The progressive farmer. [volume] (Winston, N.C.) 1886-1904, 1893-03-21
SHORT STORIES ON IMPORTANT
MATTERS.
The Revenue Law.
BY R. PENSTOCK.

CI5y Ou0 udyY duu uOG having any
special business to attend to, l strolled
into the court house where the Federal
court was then in session.
"Guilty or not guilty" the Judge
was asking as I entered.
Guilty." answered the foreman of
the jury, who stood Immediately front
ing the Judges desk.
The prisoner is sentenced to 5 years
hard labor" said the Judge addressing,
the culprit who vas standing unmoved
in the prisoners box.
l carefully scrutiniz9d the man who
was thus doomed to pay the penalty
of violating the law, and found him to
be a middle aged man, with iron-gray
hair, falling gracefully over his broad
heavy shoulders. His whiskers and
mustache were the same iron, gray
color, but what attracted my attention
more especially was his soft brown
eyes which gave a pleasant kindly ex-
preston to his rugged face. Being
drawn towards the man by some I'M
accountable attraction / followed him
from the court room to the jail where,
upon obtaining permission from the
Tailor, I entered the convicted mans
cell.
After mutual introductions, and an
exchange of a few commonplace re-
marks, I urged him to give me the
story of his crime, which he did as
follows:
My name is Bob Clark, Grizzly
Bob, the boys call me, and 1 live up in
Wilkes-up among the Blue Ridge
Mountains. You know, stranger, all
we raise up thar is mostly apples and
corn. Wall, it is SO fur to haul our
produce to market tibet it don't pay us,
and we kin make a sight more on it by
runnin' it into brandy and Whiskey,
ef we kin dodge the revenue law. This
year our roads wuz so bad I couldn't
afford to make 80 many trips to mar
ket to sell my apples and corn, SO I
put up a little still and run out several
barrels of mountain dew, as Weuns
calls it up thar. Meat and bread wuz
! gittin' sca'ce, en- I started with four
barrels fur Statesville whar l 'spected
to blockade it to customers who prom
ised to buy all l would make. Mind
you, stranger, l am a law hiding man,
when the law is christian like, but this
Internal revenue law is the ruination
of us poor mountaineers. 1t is an ex-
tortiOnate tax upon Our only means of
gittin' a comfortable livin'. Up in our
county we consider it unjust, and only
enforced to give a gang of men too
lazy to work, a living at the expense
of hard working men and women
Wall, I left my little wife, Cat the
mention of his wife tears stole down
this brawny mountaineer's cheeks
tears that betrayed a tender and loving
heart within his rugged frame,) sittin'
on the porch nursing our little girl. x
Baby Dora is just three-years-old,
stranger, and is the idol of our hearts.
When 1 popped the whip and drove
off down the mountain road, I hollered
to baby Dora l would be back in three
or four days, and bring her some
candy. That Wuz two weeks ago, and
l am still here. Meat and -four wuz
mighty nigh out when I left, stranger,
and God knows what wife and baby
are livin' on now. | wUz betrayed by
q nabor Nv mine, a worthless trifing
fellow who is a secret revenue spy.
Nv +oopo op6 wbicEou woc toHoD NV
the officer and I wuz put in jail. I Wuz
tried, and to day you heard the SEN
tence. This is all, stranger, only l
wish I could hear from wife and baby.
Oh, my wife, and baby Doral What
will become Of you7 What will be-
come of you7
Stranger, I'm a law hiding man,
and try to do whut's right. l am
proud of my country, but when I think
of whut my dear ones are suffering up
in our mountain home, I can curse the
government which places me where I
am now"
Getting up to leave 1 shook this
honest old mans hand warmly. Good
bye, stranger" he said, and I heard
the bars slam shut and the bolts slip
into their places,
He was doomed to five years hard
labor, and for what2
The question Of the Judge, Guilty
or not guilty" arose in my mind, and
my heart answered, "not guilty."