The Monitor. [volume] (Woodstown, N.J.) 1884-1892, 1885-01-23
QUEER PEOPLE IN HI KENTUCKY
MOUNTAINS.

The correspondent Of the Louisville
Courier Journal, who has been investigat-
ing the Kentucky mountain plague, writes
the following about some strange eharac-
tiers he met on his travels
There are some queer characters among
these moantaineers, and some who will
bear study. | met one old fellow up near
the head Of Clover Fork, who is the pos
SCISSOR of about $500 acres Of barren noun
tain land that will yet drive him stark mad.
He is, to a certain extent, a crank, and the
subject on which his brain is turned is
silver. He believes that he has found the
legendary and purely mythical Swift's
silver mine, and that lie is the owner of
land that fairly teens with richness. He
made me carry off several specimens for
analysis, and has promised me a big inter-
est in his mine if it should prove worth
opening. He is an honest old fellow, and
his word is as good as his bond, but lie is
clean daft on the silver mine question. and
his neigfbors say grows erazier every day.
Another queer one whom / met was an
Irish philosopher who presides over the des-
TIMES of a lumber camp. His name is
Johnny and he has brought from the
outside world into this region a wealth Of
native humor combined with some OF the
most quantity constructed and semi-wise
sayings | ever heard.
Still another was a daredevil logman |
met n night. Sturdy, stalwart and dash
ing, with capacity for '.m~oonshine'' un-
equalled by any of his fellows, he is just
such a free. happy-go-lucky daredevil as
the mountain maids adore, and it is a stand
ing and uncontroyerted saying that he has
a sweetheart at every crossroads, and that
scores of these susceptible creatures are
ready to fall down and worship whenever
their idol appears. He has a big heart.
and needs no introduction to show you that
he is a man of noble, generous traits, even
if his rough life has made him the scape-
grace that he is.
Speaking of log men, reminds me of a
lumber camp | visited one Sunday on my
up trip, and again one day coming back.
1t stood in a hollow, a rude, tumble-down
frame shanty, open on all sides and in the
roof with a floor so full of holes that it
was a veritable ~death-trap to the unwary.
About the shanty were strewn wagons
and the implements used in getting out the
logs, while tethered around were half a
dozen or more yoke of oxen chewing their
cuds as eontentedly as if every day was one
of rest. We struck the place after the
dinner hour. A note had been sent ahead
for the cook to have US an excellent dinner
of turkey, fish, beef, biscuit, ETC., but it
miscarried, and when we arrived we had to
wait about two hours. and then dine on
chicken and hot bread. w were in rather
dirty quarters, but we We're hungry and
justice to the repast. These log men lead
a hard but happy life, and seem to be as
light-hearted as if they were m~illionaires
and lived at ease in palaces, instead of poor
devils whose days are spent in the toughest
kind of work and their nights in sleeping
in rough hunks in mighty tough quarters.
There is much to interesGpne in the log
ging business, from the cutting of the
trees until they arrive at the mill, probably
a hundred miles away. 1t gives employ
ment to hundreds of men and animals, and
annually brings thousands of dollars to
the hills.