e along this road
within his ricollection. So there you are; don't know what to believe
and what not to believe."

Just here the road made a steep, upward curve, and we looked down on
the clear, green ripples of a river that wound between high rocky
cliffs on one hand, and on the other vast fields of corn growing
lustily in the deep, rich soil.

"Why should such a pretty little river be called the Barren River?" I
asked. "There isn't anything barren about the river or the country
around it."

Aunt Jane's eyes sparkled. She was capable of answering the question,
for it touched a page of ancient history that was to her a twice-told
tale. "You see all these trees, child?" she said impressively, waving
her hand in the direction of the luxuriant masses of foliage. "Jest
look at that tulip-tree yonder, eighty feet high, I reckon, and the
flowers standin' up all over it like the gold candlesticks the Bible
tells about. You wouldn't think all these trees could grow up since
the first settlers come through here. But I've heard father tell about
it many a time. He said the Indians used to set fire to the woods and
the fields, and when the first settlers come through here, they called
this the Barrens on account o' there bein' no trees, and they passed
by all this good land and went further up on Gasper River, where there
was springs comin' out o' the hills and plenty of trees. You see,
there's two things a settler has to have: wood and water; and that's
why the country up around Gasper was settled before this was, and this
got the name of the Barrens, when there ain't a richer lot o' ground
anywhere.

"And speakin' of names, honey, did I ever tell you how Kittle Creek
got its name?

"Well, now, folks has been laughin' about that story for the last
seventy-five years, and I reckon they'll keep on laughin' as long as
there's a old man or a old woman like me livin' to tell it;" and Aunt
Jane began laughing in advance of the story.

"The right name o' Kittle Creek is Clear Fork," she said, "but it's
been Kittle Creek ever since old man Sam Stapleton give it that name.
And this was the way of it. Old man Sam lived on the fur side o' the
creek, and he was in the habit o' comin' to town every once in a while
to lay in his groceries and such things, and every time he'd come to
town he'd git his jug filled, of course, and drink all along the way
home; but by the time he'd git to Clear Fork he wouldn't know where he
was, or who he