like to learn the plain truth about
it, without bias one way or the other. I have no curiosity about
personal affairs, and don't want to learn incriminating details; but I
would like to know how the business is conducted, and especially how it
is regarded from the mountain people's own point of view. I have already
learned that a stranger's life and property are safer here than they
would be on the streets of Chicago or of St. Louis. It will do your
country good to have that known. But I can't say that there is no
moonshining going on here; for a man with a wooden nose could smell it.
Now what is your excuse for defying the law? You don't seem ashamed of
it."

The man's face turned an angry red.

"Mister, we-uns hain't no call to be ashamed of ourselves, nor of ary
thing we do. We're poor; but we don't ax no favors. We stay 'way up hyar
in these coves, and mind our own business. When a stranger comes along,
he's welcome to the best we've got, such as 'tis; but if he imposes on
us, he gits his medicine purty damned quick!"

"And you think the Government tax on whiskey is an imposition."

"Hit is, under some sarcumstances."

My guest stretched his legs, and "jedgmatically" proceeded to enlighten
me.

"Thar's plenty o' men and women grown, in these mountains, who don't
know that the Government is ary thing but a president in a biled shirt
who commands two-three judges and a gang o' revenue officers. They know
thar's a president, because the men folks's voted for him, and the women
folks's seed his pictur. They've heered tell about the judges; and
they've seed the revenuers in flesh and blood. They believe in
supportin' the Government, because hit's the law. Nobody refuses to pay
his taxes, for taxes is fair and squar'. Taxes cost mebbe three cents on
the dollar; and that's all right. But revenue costs a dollar and ten
cents on twenty cents' worth o' liquor; and that's robbin' the people
with a gun to their faces.

"Of course, I ain't so ignorant as all that--I've traveled about the
country, been to Asheville wunst, and to Waynesville a heap o'
times--and I know the theory. Theory says 't revenue is a tax on luxury.
Waal, that's all right--anything in reason. The big fellers that
makes lots of money out o' stillin', and lives in luxury, ought to pay
handsome for it. But who ever seen luxury cavortin' around in these
Smoky Mountains?"

[Illustration: MOONSHINE MILL--SIDE VIEW

The trails that lead hither are bl