214 THE CAROLINA MOUNTAINS 
those who handled it turned the olfactory equiva- 
lent of a deaf ear to this peculiarity, and having re- 
ceived it as vinegar, unquestioningly passed it on 
as such. It went to other stations, where it was re- 
ceived by those in waiting, and by them distributed 
to such as needed this sort of vinegar to their salad. 
Sometimes it was "molasses" jugs that had this 
peculiar smell, which was no odor of sanctity, nor 
yet of honest sorghum. 
To visit a moonshine still was the natural desire 
of all good people, and this could easily be done after 
the confidence of the owner had been gained, for he 
then trusted you completely. It is psychologically 
an interesting experience. The forest seems full of 
eyes as you follow your guide through the lonely 
paths. You have a feeling that somebody is looking 
at you and reading the truth in your guilty heart. 
For the moment you, too, are an outlaw, and the 
mingled feelings that assail you are not wholly disa- 
greeable. One's feelings undergo a curious change, 
however, upon finding the still, not in a cave on a 
wild mountain-side, nor in some all but inaccessible 
glen, but in a little ravine near the moonshiner's 
home, where live his wife and little children, those 
beautiful little children so common in this country. 
One notices the delicate framework of both parents, 
the small hands and feet characteristic of the people 
of the South, the well-formed features, the unful- 
filled promise of a nature designed for a life of refine- 
ment. 
The man leads you to his still as naturally as he 
