A VANISHING ROMANCE 215 
would take you to see his corn-mill. You are aston- 
ished to find how near the still is to the house, until 
you reflect how far away the house itself is. The 
object of your quest is perhaps so hidden in the ra- 
vine that you do not suspect its presence until you 
are standing directly over it, and then would not 
know but for a faint line of smoke coming up through 
the tree-tops. The path to it is very obscure: you 
might have thought it a rabbit-path; and yet the 
still has been here undisturbed for ten years. To 
maintain a still without a path is part of the business. 
Following the steep trail to the bottom of the ravine, 
you soon find yourself at the still, which consists 
of a low roof covering a little furnace made of stones. 
In one end of the furnace is cemented the copper 
retort, a picturesque object suggesting wizards and 
alchemists. The pipe connects the retort with the 
"worm" that lies coiled in a keg of running water, 
and from which through a tube is escaping in a 
slender stream the precious liquor that resembles 
water in looks but not in taste. A vat or two of 
"beer," or fermenting meal, giving forth a sour, 
yeasty smell, a few jugs and kegs waiting to be 
filled — such is the moonshiner's still. The fire is 
made of rails or poles, one end burning in the fur- 
nace. To feed the fire, it is only necessary to push 
up the fuel as the ends bum off. It is better not to 
chop wood in the neighborhood of a still, lest chips 
betray the workman. 
A visit to the moonshine still, no matter how 
often one may go, never ceases to be exciting. It 
