he dooryard; knitters in the sun and
grandams by the hearth; tellers and treasurers all of tales and legends
couched in racy old Elizabethan English; I dedicate this--their book and
mine.

FOREWORD

I have been so frequently asked how I, a woman, came by my intimate
acquaintance with life in the more remote districts of the southern
Appalachians, particularly in the matter of illicit distilling, that I
think it not amiss to here set down a few words as to my sources of
knowledge.

I have always lived in a small city in the heart of the Cumberlands, and
a portion of each year was spent in the mountains themselves. The speech
of Judith and her friends and kin has been familiar to me from childhood;
their point of view, their customs and possessions as well known to me as
my own. Then when I began to write, I was one summer at Roan Mountain, on
the North Carolina-Tennessee line, probably less than two hundred miles
from Chattanooga by the railway, and Gen. John T. Wilder, who had
campaigned all through the fastnesses of that inaccessible region,
suggested to me that I buy a mountain-bred saddle horse, and ride such a
route as he would give me, bringing up, after about a thousand miles of
it, at my home. To follow the itinerary that the old soldier marked out
on the map for me was to leave railroads and modern civilisation as we
know it, penetrate the wild heart of the region, and, depending on the
wayside dwellers for hospitality and lodging from night to night, be
forcibly thrust into an intimate comprehension of a phase of American
life which is perhaps the most primitive our country affords.

I was more than eight weeks making this trip, carrying with me all
necessary baggage on my capacious, cowgirl saddle with its long and
numerous buckskin tie-strings. At first I shrank very much from riding up
to a cabin--a young woman, alone, with garments and outfit that must
challenge the attention and curiosity of these people--in the dusk of
evening or in a heavy rain-storm, and asking in set terms for lodging.
But it took only a few days for me to find that here I was never to be
stared at, wondered at, nor questioned; and that, proffering my request
under such conditions, I was met by instant hospitality, and a grave,
uninquiring courtesy unsurpassed and not always equalled in the best
society, and I seemed to evoke a swift tenderness that was almost
compassion.

During this journey I became acquainted with some fea