'LIGHT AND COME IN 187 
and sordid ideals, and if the reality falls short of the 
poet's fancy, there yet clings a touch of romance 
about the home-made chairs, baskets, and pottery of 
the Southern mountains. When can one forget the 
long, sweet days of wandering about the country in 
search of the "jug-makers"! — "jugs" being the 
generic title of every form of home-made pottery. 
It was while in Traumfest that one was fired with 
ambition to discover the makers of the rude but pic- 
turesque jugs in such general use there. The people 
tell you they are made in Jugtown, down in South 
Carolina, but when you go out to find Jugtown, there 
is no such place. At Gowansville, below the moun- 
tains and some ten miles from Traumfest, one makes 
a serious effort to find — not Jugtown, that quest 
has long since been abandoned, but the nearest jug- 
maker. The people do not seem to know, but finally 
a black girl whom we stop on the road tells us that 
Rich Williams, "A cullud man who lives three quar- 
ters away, yon side the Tiger River," makes them. 
On we go, and in the end find Rich — this side the 
Tiger. Yes, he makes jugs, and he is at it. You get 
out of him that a great many people in that region 
make jugs, and you conclude that "Jugtown" is a 
jocular expression for the whole region of pottery 
clay, but having found Rich Williams, you bear no 
resentment. 
He is an old-time negro, as black as ebony, evi- 
dently very proud of your visit, and you are soon 
watching the bony, black hands knead the clay and 
pat it into a loaf, then on the wheel coax it into 
