for it cer¬ 
tainly was appreciated. He looked at me questionally and then said: 
“Say, youse on you’a first legs, ain’t youse?” I told him I was, 
and he said, “Well, let me give you a piece of advice. When youse 
are offered anything, take it—but leave that damn thanky out.” Then 
he handed the black bottle back and said, “Take another.” T did, 
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