Public ledger. [volume] (Memphis, Tenn.) 1865-1893, 1879-12-30
THE SOUTHERN WILDERNESS.
Experience Of New York Correspondent
AIong the Lac Of the Cincinnati
Southern Railroad.


RoBBN's Tunnel, SCoTT COUNTY,
Tenn, Dec. 13, I879.-After getting
over the Cumberland we were fairly
in the Wilderness. All settlements
ceased, save, at long intervals, the
cabin of a mountaineer in some creek
bottom, across which we sped on a
dizzy t%restle. At noon we reached
the limit of the engines run. The
place was called Pine Knob. There
were four or five tents in the woods,
inhabited by a gang of workmen with
their boss, and in one Of the tents
three slatternly women prepared us a
dinner of bread, ham and potatoes,
and a weak brown wash called coffee
by courtesy. Another engine came up
from the South, and boarding it we
made good progress for two hours
along a high ridge-the first bit
of tolerably level road since leav-
ing the blue grass region of
Kentucky-as far as Chitwood.
Up to this point the road follows the
line surveyed by General Burnside's
engineers during the war for a militia
ny railroad from Somerset to Knox
vile. At Chitwood the engine left
us to go back and unload ballast cars.
There was a log house in sight with
out windows, whose open door looked
hospitable, but a smaller structure
close at hand, whichproved to be both
store and dwelling, offered a nearer
refuge. The store occupied the main
building. a structure about fifteen
feet by twenty, and the merchants
family lived in a single lean-tO room
adjoining. The stock of goods, though
limited in size, was of infinite variety
and comprised everything required by
the simple habits of the mountaineers.
A written sign on the rough and hard
counter announced in these words the
principle upon which the business was
conducted: Terms cash to both saint
and sinner, now and forever" The
merchant had been bothered by peo-
pie c~ongregating in his door to get a
look at passing locomotives sight
the majority of them never saw
until about two or three weeks ago
and he had posted up a plaeard on the
door reading: Look, look Stand in
the door in double file. That's the
locomotives egreat big thing on
wheels. There she goes You have
looked the engineer out of couutc-
nance and away he goes with his little
brass wagon" This humorous store
keeper said that whisky was the curse
ofthe neighbOring country, "a mum
Der of them that makes it have been
penitentiaried lately, and I'm glad of
it. If the people would stop drinking
whisky and 60 to work something
might be made o fthis country" Halt
a dozen mountaineers c|ongregated in
the store. One came to trade a few
eggs for a little coffee, the others had
no errand but to satisfy their curiosity
by staring at the strangers. They
we're ss%slovenly, thin -visaged fellows,
clad in coarse, homespun jeans of blue
or b%utternut color, and the expression
of their faces was one Of inoffensive
stupidity. They seemed to have moth
ing to do and nothing to talk about.
Towards night the engine returned
and we made a successful run OF
twelve miles. Then there was a stop
in the darkness, to examine a bridge
over a roaring stream, which was
thought to be unsafe. Torches and
lanterns soon glimmered down the
ravine and over the t%restle. When
they came back the verdict of the
engineers was that it would be dan
gerous to venture on the bridge with
the locomotive. A hand-car was un-
loaded from a platform car, and half
an hours work at the levers brought
the party to New River camp, thor
oughly chilled with the December
night air. The only accommodations
to be found were in a rude shanty
boarding house where the bridge
hands stayed. Fifteen of them sat
around a little stove on benches tell
ing stories by the light Of a suffering
tallow candle. All fifteen slept in the
other room and there were two spare
beds. into which my companion and
[ crawled without the ceremony of
undressing, after a supper of pork and
potatoes eaten in a freless room.
Beds, did | say? They were nothing
but boxes on legs with a dreadfully
thin straw tick, in each, and a few old
dirty quilts for bedding. A broken
window and the snoring of the work
men aggravated the situation. In the
morning the daylight revealed a
deep, narrow valley, a rushing river,
a high bridge, a few shanties and tents,
and the steep encircling mountains.
The chief engineer, who was my main
reliance for getting over the road, had
left me in the lurch and gone off on
the only engine on the section. How
to get on was the question. Were
there any wagon roads? Yes, terribly
rough ones, but the fords were impas-
sable. There was not a bridge within
fifty miles, save those on the railroad.
Hemmed in by the floods and broken
roads, | studied the map and cast
about for means of'escape. A lumber
wagon was found in the settlement.
Could we not cross the mountains
eastward and strike a branch railway
running to Knoxville No; because
Buffalo Creek ran across the road, and
would toss US on Its horns. Could we
not walk the New river t~restle, get a
wagon on the other side, and go south
west to Rookwood2 No; because
Black Wolf creek would devour us.
To go on seemed impossible; to stay ia
the wretched shanty uncomfortable. In
this dilemma we heard of a man
named Robbins, living four miles
away, who had a reputation for hospi-
tality. In company with my New
York friend. who was going to the
Cumberland Plateau to look for lands,